The Highline Trail, Big Bears, Ouchies, and Goodbye to Glacier

About a week ago, we had wanted to hike The Highline Trail, which is often rated as the #1 hike in Glacier. Unfortunately, we got fogged out, but we kept it on our list, even though the drive to Logan Pass is a relatively easy 30-minute drive from the east side, and a rather challenging 90-minute drive from West Glacier, where we are now. Highline is a shuttle hike, meaning that you start at one point and end at another. As it happens, there is a free shuttle service in Glacier.

We were looking at about twelve miles for this hike, which means it is the biggest dayhike any of us have done, especially when you consider the elevation. It goes about 7½ miles up to the Granite Park Chalet, a sort of hiker's hotel, and then another 4½ miles down The Loop trail to descend the mountain. We were very confident in the children's hiking ability. We knew it would be a challenge, but well worth it.

Highline gets its name from the fact that much of it is on a narrow trail cut into the mountain, 2,000 vertical feet above the valley floor. Most of it is on a trail that is 2-3 feet wide, above a steep slope. But some of it is 18 inches wide, above a sheer cliff. Those spots, at the very beginning, have a chain for you to hang on to. Did I mention it was windy?

Wednesday was our last day in Glacier, and we all determined that we would do the hike. Jerry and Kathy decided in advance that due to the steep decline at the end of the hike, they would turn back at some point while the rest of us continued on. It seems that they are the smart ones. But more on that later.

More than a week ago, we hiked to Iceberg Lake and, even on our 6th visit to Glacier, were blown away by the views. But the views on the Highline Trail blew those views away. It's no wonder that this hike is rated #1. I have left a number of the photos without captions, because I just can't even begin to describe with words what only the eyes can see. But it's not all fun and games.

Marmot!

Iz had a great time in the first part of the hike. After we left the chains, she kept a hand looped in the hiking pole while I held the other end, as a movable handrail.

Just... I can't even.

One of us really had a hard time with the elevation and exposure of this trail. Looking at body language, can you guess who that is?

Sheeps!

We climbed over the pass and were amazed to have another whole world of mountains open up to us. 

At this point in the hike, I am overwhelmed by the beauty around us. I can see for miles and miles. And each view is better than the one before. But by this point, our youngest two hikers, who ordinarily trade off on who is having a good hike and who is having a terrible hike, both are starting to crash. And it only goes downhill from here. Literally and figuratively. Because at this point, we are only 1/3 of the way through the hike. And we had expected things to get progressively better because the first half went up and the rest went down. But... not so much. But more on that later.

By this point, Mom and Dad had (wisely) turned back to return to the trailhead, while we continued onward. It was about another 1.5 miles past this point that we waited for about 30 minutes because an enormous female grizzly was there, next to the trail, with her very young cub.

When we left the trailhead at Logan Pass, we heard from rangers that there had been a griz spotted 3.5 miles up the trail. But, 3.5 miles up the trail, no griz. And we continued on our merry way. And as we approached a little rise, a family of four, who look like they're really new to this, are stopped and kind of hunkered down really low, and tell us that there is a bear just ahead.

"Where?" we ask.
"Just ahead."
"How will we spot it?"
"There are about 20 people there."

And so we went over the little rise, and saw twenty or so people sitting and standing around at the next little rise, about 1/4 mile ahead. I'm not sure if this family thought that the bear had the power of teleportation or was going to blast them with her laser eyes or what, but they were not going to screw around with the idea of keeping a safe distance. But we joined the larger group of people and immediately saw her. And she was, without question, the biggest bear we have ever seen in the wild. This was not the "oh how adorable, she's digging" type of bear. This was more of the "Oh lawdy, I hope I am still alive later today" type of bear. I don't know if I have even seen a bear this big in a zoo. And the males get to be another 300-400 pounds bigger? No thank you. Looking back to the pre-hike anticipation, it's always that mixed bag of "Ooooohhh wouldn't it be cool if we saw a bear today" vs. "Oh crap, it's a bear."

We really didn't want to turn around at this point (turns out that turning around would have been a great idea, more on that later) as we were very nearly halfway through our 12-mile hike. On the other hand, we also didn't want to die. I quickly began surveying the crowd that was with us to see who I could outrun. Actually, I thought we could easily and safely move around the bear, seeing as see was probably 50 yards off of the trail at this point, and there was one of her and twenty of us and there was just no way she would but anyway twelve of us had bear spray just in case she did. But at the same time, there was absolutely no way I was going to be the ringleader on this. I could just see the headlines:

THIRTEEN DEAD IN SAVAGE GRIZZLY ATTACK

SURVIVORS BLAME SHORT, SOMEWHAT PAUNCHY MUSIC TEACHER WHO SAID "DON'T WORRY, IT WILL BE FINE"

And so we waited.

And finally, there was this young couple that had backcountry reservations, and the man stands up and says in a loud voice, "We're going. Who's with us?"

Um, yes. We're happy to go, now that we know who to blame.

Fifteen of us went, trying as best as we could to move as group, but still move quickly and see where she was without making eye contact. (Bear researchers have done interviews with bears and discovered that making eye contact really pisses them off.) And for just a second the cub poked her head up and with her colorations looked like a blond panda and was just the cutest thing you could ever imagine seeing but I still didn't want to die.

Once we got past Mama Bear and were at a safe distance, we started slowing down because 1) it was a safe distance and 2) we all wanted photos to prove everything I've just said is true, but 3) the people in the back started FREAKING OUT. Apparently they also knew that this bear had the power of teleportation and laser eyes, and they sort of shoved us down the trail until getting any kind of decent pic (with an iPhone, anyway) was nearly impossible.

But, we were safe.

And didn't have to throw any of the smaller, slower folk in the path of the bear.

And we went around the corner, and the mom behind me, who was previously freaking out, says to her husband, "Whoo! Well, I've had my adventure for the day!" And her husband starts FREAKING OUT.
"Oh, an adventure, huh?!?!? Didn't seem like fun to me at all!!!!"
"Well, I didn't say it was fun!"
"Yeah, well I didn't want to do it at all!"
"Well, maybe you should have said so, FRANK!"

Note to Frank: Once your wife has started using your own name as a weapon against you, it's really time to call it a day. You aren't coming out of this in one piece.

"Well it was your idea!!!!!"
"Well, we survived, didn't we, FRANK?!?!? And anyway, every single adult in this whole group was smart enough to buy bear spray before coming on this hike except for you, FRANK."

Ouch. It was at this point that I announced that I had to go to the bathroom, so that the Bickersons could continue down the path ahead without us. And this side of this beautiful hill, looking up through the rocky meadow, and out toward Lake MacDonald between the mountains, is the nicest place I have ever gotten to pee.

Looking up toward the rocky meadow

Lake MacDonald beginning to peek through the mountains.

This was really the best bear photo I could come up with. She's at the bottom, right of center. Taken from approximately 125 yards away while moving at a sprint because the lady behind me and Frank were FREAKING OUT.

While others were failing and flailing, Gabriel was a rock on this hike, and I don't think I would have stayed sane without him. As morale was reaching an all-time low for * cough cough * some of us, he began quoting his online health class, in the sing-song, peaceful happy voice of BeyMax from Big Hero 6:

"Don't worry about me, Dad, because to handle a stressful situation, I know to #1) Be prepared, which we were; #2) keep a positive attitude; #3) something else that I can't remember [I didn't forget, he couldn't ever remember, and would always say that]; and #4) don't do drugs. And Dad, right now, I am not doing drugs."

We finally - FINALLY! - made it to the chalet. And the views were incredible. And the buildings were these little stone buildings that made me feel like I was standing in Winterfell. Snack prices ranged from 75 cents for a bag of chips (fair) to $5.50 for a bottle of water (ridiculous, but about what you'd pay at the ballpark) to $9.50 for a slice of pie (are you freaking kidding me?). But then it occurred to me that somebody has to schlep this up 2,400 feet of elevation, and the prices actually reflect the weight and care and timeliness that is required to get the goodies up to the chalet.

Not actually my photos. All devices were dead at this point.

 And the outhouses were on the edge of the hill and just behind were all of the barrels and why would there be so many barrels and why would anybody need all of these 55-gallon barrels up here and then we see the little crane that swings from where the barrels are to where the outhouses are and OH MY GOD THEY'RE FILLED WITH POO.

And so we hiked for just a few minutes with a renewed spring in our step, singing "99 barrels of poop on a hill, 99 barrels of poop; take one down, crane it around, 98 barrels of poop on the hill."

But then we began our descent.

Throughout the entire hike, we just kept telling ourselves that it was all going to be okay, because the last 4.5 miles was all downhill. We knew we would make good time. We knew everything would be better because the kids all love going downhill, even though this was going to be steep. But this wasn't just steep; it was brutal and sadistic. This trail was unrelenting and took personal pleasure in our misery. Within a quarter-mile - 1/18th of the way to the end - our knees were screaming for relief. Our hips and then our feet followed. But relief never came. There was never even a flat spot. It. Just. Kept. Going.

At one spot, we stopped for a moment's rest, and three men, all looking to be about 50, came past from just behind us. And as they passed us, they said, "Oh no, don't stop! You guys were our bear scouts!"
"Please tell me you guys brought bear spray on this trail."
"Um, nope. None of us."
Morons. "Well, at least he'll be full by the time we get there!"

And then we continued. Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.

And then - Finally! - we saw the parking lot and shuttle stop! But then the trail turned away from it and kept descending for another mile and a half. But now we were in thick vegetation in full exposure of the afternoon sun.

And Kieran was potentially in the worst emotional state of his long and illustrious career of hating hiking with his family.

And Izzie was also in the worst emotional state of her entire hiking career.
And then she fell on the rocks and stones and gravel.

And so at this point we split up, so Liz could move at a more leisurely pace with Izzie while the boys tried to keep going at speed.

We had hoped to be to the shuttle by 5:00 pm, which would get us to our rendezvous with Mom and Dad by 6:00. This plan would be fine because the shuttle runs until 7:00 pm. We did know that we were quite late, but all phones were dead by this point and we didn't know know the exact time. And suddenly this guy that was going up to the chalet when we were already coming down runs by at a full sprint. And I said, "Hey man, what's up?" And he was English, and in his thick, thick, thick  Cockney accent, he said... well, I don't know what the hell he said. But just a moment after he passed, his friend came up at a full sprint. At this point, I thought perhaps they were being pursued. And I said that I couldn't understand his friend and why were they running so fast? And he called out as he passed that someone at the chalet said that the last shuttle bus at our stop wasn't at 7:00 but at 6:15!
"6:15?!?!?" I called out in reply, "but what time is it now?!?!?"
And as he went around the next bend, I heard "Iiiiiiiiii dooooooooon't knoooooooooooow!!!!"

And so we tried hiking even faster.

And then, at long last, our struggle was over.

And there, finishing the trail at the same time we did, was a family with about thirteen kids who were on their first hike ever, wearing sandals and flip flops and superlightweight sneakers, and carrying one 12-ounce bottle of water for all of them. And they're fine.

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While we all suffered, I don't believe I can convey the level of horror and drama and strife that overtook two of our noble party. I believe, as we made the descent from the chalet, that they may have been ready to accept the hand of fate. And we may have been ready for that as well.

Before we reached the chalet, we were tired. But after our descent, we were injured. It is now the morning of day three since that hike and I am just starting to feel better. Yesterday I could barely put on shoes because my feet were still swollen and I have open blisters. And lest you think it's just because I'm getting old WHICH I'M NOT SO YOU CAN JUST SHUT UP the kids still have sore feet, knees, and hips as well.

But the views. I can't speak for anybody else, but I'm glad we glad this. And we have a new benchmark for what we can do on a hike.

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Did I mention, that as she hiked alone with Izzie, Liz walked - within a few feet of the trail - right past another bear?

FIN.