Conclusion: Down and Back Again

This is the final part in a 3 part series about my day in Glacier National Park. When the story last left off, I was about to make the first descent from Logan Pass. I'd been excited for such a long downhill, but as it turned out, things didn't quite go as expected...


The first problem was the wind – whipping around strongly at the top. With no room to be pushed around, it presented a serious challenge. The biggest issue, however, was the combination of drainage grates, asphalt patches, the occasional rock and gravel patches, and the dreaded “tar lines of death,” all camouflaged by the trees’ 4pm shadows. It’s difficult enough navigating through uneven, slippery, and bumpy surfaces around sharp blind corners with distracted and unpredictable drivers. Not being about to distinguish these hazards from shadows adds to the danger and stress exponentially. But after ducking behind a line of slower cars, we didn’t have to worry about anyone passing us and could focus more on the road and less on the traffic. We rode this way most of the way down, separating briefly when I sped up near the bottom.

There, we were surprised to find Aubrey and Kathryn. Apparently, they’d decided not to make the climb back, and Ben was already being shuttled (by Kathryn’s parents, I’m pretty sure – they were waiting for them to come back down). Elana and I were absolutely shocked, and it seemed Twyman was equally as shocked. I’d love to know what the internal debate was. Kathryn said Ben was going to “kill her;” Aubrey said they didn’t think Elana and I were going to do it (only because it was so late – we got to the bottom at around 5-ish). At any rate, Kathryn seemed crushed, and I, on some level, took offense… Her parents came, they loaded in (with “sunken faces,” her dad told me later), and ended up passing us in a Subaru as we ascended the west side of the pass on our bikes.

The 2nd ascent, to a lesser extent the first, and even the climb before the park were very personal experiences. I remember thanking God for the ease at which I climbed the first mountain of the day. I remembered the other riders too, praying for their safety. But when I was not talking with Him, it was just me, my bike, and the mountains. Describing the experience to people, I’ve said I felt very in tune with my body, my bike, and the road underneath me. I was aware of each pedal stroke and the energy I was putting into it. Though I’m sure my cadence varied, my rhythm (i.e.: my output relative to how strong I felt) was constant. I kept the chain on the middle ring and the 2nd biggest ring in back, and turned my legs, and turned, and turned. There was no tailwind, but I felt as if I were being pulled up the mountain.

A few miles from the top, contrastingly, my energy supply (finally) began to drop off. This climb was much steeper (about 1-2%) and higher (about 4000’ compared to… maybe 2800’?) and the 3-4 granola bars I’d eaten at the Visitors’ Center had given me everything they could. The calorie surplus, I was sure, was gone, but I wasn’t really bothered. I pulled off on a turn-out with a spectacular view, sat on a rock, and ate some trail mix, which did the truck. I stayed maybe 15 minutes and left again.

Now about 1½-2 miles from the summit, I pass a family of tourists – perhaps 7 of them, pulled over and standing at a lookout point. A few of them notice me. They kind of just stare for a moment. I make eye contact with the mother. She began clapping. Soon 6 pairs of hands join hers, and I can almost feel the sound waves enter my legs and strengthen them. I flash them a huge smile – I hope they, especially the mother, know how touched I was. With the sun setting behind a peak behind me, I continue to climb.

I stop once more at a pull-off and walkway about ½ mile from the top and observe some mountain goats and a gorgeous view. Though the goats are wild, I can’t help but think they’re very much domesticated – gawked and shouted at by countless visitors – fed in the streets by others. For that, I apologize to them on behalf of the human species, and wonder aloud to Elana, who caught up at that pullover, how it was exactly humans made it to the top.





Speaking of which, we had. And after we’d been resting a few minutes, so did Twyman’s parents, who brought us news from the bottom (the ride to the camp took about an hour from there) and fruit! I ate a nectarine and some grapes, and Elana borrowed a jacket. Their enthusiasm for what we’d dome reenergized us, and we were ready for the final 18 miles. A few minutes after they left, so did we.

This downhill was infinitely better than the first, and I enjoyed every second of it. At the bottom, the moon was just coming up over the mountains, and though I didn’t feel like stopping (I’d already waited for Elana), I took some pictures from my bike. We got into the campground at 8:55, 12 hours and 40 minutes after starting. And actually, I felt pretty good.

And then began the worst night of my life. Elana and I (and Brendan) decided to drive into town to get dinner. First, though, we had to get groceries for the group. But we finished just before 10, the time that all food establishments in the area close. We walked into one café at about 9:58, but were not acknowledged until after 10, at which time the waitress informed us the kitchen would take no more orders. It was one of those things when you are on the edge and it pushed you off – my eyes literally welled up with tears. We weren’t going to get dinner. After biking 127 miles.

After trying about 3 more places, I ended up getting a slice of pizza off a turnstile at a supersketch bar (/brothel, I’m sure) called Charlie’s, 8 miles away in Babb.

Then, on the way back, we got lost. I ended up getting into the tent at 12:05, cold, frustrated, hungry, but mostly worried about the next day. And yet, I wasn’t going to let anything ruin the day I conquered the Rocky Mountains.