“My toenail’s probably going to fall off,” my mother predicted as she shortened the nail with a pair of clippers. The damage had been done in the course of a four-mile hike in Montana’s Glacier National Park - one with minimal elevation gain. The toe-stubbing downhill stretch had not seemed long enough to cause such an injury, but I suppose some toes stub more easily than others. I hated to think what today’s twelve-mile hike was going to do to her.
The hike I had chosen for my visiting family was the Highline/Loop Trail - a popular route that clung two-thirds of the way up a 6,000-foot slope and kept a level altitude before suddenly taking a four-mile plunge towards the valley floor. As one hiked from south to north, the unbroken views of glacier-scoured valleys and snow-speckled summits would constantly tap at one’s left shoulder, requesting a moment for well-deserved appreciation.
It was easy to become absorbed in the study of these primeval expanses, and I expected we were in far more danger of negligently falling off the steep edge of the path than of getting mauled by a grizzly bear, especially considering of the popularity of the trail. We were just three out of a long chain of pilgrims crossing the high country, except that most other travelers were far noisier. They chattered and shook bells as they walked so that they wouldn’t come across a bear unawares and startle it. With all this activity, I figured that any creature would need to be both deaf and blind to be surprised by our passage.
Far too often we had to surrender the trail to let other hikers move ahead or pass us by. One huge group consisted of a wedding party happily journeying to an unusual chapel: the Swiftcurrent Lookout Tower, which was nine miles distant, perched high above even the Highline Trail. If they brought bridal gowns or tuxedos, they were all packed away for the journey. The party was sensibly attired… I just hoped they were sensibly prepared for the 2,000-foot climb that awaited them. Still, what an undeniably beautiful place to say one’s vows.
Our own journey was less focused and more relaxed, full of photographic digressions - attempts to digitally capture a world of yellow avalanche lilies and deep, blue skies. We passed ten feet beneath a drowsy mountain goat and watched as it slowly roused itself from beneath a spruce tree and shambled down to the trail right in front of us. It was the biggest male I could remember ever seeing, with thin, curving, sharp horns and a trim little beard growing beneath his chin. Muscles rippled beneath a thin layer of snowy, white fur, although his hips seemed to sway rather effeminately as he presented his rear to us and sashayed down the path.
My mother, who had asked a million anxious questions about what to do during a grizzly bear encounter, impulsively followed just a few steps behind the animal, taking video footage with her camera. I feared that the goat would finally tire of her presence, planting his front legs and using his hindquarters to kick her off the side of the mountain. But the creature paid her no mind. He ambled along at his own speed until he spied another comfortable bed of grasses above the trail and left to have a second nap.
Seven miles in, I thought my mother and brother might desire an extended rest as well. Our route had intersected the Grinnell Glacier Overlook trail, and I suggested they continue ahead to a backcountry chalet while I took this detour on my own. I had gambled that sore feet would convince them to relax at the chalet until I could catch up. Unfortunately, they both wanted to be included on this side excursion. Although I doubted how well they would do with the steep inclines, breathing thin air, I had to be impressed by their stubbornness.
Halfway through our labored ascent to the Overlook, I looked at my watch and knew I had made a big mistake. All our detours, including this one, had eaten away at the afternoon hours. Now we would be hard-pressed to escape the high country and catch the last park shuttle to the St. Mary Visitor Center, where our vehicle had been parked. Very likely we would find ourselves having to thumb a ride home tonight.
