So here we are on the train towards Minneapolis/St. Paul, wishing we had brought more food with us. We had the foresight to make dinner reservations (a first, yay!), but it's not till 8:30pm and our stomachs are angry.
Glacier National Park is remarkably beautiful in the fall, and I wish we had had more time to spend there. As it was, we booked only two nights in the Belton Chalet, a nice little "hotel" literally directly across the train station, which was extremely convenient. Jessie was hit by a Portland death-flu, inflamed by having to stay up till 3am the night before giving me directions via cell-phone on how to get back from downtown Seattle. So we decided to take it easy.
We arrived only an hour late (oh, Amtrak) and made our way across the street to the chalet. Upon coming across sign after sign of "closed for the season" and "please call if you have any questions," along with zero cell coverage and freezing tuckuses, our hopes started to dwindle. A man suddenly popped out of the main building and we ran over to that area - on the back side of the building, up the stairs that adorn the outer wall, and at the second door, as it turns out, was the office. Who knew? When we knocked and explained our reservation status, the lady was nice, but definitely ruffled. "Well, normally check-in isn't until 4:00." Yes, that's wonderful and all, but we're pretty sure that we're your only damned customers for this entire week (we got an entire cabin to ourselves), and we called in advance way back when to inform you of our arrival time via train. Hell, we're even an hour late.
Ah well. The cabins were wonderful and very fancy for the area. This was also one of the cheaper ones. There was a bathtub (glory!), a coffee maker (impromptu tea-cooker), and a nice big bed. Delicious.
All the shuttle services in the park were shut down, so we did lots of walking. Given Jessie's lower level of energy than her normal self (which is to say, she was about equal to the rest of us), we ended up only going about 2-3 miles into the park, then turning around. Citing exhaustion, but also hunger, we made our way back and ate at the only restaurant open during the off-season. I got a buffalo-burger. Mmm-hmm. The Montana hospitality was quite nice here, and we ended up coming back the next night for dinner and dessert.
That next day was even shorter than the first. We got out of the cabin around 3, walked a bit along the river traversing the entrance to the park, then came back.
We know we barely touched the surface. The first day, walking alongside Lake McDonald, was intense. The lake is huge. The mountains are huge. The trees are bright; orange, green, red, brown. So we know we didn't do it justice.
On our way out, waiting for the train, an older lady came up and asked where we were headed. We responded Minneapolis/St. Paul, and that led into a longer conversation of where we're from and what we're currently doing. She seemed intrigued, both because she herself is considering an Amtrak trip (I told her it can get woozy at times, so be prepared if you get motion sickness), and also because "you don't see too many young people going by train."
She was surprised at the brevity of our stay, and recommended we come back in the summer, perhaps get a job nearby, and really explore the park. She said the summer here wouldn't be a part of your normal life. I love that idea. Maybe it's just being from a small town like Mt. Shasta, but the concept of just up and leaving your area of comfort, uprooting and moving to an unknown for a summer, kind of appeals to me. I doubt I'd ever do it, but the romance is strong.
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