You know it’s cold when you can see your breath. Today was the first time we started the car for heating in the morning. Clouds were hanging low in the mountains, but it didn’t rain. We started the day relaxed with a diverse breakfast.

It seems like every good campground has some friendly animals. This one had a dog and cats. One of the latter was way faster than I was with the camera.

Our swimming pants and towels didn’t dry at all over night, so I had to further improve our camper van with the camping clothesline I packed.

Combined with the air conditioning outlets in the ceiling, the resulting system was surprisingly functional.
Our first stop was the St. Mary entrance to Glacier National Park with the adjacent visitor center. They had an interesting exhibition on the native tribes of the area and their traditions, and different views on land ownership.

The Same Ranger we met yesterday close to Swiftcurrent Pass was on desk duty in St. Mary today and answered all of our questions. The scenic Going-to-the-Sun road was closed yesterday, but they got the wildfires under control. Part of the road was drive-through only, so no stopping or hiking. We decided to drive to Logan Pass where the High Line Trail and Hidden Lake Trail started. The weather didn’t look promising, but our destination was above the clouds and the webcams in the visitor center showed good conditions.

At Logan Pass the weather was clear and sunny. We spontaneously decided to go for the Hidden Lake Trail first and do the other one if there’s time left.

The first part of the trail was made of wooden planks and quite busy with people.

It ends with a viewpoint overlooking the Hidden Lake.

From there, most people seemed to turn around and go back, probably because the wooden planks end and a real trail continues down to the lake.

Yes, I walked into the wrong direction. I was just following orders – for the sake of the picture.

Down at the shore of Hidden Lake, we could enjoy the view of the valley from below.

Forward from this point, the trail continues without any signs and we were the only ones there. OpenStreetMaps lead our way. On the left there’s a flat pond with lots of tiny life in it.

There was perfect calm with almost no background noises, especially no artificial ones.



After a little break we returned the same way back. It’s a bit weird to descent to a valley from a height, having the climb at the end. Usually it’s up on the mountain and back down.

As always, evening sun provides the best light. Hidden Lake in its whole.

We could see some smoke of the remaining wildfires ahead.

Back on the wooden path, close to Logan Pass where we started, the clouds had returned and it got cold quickly.

Around four and a half hours and 12 km later, we finished the hike.
We decided to skip the High Line Trail as there was no sight, and it was already late in the afternoon.

Instead we boarded our mobile home, did a quick planning session, and decided to continue driving along the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

Epic views incoming.



The second image shows the remains of a wildfire and the newly growing fauna slowly approaching the original height of the forest. Along the way, some goats caused a mild traffic jam.

The scenery along this road calls for frequent photo pull-outs.

Having left the mountains behind us, we paid Lake McDonald a quick visit.

In Apgar, at the South Western corner of Glacier National Park, we were back in the reach of our mobile data providers and made a plan for the rest of the day. We set course to a camp site outside the park to shorten the long ride towards Olympic National Park. On our way there, we had a Mexican dinner.

We stayed at Greenwood Village Campgrounds, were an old Lady checked us in. Me looking up a picture of our license plate on my phone made her tell me an anecdote of her 6 foot daughter punching a guy into hospital. He had punched her sister for taking a picture of his licence plate. Now he had multiple face fractures – gender equality in the Wild West.
The day ended with a hot shower, and some blog writing.
