Part Five

     May 21 - 23                   Glacier National Park, MT                         (Go to Pt 1)
​
There was a sense of security being in the campground, just having other people around, and I slept like the dead that night.  Next morning we were still dozing in our bags when another Park Ranger stopped by wanting to chat with us about our route through the park. Still in his sleeping bag, Craig pulled a couple of maps from the back of the tent, unfolded them on his lap, and pointed out where we’d been.  After the Ranger left we went back to sleep until almost noon with the premature sentiment that Glacier National Park was over when it really wasn’t.

It was after 1:00 pm when we finally dragged out of the campground and got back onto the trail, taking the south-shore route past Two Medicine Lake into the Paradise Creek Valley.  It was actually a spectacular afternoon and once we stepped back in the groove, the hiking was downright pleasant.  The sun was warm and the views of rugged, mountain ridges against the azure skyline were pretty stunning.  And then there was the crystalline mountain air, so clean and crisp it made you want to drink it in and savor the forest, river, rock and mountain smells. It was all very energizing. ​

Click on the map for a larger image

After a few miles, we left Paradise Creek and climbed up into the Cobalt Lake basin where snow conditions were firm and we traveled without needing the ‘Paws’.  As we continued into the upper basin, the surrounding peaks’ magnitude became enlarged, soaring up on three sides to create a cirque of steep, fierce terrain that towered above us in graphic relief. I could sense the presence of those towers glowering down on us as we worked our way toward the lake; like we were trespassing through the valley without permission. ​

The day was late when we reached our campsite at Cobalt Lake and the sun had long since dropped below the ridgeline.  Dusk was gathering in the east and temperatures were quickly dropping from chilly to cold by the time the tent was ready to occupy.  We cooked dinner just outside the tent door while lounging in our bags and I went to sleep that night confident we would have another banner morning.

Well, apparently two days in a row of good weather was a bit much to hope for because in the morning it was cold with thick, low-lying clouds churning slowly across the mountaintops.  The deafening quiet in the cirque made the sound of clanking cook pots at breakfast startlingly intrusive into the hushed surroundings and the cold, menacing skies sparked little enthusiasm for climbing the pass.  On this morning we were but infantry with orders to march, so like dutiful soldiers we packed our kits and headed around the lake to the base of Chief Lodgepole Peak.

Everything on the northeast aspect of the cirque was under a wind hammered snowfield but from the map we could see where the trail ambled north up gentle terrain to attain the ridgeline before doubling back south along the ridge.  We opted to gain the ridge on a more direct line from Cobalt Lake and strapped on crampons for the climb. We didn’t rope up because the ground was easy to start but near the top I was thinking we should probably be belaying each other as we were now front pointing very steep, frozen snow toward a runnel of water ice that led into a dark gully.

​We reached the gully and found it fraught with loose rock. We de-cramponed, then thrashed our way up the scrambled chute while trying not to kill each other by dislodging the precariously scattered debris that lie everywhere.  We climbed the last 200 feet on fairly good 4th-class rock, topping out on the ridge to enormous views of Mount Rockwell, Grizzly Mountain, Eagle Ribs Mountain, Casper Peak and the Park Creek Valley Basin. The horizon below the clouds was lost in the distance.

​You know, some moments are just too difficult to put into words and standing on that ridge with all that profound mountain architecture laid out in front of me is one of those times.  There was just so much more out there than ‘scenery’; the raw power to create such fantastically massive configurations to such microscopic precision was beyond my brain’s capacity to fathom. I was in awe.

We were now on the Continental Divide’s crest where we continued along the ridge southeast, over Chief Lodgepole Peak, descending to Two Medicine Pass.  From the pass we dropped into the Park Creek Valley and were delighted to find very little snow on this aspect of the mountain, making the trail easy to find and follow. We descended quickly to the upper Park Creek Patrol Camp (which had not yet been occupied) then began the long, weary hike out Park Creek.

​Rain began to fall late in the afternoon making an already muddy trail even muddier.  Over the eight miles we’d covered since the pass we had seen all kinds of tracks roaming across and along the trail: Moose, Grizzly Bear, Fox, Elk, Black Bear; enough that when an odd print passed by underfoot I hardly noticed, until the second one caught my eye.  Next to my boot was a huge track in the mud that in no way could be mistaken for a bear’s. ​

Heel to toe it measured maybe 16 inches long and had six, short round toes; the print showed no arch and left a perfect cast in the mud. There were probably seven or eight tracks in all with a six to seven foot stride between them. I stood there staring at what I was looking at and my mind completely stalled trying to process what I was seeing. “Now, what the fuck is that?!”  I asked back to Craig in astonishment, pointing down at the track. He, too, was looking down at the mud cast prints. “Well, it’s no bear,” he replied “… that’s got to be a Bigfoot.” I didn’t have a counter to that and there was just no other explanation for it.

We took pictures and peered into the dark, wet forest but saw no signs of movement nor did we hear any cracking or rustling in the underbrush.  Okay, well, Bigfoot print, check. We didn’t linger long because we were deadbeat tired and it was getting late; in fact, it was after 6:30 pm when we finally reached the Coal Creek Fire Trail junction where we made camp. And boy, were my dogs barking!

That evening it was just plain eerie around camp, like you could almost smell something in the air, and we did hear cracking and rustling in the underbrush, which would not have been unusual given all the wildlife in the area, except we had just seen real Bigfoot prints a few hours earlier.  Now there was time to think about it and I started feeling like we were being watched. Then I started to think about all the bear tracks we had seen throughout the day, including Grizzlies, and began to worry about a bear raid. Here we were, ‘Smorgasbord Central’ for a valley of hungry bears, (not to mention the lurking Bigfoot) and especially now that we’d cooked food. 

Between the Bigfoot and the bears I was definitely starting to tweak, hearing or seeing the Boogie Man out in the dark forest, just beyond camp, every time I turned around. For whatever reason, the tent seemed a safer place to be than sitting outside, so we threw everything but the sleeping bags in our packs and strung them up high from a limb with the climbing rope.  Then, figuring Bigfoot and bears must not be able to tree climb, I picked out a tree, close to the tent, in the event I might have to climb myself to safety during the night.  And with that, we crawled into the tent and zippered shut the door to our little bubble of pretend security.  

There was all kind of rumpus going on in the woods throughout the night that kept me restless but nothing that came in and bothered our camp. The next morning was cloudy but not threatening. This was our last day in Glacier National Park but the end wasn’t really all that close. From our camp, the Coal Creek Fire Trail, which was an old and poorly maintained trail, we climbed south and east up 2,000 feet of elevation gain over 2.5 miles to the south shoulder of Soldier Mountain and the whole thing turned out to be choked with downed timber and schmaltzy snowdrifts.  

We battled our way through it, crossed a shallow, wooded pass and descended through more deadfall and snowdrifts to Ole Creek where we stopped for lunch.  Then, as if to pay one more due, we had to de-boot at Ole Creek and ford the swift and icy, knee-deep river while probing blindly with our numb feet across ridiculously slick and sharp rocks.  The last mile and a half were up a gentle draw on a game trail that led us out onto State Hwy #2, at McCartysville Flats, around 3:30 in the afternoon.

​When Brian had left us in Waterton Park 15 days earlier, the plan had been for him to meet up with us right where we were standing now, on this very day, by 5:00 pm. Brian would have been in touch with the Park Superintendent while we were out so he should have had an idea about where we were. I was hoping he’d be parked roadside, waiting for us when we showed up but when that turned out to be wishful thinking I hoped he’d at least show up early. But as the day dragged on toward supper time I started thinking maybe he wasn’t going to show up at all.  Around 6:00 pm we finally decided he was a no-show and started hitch-hiking to Kalispell; but then, true to form, the 12th car to come over the rise was Brian’s red jeep, careening down the road.

---

Go to Part 6

---

The CDTC was founded in 2012 by volunteers and recreationists hoping to provide a unified voice for the CDT. Working hand-in-hand with the U.S. Forest Service and other federal land management agencies, the CDTC is a non-profit partner supporting stewardship of the CDT. The mission of the CDTC is to complete, promote and protect the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a world-class national resource. For more information, please visit continentaldividetrail.org.

---