Glacier National Park Read online

  GLACIER NATIONAL PARK

  Going to the Sun

  Adventures with the Parkers

  Mike Graf

  ILLUSTRATED BY

  Marjorie Leggitt

  FALCON GUIDES

  GUILFORD, CONNECTICUT

  HELENA, MONTANA

  AN IMPRINT OF GLOBE PEQUOT PRESS

  Text © 2012 Mike Graf

  Illustrations © 2012 Marjorie Leggitt

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

  FalconGuides is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

  Falcon, FalconGuides, and Outfit Your Mind are registered trademarks of Morris Book Publishing, LLC.

  Photo credits:

  Licensed by Shutterstock.com: title page, 1 (bottom); 3; 4; 8; 17; 18–19; 22; 23: © Rick Laverty; 24; 25; 26 (all); 29: © Doug Lemke); 36; 37; 39: © Colin D. Young); 41; 45; 52; 53 (top); 58 (bottom); 63; 68: © Rick Laverty; 77: © Karoline Cullen; 84; 90–91; 93: © Frontpage; 94; inside back cover

  © Mike Graf: 1 (top); 5; 14; 15; 28; 32–33; 34; 39; 49 (all); 50; 53 (bottom); 56 (all); 58 (top); 64; 65; 66; 69; 75

  © Greg Lipinski: 60; 61

  Map courtesy of the National Park Service

  Illustrations: Marjorie Leggitt

  Models for twins: Amanda and Ben Frazier

  Project editor: David Legere

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  ISBN 978-0-7627-8687-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  1

  A large brown animal dove underwater.

  Two calves nearby watched their mother disappear. One of the calves chewed on some water lilies, then searched around for more.

  The other young calf turned back just in time to see a surge of bubbles break the surface of the marsh. The mother reappeared with a clump of pondweed in her large mouth. She slurped in the nutritious food as excess water drained away.

  The cow moose hopped out of the water with her twin calves right behind.

  One of the newborns slipped on the wet bank. It kicked at the ground, trying to get up. The mother returned to the water and approached the calf from behind, pushing it gently with her long snout.

  Off in the forest, a gray animal tilted his muzzle toward the air and picked up a faint scent. He perked up his ears and took several steps toward the distant smell. The robust wolf trotted along, letting his senses guide him. He paused momentarily to lift his leg and urinate against a tree. Now other wolves would know where he had been.

  The mother moose nudged at the struggling calf. The newborn bleated loudly and frantically kicked its feet. Finally, with the cow’s prodding, the young moose stood up and wobbled along.

  The three moose walked into a brushy meadow. In the middle of the grass was a flattened area. The mother and her two young lay down there. One of the calves rested its nose on the cow’s stomach.

  The area was surrounded by large sculpted mountains. Several small snowfields clung to the high peaks far above the trees. A few waterfalls cascaded down into the valley where the three moose rested.

  The adult moose pivoted her ears in both directions, listening to the sounds of the wilderness. Then she, too, rested her head.

  Several minutes later, the mother moose stood up. She led her young through a gently rolling stream. The delicate turquoise waters gurgled along rhythmically.

  The lone wolf ran to the edge of the forest. He stopped and peered ahead toward a series of meadows and small ponds. The wolf paced back and forth, his powerful sense of smell alerting him that prey was very close.

  2

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad were cleaning up after dinner. It was their first evening in Glacier National Park in northern Montana. They were camped at Fish Creek, on the west side of the park.

  Ten-year-old twins James and Morgan hoisted the ice chest into the car. “Be careful of Dad’s banner!” Morgan whispered.

  A ranger holding an animal pelt walked up.

  Morgan and James put the cooler down in the trunk. Mom and Dad heard the approaching footsteps and looked up.

  “Good evening!” the ranger greeted the Parkers. “Welcome to Fish Creek.” The ranger glanced at the campsite. “You have one of my favorite spots in the campground. Just down the hill is a little trail leading right to the lake.”

  “We sure like it,” Morgan agreed.

  James looked at what the ranger was carrying. “What’s that?”

  “A wolf pelt,” the ranger replied. She held it out for Morgan and James to pet.

  Morgan reached over and touched the pelt gently. “What happened to it?”

  “Unfortunately, this wolf was hit by a car,” the ranger replied. “I’m giving a campfire talk on wolves tonight at the amphitheater so you can learn more about one of Glacier’s predators. There won’t be a fire, though. There’s a burn restriction throughout the park due to the extremely dry conditions.”

  “What time’s the talk?” Dad asked.

  “7:30.”

  Dad glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes to finish cleaning up, then.”

  The ranger trotted off to another campsite.

  The wolf crept slowly out of the cover of the trees. He reached the pond and quickly splashed across. Then he came to a flattened area in the grass and sniffed around, picking up a fresh scent. The powerful predator surged through the grass and crossed a gurgling stream.

  The wolf saw movement ahead. He crouched behind a tree, growled softly, and bared his teeth.

  “So,” the ranger continued at the amphitheater, “wolves typically live in packs of about four to seven, although they can also travel alone. It often depends on the availability of food.

  “Here in the West, they live anywhere from Alaska to Montana and in parts of Idaho, Minnesota, and Wyoming. Wolves are five to six and a half feet long and weigh eighty to a hundred pounds. They can be white, gray, tan, black, or multicolored.

  “Years after their disappearance from Glacier,” the ranger concluded, “they returned on their own around 1980. Now there are several packs living in the park.”

  The ranger pressed a button on her remote, and several pictures of wolves came up on the screen. She pressed another button, and a chorus of recorded howls serenaded the audience.

  The crowd listened to the cacophony of calls. Mom leaned toward her family. “An eerie but beautiful sound if I’ve ever heard one,” she said.

  The ranger turned on the lights. “Thank you for coming to the presentation. I’ll be up front if any of you want to ask a few questions or hang around and chat.”

  After the talk, Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad returned to camp. Dad looked up at the evening sky, then through the trees at Lake McDonald. “Why don’t we head down there?” he suggested.

  The Parkers walked to the sandy beach. They sat and gazed out at the placid lake.

  Sunset in Montana.


  A family of ducks paddled by. One by one they dipped their beaks into the water and lifted them back up. For a brief moment all five birds dove under at once. They resurfaced together a few feet away.

  “I wonder if they’re trying to catch fish,” Morgan said.

  “It sure appears that way,” Mom said.

  James studied the massive sculpted mountains at the far end of the lake. A small plume of smoke drifted above one of the peaks.

  Dad glanced at his watch. “Nine o’clock,” he announced. “And it’s still light out.”

  “Welcome to northern Montana,” Mom responded. “The land of late summer sunsets.”

  “It’s completely dark at this time where we live,” Morgan said.

  “Except it’s only eight o’clock in California,” James reminded his sister.

  A drop of saliva trickled out of the side of the wolf’s mouth.

  Sensing danger, the moose family began trotting away.

  The wolf sprang after them.

  One of the calves stumbled. Its wobbly young legs struggled to clamber over the rooty, rocky path.

  The wolf bolted ahead, fixating on the trailing calf.

  The mother led both calves toward a rock-and-boulder-strewn slope at the edge of a mountain. She turned and stood, shielding her young while nudging them higher onto the rocks.

  The lone gray wolf closed to within fifty feet of the three moose. He dashed ahead while the calves scampered farther uphill, stopping where the mountain became steep.

  The wolf ran right up to the moose family.

  The cow turned her hind end toward the carnivore, hoisted her back legs off the ground, and kicked the wolf.

  The blow slammed into the wolf’s leg, sending him somersaulting onto the forest floor. He yelped, then stopped rolling. The wolf lay still, stunned by the kick. After a moment, he slowly stood. The wolf gingerly half-extended his paw and held it above the ground. A trickle of blood oozed down his leg. He licked the wound while keeping his eyes fixed on the three moose.

  A moment later, he turned and hobbled into the forest.

  The three moose watched the wolf limp away. Then the cow hopped up and nudged each of her calves down the slope. One calf stumbled and fell, knocking several rocks loose. More rocks gave way, creating a flurry of small boulders crashing down the mountain.

  The mother instinctively bolted away from the building avalanche, her upright calf instantly following her. But the rockfall smacked into the sprawled calf. Debris quickly began burying her. Soon the young moose was out of sight. The cascade of rocks slowed to a trickle before finally stopping.

  The cow moose bleated in distress. She climbed up the precarious field of loose rocks and pried and pawed at the rocks but couldn’t get the large ones to budge. As darkness began to fall, the mother moose found shelter nearby with her remaining calf.

  The Parkers rose from the sand and walked to a nearby footpath. They took the trail toward Rocky Point, a small, rocky peninsula of land jutting out into the lake.

  After a few minutes, the family reached their destination. They circled the point, gazing at the shoreline and the views.

  James heard something move in the forest. “What’s that?”

  They all peered into the trees, trying to decipher what it was.

  “I don’t see anything,” Mom said.

  Morgan heard the noise again. “There it is!”

  The Parkers watched a ground squirrel dash across the forest floor and hop onto a tree trunk. The squirrel quickly scampered up the tree.

  Dad gazed at the path toward camp. “You know, all that talk on our drive here has given us bearitis. Come on, let’s head back,” he said. “It’s getting dark.”

  3

  The next day, the Parkers packed up and drove north on a remote highway. The alternating paved and dirt road led them to the hamlet of Polebridge, just outside the northwest entrance to Glacier. Mom pulled the car up to a general store.

  Dad got out and looked at the unusual little village. “I feel like we’re in an outpost in Alaska somewhere,” he said.

  “Shall we check out the store?” Mom asked.

  The family walked inside. The small store had groceries, souvenirs, and camping supplies. Morgan and James immediately noticed all the baked goods. They glanced at their parents, asking without saying a word.

  “Don’t worry,” Dad mentioned. “I got hungry the moment I saw all those too.”

  The Parkers picked out some muffins and scones and sat down at a table.

  After a night spent nearby the scene of the avalanche, the mother moose returned to her buried calf. She managed to flip a few additional rocks over. A partially mangled leg stuck up. The mother tried to dig some more while her other calf watched from a short distance away. The cow let out a final call of distress before climbing down to her remaining offspring. The two moose walked together toward the marshy pond that was their home.

  After enjoying their afternoon treat and walking around Polebridge, the Parkers returned to their car. They reentered Glacier at the entrance station just outside of town. Dad maneuvered the car along a rough gravel road. “It’s definitely not a freeway out here,” he commented. “I bet very few people come to this part of the park.”

  “But I’m glad we did!” Morgan exclaimed. “It’s neat going to seldom-seen places.”

  Finally they reached the end of the road at Bowman Lake. Dad circled the small campground until the family found a spot they liked.

  The Parkers paid for the site and set up their tent. Mom and Dad unhitched the kayak from the roof of the car. They hauled the boat toward the water’s edge and plopped the craft down on the beach.

  The family gazed at a long lake framed by deep forests and pinnacled mountains. “Wow,” Dad exclaimed. “Now this is wilderness!”

  The wolf stood up, stretched out, and licked his wound again. Then he gingerly hopped around in a small circle, carefully testing his weight on the injured leg. He immediately yelped and whined and lifted it again. Eventually the wolf limped back over to his makeshift den. He lay down and continued to clean the wound before resting his head on his paws.

  Morgan and Dad took the kayak out first. They paddled away from the shore. Morgan noticed how long the lake was. “It goes on forever,” she said to her father.

  “It’s like a fjord,” Dad said.

  “What’s that?” Morgan asked.

  “Fjords are long, fingerlike bodies of water carved by glaciers,” Dad explained. “Only they’re connected to oceans. These lakes in Glacier were also carved by rivers of ice, but freshwater filled them.”

  Morgan gazed at the high mountains. “Where are the glaciers now?”

  “The big ones from the ice age 10,000 years ago are gone,” Dad replied. “But the park does still have some small glaciers.” Dad studied the mountains. “I imagine they’re on the north- and east-facing slopes. Those areas get less direct sunlight, so the ice doesn’t melt as fast.”

  Morgan and Dad paddled toward the forested shoreline.

  “Look!” Morgan pointed.

  Dad and Morgan watched a couple of people walking along the lake. Morgan gazed ahead to see where the trail led. She noticed something else moving. “There’s an animal ahead of them!”

  Morgan and Dad paddled closer. They approached the shoreline and surveyed the forest, then looked back to see where the hikers were. “At least if it’s a bear,” Morgan mentioned, “we’re safe out here.”

  “Oh, I’m sure bears can swim if they want to,” Dad replied. “But it’s not a bear—look.”

  The animal lifted its head and chewed on some leaves. It walked into an opening in the trees before bending down and nibbling again.

  “It’s a deer!” Morgan exclaimed.

  The moose and her remaining calf walked around the lake eating moss and grass.

  Meanwhile, the odor of carrion filled the air.

  High above the forest, a grizzly bear flipped over a large rock with her powe
rful front paw. She thrust her nose into the depression where the rock had been. The grizzly gulped down cutworm moths, then stood back up.

  The bear detected the distinct smell of a fresh carcass. She scampered down from the boulder field and lumbered through the forest, turning over small rocks and digging up roots along the way. The strengthening scent of a dead animal directed her path.

  Morgan and Dad watched the hikers pass by the deer. Then they paddled back to the beach. As they approached, Mom and James waded out into the turquoise waters.

  James grabbed one end of the kayak and smiled. “This is what you get for being gone for so long,” he said playfully. James and Mom started splashing Morgan and Dad, who used their paddles to splash back.

  All four of the Parkers got soaked. After the water fight, they waded out of the lake, laughing, and returned their boat to camp.

  Later that day, they decided to take a walk along the same trail the hikers had followed earlier. The path skirted the shoreline of the lake, moving through thick, dense forest along the way. The Parkers strolled along until they reached the Numa Ridge Trail junction.

  Mom looked at her family. “Let’s go a little farther,” she suggested.

  The Parkers continued hiking. The trail stayed in the shade of the trees, making it seem later than it was. Dad suddenly stopped and held out his arms. “Hang on a second,” he announced. “Look at this.”

  Two large pieces of hair-filled scat were lying on the trail.

  “That looks like dog poop,” James said.

  “Exactly,” Mom responded. “Except dogs aren’t allowed on park trails.”

  “Well, we know what does live in Glacier that is doglike,” Dad said.

  “Wolves!” Morgan remembered. She took a picture of the scat. “I’m going to check this picture with an animal identification book later.”

  The Parkers peered into the dark forest and back toward the lake. Mom glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe it’s 7 PM,” she announced. “These Montana summer evenings really throw me for a loop.”