Departing Yaak, we drove further into Montana, and up to Glacier National Park. My parents still talk about the hike they took here thirty years ago, so I figured it was a must see. We got our backcountry permits, having to sit through an instructional video detailing exactly how to avoid seeing, and then be mauled by, or fight back against a bear. The message wasn’t entirely clear. Around to the other side of the park, where our assigned campsite was, and five miles in, we didn’t see any bears. The scenery, though, was spectacular.
No Name Lake
The lake (which apparently has no name), sits at the base of a tremendous sheer cliff, the subject of much later discussion as to its climbability. The consensus was no, although our 25 feet of food-hanging line might be good enough to attack an imagined Nazi bunker on the other side of the lake. Those Germans are everywhere. As the stars appeared one by one, and the temperature dropped precipitously, we postponed our assault for the morning.
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