Our final full day at Montana’s Glacier National Park began early on Thursday September 14, 2023 when Tom’s alarm went off at 5:00am. The first thing my photographer did was check the weather report for the park – which thankfully boasted a forecast for mostly sunny skies, mid-70s temperature, and no chance of rain.
The three of us left the hotel parking lot shortly before sunrise as we began the 30-mile drive to the St. Mary East Entrance to the national park. As Vicki navigated the Truckster around a sharp curve on Highway 89, the quietness of the early morning ride was broken when my photographer’s wife yelled out the word “BEAR!” Sure enough, I looked up from my camera case and saw a huge black bear standing in the middle of the road. As Vicki hit the brakes, the bear ran and disappeared into the brush on the east side of the highway. What a way to start our day – there’s nothing better than seeing an elusive creature in its natural habitat.
By the time the orange ball of the sun had risen over the eastern horizon, we had made it through the NPS St. Mary Entrance and were once again on Glacier National Park’s Going-to-the-Sun Road. For the first 45 minutes or so, it seemed as though we had the park to ourselves. The further west we headed, however, the more traffic we encountered, which made it difficult to find a place to park near some of the good vantage points.
It’s been said over the years that a picture is worth a thousand words. And even though photographs cannot accurately depict the natural beauty we saw for 51 miles along the Going-to-the-Sun Road, here are over twenty thousand-worth of words from our time at Glacier National Park.
For 51 miles, the three of us headed west along the Going-to-the-Sun Road as we went through the heart of Glacier National Park. Although there were times the early morning shadows made viewing the scenery a bit more difficult than we hoped, Tom’s initial plan was to retrace our steps once we reached the Apgar Visitor Center. But that idea came to a screeching halt when my companions saw the line of traffic entering the West Entrance of the park. With the vehicle reservation policy no longer in effect, visitors were streaming into Glacier like piss ants to a picnic. That’s the moment I heard my photographer say to his wife, “It’s time to visit the Two Medicine Store where Franklin Roosevelt spent some time in 1934. It would take forever to go back the way we came along the Going-to-the-Sun Road, so we’ll go around the southern border of the park on Route 2 and that should take us close to the Two Medicine Entrance.”
After an hour and fifteen-minute scenic drive along Route 2, which took us in and out of the park’s boundaries several times, we made it to the Two Medicine Entrance of Glacier National Park. The traffic seemed pale in comparison to the Going-to-the-Sun Road, and at first, I thought we might have the Two Medicine Store to ourselves. But once we made it past the Running Eagle Falls site where Tom and Vicki had hiked on Tuesday, it became very evident I was badly mistaken. By the time we arrived at the end of 2 Medicine Road, we saw cars parked everywhere – and of course, the piss ants were back.
Luckily, Vic found a parking spot near a public picnic area, which wasn’t too far from the Two Medicine Store. Tom carried me along a makeshift trail, which was a shortcut to the store; and within a few minutes, I found myself emerged in the historic ambience of President Franklin D. Roosevelt.
The Two Medicine Store is the only surviving building from the Two Medicine Chalets that were built along the northeastern shore of Two Medicine Lake in 1914. Twenty years later, on August 5, 1934, our 32nd President arrived at the chalets where he delivered a national radio address after he had been driven through Glacier National Park along the Going-to-the-Sun Road. His speech was primarily centered on our nation’s recovery struggles during the Great Depression, as well as his thoughts and plans for America’s national parks.
In the early portion of his address, Roosevelt said to the American people who were listening from all around our great nation, “Today, for the first time in my life, I have seen Glacier Park. Perhaps I can best express to you my thrill and delight by saying that I wish every American, old and young, could have been with me today. The great mountains, the glaciers, the lakes and the trees make me long to stay here for all the rest of the summer.”
As I posed for numerous photos near the exterior of the log structure, I thought about FDR, who was just over a year into his first term when he visited the park. While the store looked well-preserved on the outside, the windows and doors were boarded shut, and the interior was closed to the public. My original goal was to stand inside the Two Medicine Store and say out loud to anyone listening, “I wish every Chinese-made bobble head in America could be with me today.” But unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
When Tom and I had finished our visit at the store, he carried me down to the shore of Two Medicine Lake where I dipped my toes in glacier water – and let me tell you, that water was so cold I thought my resin nipples might poke through my shirt, vest, and overcoat. While I was fortunate that didn’t happen, I did suffer from a severe case of “shrinkage”.
We found Vicki down by the lakeside, and although she dipped her toes in the lake, the frigid water didn’t have the same effect on her as it did me – which was lucky for everyone around. Just as the two of us caught up with her, Tom and I found Vicki engaged in a conversation with four young college students from Poland. It turned out the four friendly lads, one of whom spoke English better than most Americans, were lifeguards. They had come to the U.S. on a thirty-day visa where they planned to travel all around our country to visit as many national parks as possible. One member of the group told my companions they were sleeping in their rented van and hadn’t showered in three days. My photographer and I did our best to stay up-wind from the quartet – at least until they hopped into a rented boat and headed out into Two Medicine Lake.
Even though the three of us had spent only 30 minutes visiting the Two Medicine Store and the nearby lake, I enjoyed that site more than any other in Glacier National Park. Like I’ve said a countless number of times in the past – there’s nothing like a Presidential site to put a bounce in my step and a wobble in my neck.
While Vicki decided to find an alternate path back to the picnic area, Tom wanted to take the path of least resistance – which meant my photographer carried me along the same shortcut route he had discovered a half-hour earlier. Suddenly, just as we reached the roadway where our van was parked, my photographer and I saw a line of vehicles stopped still in the road. It turned out the drivers were waiting for a small herd of bighorn sheep. Some of gorgeous animals were in the road, while a few others devoured discarded food from a firepit. Even though the bighorn sheep were wild critters, they didn’t seem overly afraid of the dozen or so people who stood and watched the entire herd from a distance of thirty or forty feet.
It was only one-thirty in the afternoon, and we had plenty of daylight left to see more of Glacier National Park, but due to the ever-growing congestion caused by visitors and their vehicles, my companions decided to head back to our hotel in Browning. But there was a method to Tom’s madness – which I discovered when I heard my photographer tell his wife he planned on seeing the sunset over Chief Mountain that evening. I was stunned, amazed, and excited all at the same time. In my mind, that was the perfect way to end our visit – the three of us would get the opportunity to pay tribute to the Native American culture at their most-sacred site.
Back in Browning, my two companions grabbed an early dinner from the nearby Taco John’s, which they devoured in our room at the Glacier Peaks Hotel & Casino. After Tom and Vic took a two-hour nap, the three of us boarded the Truckster for the 54-mile journey back to the roadside viewing area just east of Chief Mountain. My photographer’s goal was to view the sunset from the same place we had met artist Greg Kintz a day earlier.
I was surprised by our early departure as the sun was still quite high in the late-day sky, but I understood the reasoning once I heard Tom say “I’d rather be an hour early than five minutes late. This is our last shot at seeing a sunset over Glacier National Park and I don’t want to miss it.”
The drive was uneventful from Browning, all the way past Babb, and into the final ten-mile stretch of roadway along Chief Mountain Highway. As we got close to our intended destination, Tom was guided by memory as he tried to find the precise overlook. However, much to his surprise, the landscape and sacred mountain looked different in the late-day sun compared to our early afternoon visit the previous day. Finally, at 6:49pm, we arrived at our “Sunset Destination” – and it was exactly one hour before the sun was scheduled to set.
The silence was deafening as we waited patiently in the van for the Earth to rotate the final sixty minutes. As the clock slowly ticked down to 7:49pm, an occasional vehicle sped past our position and broke the stillness of the moment. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the distinct sound of ‘mooing’ cattle – and by the tone, it seemed as though the cattle were just around the bend in the road a few hundred yards to the north of us. As the low wails and moans of the cattle grew louder and sounded closer, I heard my photographer say to his wife: “By the sound of that mooing, I predict those cows will be all around us within fifteen minutes.” A minute or two later, I saw Tom point his camera towards a brush-filled area at the north end of the overlook because he wanted to get a picture of the approaching cattle. But when the camera’s flash went off, the mooing stopped, and the cattle were never seen nor heard from again. It’s hard to explain, but during that entire ordeal, I had an uneasy feeling. We were alone, out in the middle of nowhere, and it felt as though someone, or something, was watching us.
While the cattle never appeared, the sun slowly disappeared from our view. The blue sky became tinted with splashes of orange and red; then, as if directed by Native American spiritual intervention, a cloud formation that resembled an eagle in flight appeared to the right of the silhouetted Chief Mountain. An eagle is considered by Native Americans to be sacred – and to witness that large eagle flying over the sacred mountain left me awestruck and speechless. Nínaiistáko was transforming before our very eyes; and quite frankly, it was a very moving experience for me.
The three of us were alone, or at least we thought we were, in the heart of Blackfoot country as the sun slowly vanished in the western sky, just south of our view of Chief Mountain. The sun is considered by the local Native Americans to be the most important of all and has been at the center of Blackfoot religious beliefs for centuries. As a matter of fact, the sun is also considered by the Blackfeet as one in the same with their Supreme Being – Apistotoke.
“Don’t let the sun go down on me; although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see. I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free. But losin’ everything, is like the sun goin’ down on me.”
Darkness came upon us quickly, and we had over 50 miles of deer, cow, and bear-infested roads to navigate during our return trip to our hotel. By the time we made it into St. Mary, however, Tom asked his wife to stop at a grocery store so he could search for some huckleberry jam. Not only did St. Mary Grocery have an endless variety of foodstuff made from huckleberries; they also had another snack food that caught my photographer’s trained eye. Located near the checkout counter, Tom found two stacks of chocolate bars that featured the elusive Sasquatch on the wrappers. From my position in the camera case slung around Tom’s shoulders, I heard my photographer laugh and say: “Well, Vic, this proves it. We ARE in Bigfoot country, and it looks like Squatch loves chocolate!”
On the road again, I had the pleasure of listening to my photographer as he munched on huckleberry licorice ropes, which sounded as good as they likely tasted. After we had left the store, Highway 89 became very dark and desolate; with only the van’s high beams giving my companions a chance to spot a wayward critter in the road. From an opening in the camera case, I watched as the road’s yellow center lines flashed by in a blur. There was a sense of uneasiness in our van, as well; I could feel it. It was the first time on the trip where we had to travel a long distance in complete darkness, and Vicki was on pins and needles.
Just when the spirit-filled and eerie night couldn’t become any more edgy, a round, bright orange light appeared in the dark sky in front of us. If I had to guess, I’d say the object was about a thousand feet above us, and there was no doubt in my mind the glowing craft was in motion. Roughly five or six seconds after I first saw it, the object appeared to rotate towards our direction, and I saw an extremely bright white light that pulsated from its center. Even though the light was blindingly intense, I could tell the orange craft wasn’t round. I saw it very clearly – it looked like an odd cylindrical shaped object with a few defined edges around the center. Seconds after the white light appeared from the orange object, the entire craft faded to black. It didn’t just disappear as though someone flicked a switch; it faded away over a second or two. Once again, I was completely at a loss for words and totally flabbergasted.
After the object had vanished, I heard Vicki say to my photographer, “Where did it go? That light was really bright. I wonder what it was.” Tom replied, “I know you’re going to think I’m nuts, but I believe we just saw a UFO – likely an alien spacecraft.” That opinion was immediately followed by Vicki’s usual skepticism, which in the past, has been reserved for possible Sasquatch encounters: “Oh come on, there has to be a logical explanation besides a flying saucer. It was probably a helicopter, or a low flying airplane, or maybe one of those Chinese lanterns.” Tom did his best to debunk his wife’s theory. “Helicopters and airplanes aren’t orange, plus their main lights wouldn’t have just faded out. Had that object been one of those, we should have been able to see it until we drove past it. But that didn’t happen – it just faded away in front of us. And I don’t believe it was a floating Chinese lantern because the white light was blinding – it was as intense as a welder’s arc flash.” At that moment, total silence filled the van – not another word was spoken. I stood alone in my camera case and listened to the sound of the tires humming on the highway all the way back to the hotel.
We made it back to our hotel in Browning at 9:20pm and I was still in a state of complete astonishment. Tom and I wholeheartedly believe we saw an alien spacecraft near Glacier National Park. Vicki, on the other hand, was very nonchalant about the encounter. While my photographer’s wife made it very clear the object wasn’t extraterrestrial, Vicki did claim she didn’t get a great look at the light as she was too busy watching for critters in the middle of the road. Too bad a Sasquatch didn’t run in front of the van, maybe that would’ve changed her attitude about the paranormal.
After Tom placed me alongside the television set, I watched as he and his wife heated up a couple of late-night meals in the microwave. My photographer polished-off another bowl of Ramen noodles, while Vicki devoured a spaghetti dinner which she had purchased at the St. Mary Grocery store.
Before he crawled into bed for the night, Tom decided to upload all of the day’s images from his camera’s memory card onto an external hard drive he had plugged into the laptop. I watched intently as he looked at the images one by one. When my photographer found the random image he had taken just before sunset at the Chief Mountain overlook, all I saw on the monitor was a photo of thick brush and weeds at the end of the paved roadway where we were parked. Then he enlarged the image – and I heard him say out loud: “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Vic, there was something in the weeds watching us. I can see its head and face.” Vicki walked over to where he was sitting and said, “That’s not a face – it’s just shadows on a tree. You have a wild imagination.” Tom replied, “Wild imagination my ass – that’s a face watching us, and I believe it might be a shapeshifter; or a skinwalker; or maybe even an alien being. Many Native American tribal legends have been passed down for centuries that speak of Star People, as well as shapeshifters. Since we were smack-dab in the heart of the Blackfoot reservation and near their most sacred site, I sure in the heck-fire believe that was a strange being watching us. It’s not a shadow.”
Let me tell you, that statement not only opened up a whole new can of worms, but it also made my resin skin crawl. First, I saw an alien spaceship flying above us in the night sky. And if that wasn’t enough, I also found out a possible skinwalker or alien being had watched our every movement. I had a gut feeling we were being watched at that overlook – now I saw proof the three of us weren’t alone.
When Tom extinguished the lights in our room at 10:45pm, I was suddenly all alone; with only my thoughts to keep me company. For over two days I had bathed in the glory of the Blackfoot culture and walked the soil where their brave people have lived and worshipped for centuries. Their land is sacred; as is their heritage.
Tonight, we saw an eagle soar from the heavens and land upon Ninaistako, while Apistotoke took his brush and splashed the sky from his colorful palette. It’s been written throughout the ages that a sunset, like life, has its own story to tell – of beginnings and endings, of joy and farewell. With the splendor we witnessed this evening, there was no doubt in my mind, Manitou, the Blackfoot “Great Spirit”, had sent us off with the greatest gift of all – and that was a close encounter of the best kind.
“Kitatama’sino!”
What a beautiful day you had at Glacier National Park! The early morning start really paid off. The wildlife and the views were amazing. And UFOs, skinwalkers and bears, oh my!
It was good to beat a lot of the traffic into the park, but the sun and shadow contrasts made photography difficult in the early morning hours. The FDR site was great, but the sunset at Chief Mountain was spectacular – even though we were being watched. Thanks for the comment.