There are miles of trail to hike at Glacier National Park, with breathtaking views unlike any other. Stepping into the park is like taking a step backward in time. But most of the park is still wild. And with parents along for this trip, everything from hiking the terrain to the music selection will be a test.

Editor's Note: This is part one of a two-part series on Glacier National Park. For the second part in the series, see next week's Outdoors section.

Story and photos by Shauna Stephenson
sstephenson@wyomingnews.com

A half mile out on the Hi-Line trail, my mother sits on a rock, firmly attached to the wall on her right.

She's not moving.

"Here," I say, offering my hand.

"Don't touch me," she says.

Alright. Now what?

Her actions are understandable. To her left is a sheer drop off, only two feet away. The handrail that was bolted into the rock is now gone.

The trail, set in the heart of Glacier National Park, is not technical by any means and the view is unlike any other.

For a reason.

In the past, she's had no problem with heights, but this place - where one misstep on the loose rocks step can send a person tumbling into the valley below - well, I understand the sudden change of heart.

I try again, offering my hand.

"Don't touch me," she says.

Then I get the dreaded look - the mother look.

You know what I'm talking about.

It's the look that can shrink the toughest, burliest, most unreasonable person into a "yes ma'am, no ma'am" pansy.

As an emergency room nurse, she likes to deploy this tactic on the unruly drunks that come into the hospital. I've come to believe that her success rate must be reaching the upper 90s by now.

And now, staring me down hundreds of feet above the valley floor, clinging to the side of a mountain?

She wins.

n

I spend much of my time on the road alone, so when the opportunity for some company comes up I take it.

Enter my parents, Deb and Roger.

We pull into Many Glacier Hotel late in the evening near the beginning of August, the sun silhouetting the mountains as they turn deep navy blue before disappearing into the darkness.

Driving in we saw the jagged skyline of the park, mountains which migrated from Idaho. But more on that later.

The Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park was created through several successions. Waterton Lakes Park was created in 1895, Glacier National Park in 1910, and the two were linked together as an International Peace Park in 1932.

And while tourists began rolling in around the early 1900s, Glacier had already been home to humans for thousands of years.

Surveys have found evidence dating back 10,000 years. When European explorers came through, several tribes including the Blackfeet, Salish and Kootenai lived and hunted in the area.

Trappers came next, in search of beaver pelts, and later the Lewis and Clark Expedition.

However, things didn't really begin opening up until the completion of the Great Northern Railway, which actually built many of the structures there today in an attempt to lure tourists from back east.

Now, we would be said tourists.

n

To many, Glacier is a backpacking paradise with mile after mile of trail. Only a small portion of the park is developed, the rest is managed as wilderness.

The U.S. portion of the park is essentially shaped like a tilted oval with the top cut off. That oval is bisected by the Going to the Sun Road, the only major road that runs through the park. The rest is still wild for the most part.

While my parents are not picky people, they do have one requirement for overnight travel: There must be flush toilets. I know, it seems a small request, but it essentially crosses off much of Wyoming and, indeed, the West.

So, the plan was to stay in a series of historic lodges and hotels within the park: Many Glacier Hotel, McDonald Lodge and Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton.

We fall into old routines, but with a twist.

I am an only child on this trip. I haven't been an only child since 1985.

My mother likes to tell a story of when I was young, asking her when my middle sister - recently born at the time - was going back. I didn't like having an intruder in my only child world. Since then, I've become accustomed, even grateful for having two other sisters to share the hot seat with.

At the age of 25, I am caught between that child who was chastised for staying out too late and a semi-adult - you know, the kind who say very adult things like "Man, I have such a stack of bills sitting at home," yet still have the time to go out and behave like a college student on the weekends?

Now, in the midst of family vacation, sans two sisters, I'm not really sure where I rank.

This is something I must test.

Driving in the car, I pop in a CD that includes a song from Linkin Park, the lyrics throwing in the occasional profanity.

Years ago, it would have played out something like this:

Profane music.

My mother: "What are you listening to?"

Me: "Nothing mom."

Mom: "Do you really think you should be listening to this. I mean, do we really have to listen to this."

Me: "But I like it."

Mom: "I don't think so."

End of discussion. Music gets shut off.

I turn the music up just enough to hear the lyrics and glance at my mother from the corner of my eye.

There is no reaction.

I turn it up.

No reaction.

I am puzzled. Maybe she didn't hear, or maybe she's not listening, but for some strange reason, there is not even a flicker of attention.

Very tricky, this new world order. Very tricky.

n

Stepping into Glacier is like stepping back in time, and while it's cliché, the concept is amazingly applicable to this alpine wonderland.

There is no cell phone service. There are no televisions. There are not even grounded outlets to plug a laptop into.

People sit around the fire at night and actually talk to each other.

They read books.

They enjoy a cold beer.

All the fuss of the modern world is forgotten at the gate.

The walls of the hotel are covered in old-timey photos, taken of the hotel when it was first opened. Men and women in period dress stand in the lobby of the old black and whites.

When visitors began arriving here at the turn of the 20th century, they often did so by boat.

According to the National Park Service, visitors could get off the train, take a stagecoach ride and then board a boat to reach their various destinations.

Often their visit included multiple days on horseback to see the park, ending in stays at the various hotels or backcountry chalets. At the time, there were no roads in the mountains. That would soon change, but we'll get to that later.

n

The room is small. The bed spreads are green and pink with large, gaudy flowers on them, which match the smaller, gaudy green and pink flowers on the curtains.

This hotel costs more than most, yet you essentially are paying only for the roof over your head, a bed and running water.

But to a traveler used to the cold ground, this place is divine.

There are whitecaps on the lake when we wake up. The wind seems to be blowing in some weather.

After breakfast, we check out and drive down to the Going to the Sun road.

This year marks the 75th anniversary of the Going to the Sun Road.

When it was dedicated, the superintendent at the time, Eivind Scoyen, called the road the "most beautiful piece of mountain road in the world."

It is considered a National Historic Landmark and a Civil Engineering Landmark. It winds its way along the steep slopes of the mountains, passing by small waterfalls that spill out from the snow pack above.

Out the back window, I watch as the mountains rise up around us.

The rocks in Glacier National Park are an interesting story in themselves.

David Rockwell explains the formation of the park in his book "Exploring Glacier National Park."

Millions of years ago, the area was essentially an inland sea. Deposition of material occurred and the sea dried up. At the time, the continents were somewhat of a hodgepodge, moving slowly to their present day positions. As this happened, islands collided with the mainland, putting pressure on the earth's crust, which slowly folded.

As it did, a fault tilted, much the way a see-saw might. Down that see-saw slid the mountains, placing older rock above younger rock, a rare occurrence at best.

"The compression fractured portions of the basin's rocks and thrust a slab 300 miles long and 20,000 feet thick 50 miles across northwestern Montana," Rockwell writes. "A portion of that prodigious chunk would become Glacier National Park."

After a short drive, we pull into Logan Pass.

The pass and visitor center is a popular destination. Often, the lot fills by about 11 a.m. Most tourist manuals suggest getting there early in the morning if you want a guaranteed spot.

We find a spot outside of the visitor's center for a program called "Goodbye to Glaciers."

A friendly ranger comes out to talk to the gathered group about climate change and its effect on the park. She says the park is experiencing change at three times the rate it would be felt at sea level.

In the mid-to-late 1800s, there were about 150 glaciers in the park. Now, there are about 25.

Since 1991, the U.S. Geological Survey has researched the trends - important work as their figures state that mountain ecosystems currently provide about 85 percent of the water humans depend on. According to their models, scientists are predicting that all of the glaciers within the park will be gone by 2030.

And while glaciers themselves are not overly exciting, as large sheets of ice tend not to be, the thought of Glacier National Park being without the very things it is named for...

Well, it makes a person wonder how we got into this mess.