July 16
Departure from Elena
Only recently did I have a brilliant idea: the name "Montana" could be translated as "mountain country." It's so obvious, how could I have never realized it before! It's just strange that this Spanish word has penetrated so far north. From the windows of our farmhouse in Helena, large mountains were visible only in the distance, on both sides of a large valley. But as we approached Glacier National Park, we realized the state's name wasn't given without reason.
It was a strange day. We had to leave the cabin by ten in the morning. Denis "left for work" early. I made breakfast, packed my things, and carried them out to the car.
We then moved to the back of a large Costco store. It was deserted, and we could set up a camp chair for Denis, who immediately "went into a work meeting," pulling out his laptop and putting on his headphones. Meanwhile, I walked around the building and went shopping, picking up groceries for the rest of the trip. Then we gassed up and moved to a small park, where Denis continued working while I strolled around the neighborhood.
Gold was once mined in these areas. The surface of the earth has been dug up and ground down. Large piles of stones still lie there, a reminder of bygone times. Now, paths for joggers and cyclists run between them. People walk their dogs where a gold vein once ran. Now there's a golf course where warehouses and barracks once stood. And flax and sunflowers grow in the rubble.
We had lunch in the same park and finally moved on. Once again, our route crossed vast deserted areas with scattered livestock farms. There were no high mountains here yet; these were treeless, sun-baked hills. Big mountains lay ahead.
Arriving at Glacier
We reach Glacier National Park in a few hours. Our accommodation is ten minutes away. Housing prices within the park are several times higher, so it's more economical to stay outside. We also don't have to pay entry fees each time because we have an annual pass to all the national parks.
The exterior of our place is rather modest. It doesn't look like a hotel, with just five separate rooms. I think "rooms" would be a more appropriate term. But inside, everything is organized efficiently, like a studio: one large space for all amenities except the bathroom. One corner is partitioned off for the kitchen and dining area, another for a large bed and nightstands, and a third, near the entrance, has a coat rack and a small sofa. In short, it has everything necessary for a temporary stay. We spent three days there quite comfortably.
Although "lived" isn't quite the right word. When you're there to eat, sleep, and shower, but spend a significant portion of your time in the mountains, it's hardly a full-fledged "life.".
After dinner that evening, we still had a little time to walk around the area, eat our fill of the irga (serviceberry), which had ripened in huge quantities, and go to rest.
July 17
Morning in the mountains
On the morning of July 17th, in the middle of summer in Montana, our hands are freezing from the cold, and we're wearing long pants, sweaters, and jackets. It's a shame I didn't bring a hat; it would have definitely come in handy, and gloves wouldn't have hurt either, because it's around freezing outside again. The mountains are beautiful, but it's so cold here in the mornings!
First we head to Glacier to watch the sunrise at Lake McDonald.
A number of morning landscape enthusiasts have already gathered on the shore near the tourist village. Everyone is dressed warmly, some are warming up with coffee bought right there at the coffee shop. The lake is picturesquely nestled in a narrow valley between the mountains. The bluish pre-dawn twilight is slowly dissipating, and the first rays of sun are appearing over the peaks. It's beautiful! It was worth getting up at six in the morning for.
But this is not difficult for us, because we continue to live on Michigan time.
For those long morning contemplations of the mountain lake, people not only come warmly dressed but also bring blankets and throws. They probably find it comforting to meditate, wrapped in an extra warm layer, but for us, it's getting too cold to watch the sunrise. We want to get moving, to finally warm up. Hurry, hit the trail!
Two trails. McDonald River.
Despite the early hour, we didn't immediately find parking at the trailhead; almost all of it was occupied. The Kedrovaya Trail is quite small, barely accessible even in a wheelchair. Wooden paths and bridges cross a mountain stream on the damp, marshy soil. A miniature canyon has formed here. The stream, squeezed between rocks, churns and foams, creating whirlpools. The clear water glistens with an emerald green sheen. You can gaze at the flowing water for a long time, but then it gets cold again, and you have to move on.
The second trail, "Avalanche," is longer and leads gently upward. It should have been called "People's Trail," because so many people were constantly walking along it. At the end of the trail is a round green lake.
It's beautiful, but we'd already seen similar ones in Grand Teton and weren't particularly surprised. Then there was another trail we tried, but turned back because it wasn't anything special. Perhaps we were simply becoming jaded by the beauty of nature.
There were other beautiful places that our friend and advisor, the artificial intelligence, recommended visiting. We got in the car and drove off in search of picturesque landscapes.
For some time, the road ran alongside the McDonald River. Every turn begged to be painted: green, clear water, small waterfalls, rapids and riffles, forested rock folds, scattered boulders, and pebble banks. Small parking areas along the roadside offer a place to stop and admire the beauty.
A cow elk stood in the shallows, browsing on leaves from a bush. A crowd of people were curiously watching and photographing this wonder. I was watching not so much the animal as the observers. It was very much like a royal diner surrounded by vassals! They were all afraid to make a loud noise or make an unnecessary movement, walking on tiptoe, while the cow elk sipped leisurely, paying no attention to anyone. She was the queen here!
The Rocky Cape Trail“
We decided to return home, as it was approaching two o'clock. After lunch and a short rest, we set off on the Rocky Cape trail, which led us to the other side of Lake McDonald. It had become quite warm, even hot. The air smelled richly of herbs and sun-warmed pine trees. The bushes of serviceberry, wild strawberries, and thickets of blueberries made our journey even more pleasant.
And we had a wonderful dessert after dinner!
On the shore, far from the tourist spots, we suddenly encountered a group from a "pioneer camp" with cold-hardy children of local descent. Although the water temperature was around 15°C (60°F), these children splashed happily in the lake until the camp counselor blew a whistle to call them to shore. Some of them were dissatisfied with the time it was time to leave. Even Denis couldn't swim for more than three minutes, probably because he's not a pioneer from the Montana mountains. And I just watched the whole thing from the shore.
From Kamenisty Mys we saw the lake from a slightly different angle.
And it turned out to be incredibly beautiful, too. Surrounded by mountains, everything looks beautiful, doesn't it? On the way back, we hung out in the blueberry patches some more, stuffed ourselves with berries until we were sick, and decided it was time to go home. At some point, it became clear we'd covered quite a bit today. Denis glanced at his smartwatch and said we'd walked almost forty thousand steps. In my head, like Winnie the Pooh, I composed a marching-style "walker" song, which I immediately played loudly, for the entire forest to lift my spirits.
We have walked forty thousand steps!
And we'll go another forty thousand,
Because we, because we,
Because we are strong
And the two of us!
There were more verses about our heroic deed, but they come easily and are easily forgotten. Besides, Denis doesn't encourage my poetic experiments. He's shy.
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