The Lewis Overthrust at Glacier National Park near St. Mary, Montana.

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CONTINUED FROM: Day 17 – A Religious Experience (Part 1)

I thought the hike would be so much shorter. But St. Mary Lake was surrounded by so many ominous mountains, objects must have appeared closer than they really were.

As I said before, I was not prepared for my maiden walk into Glacier National Park. For starters, I was not dressed appropriately…at all. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. There was no planning. And if I did meet a grizzly bear face-to-face, I was defenseless. I was always told to make plenty of noise when walking through bear country, that way you wouldn’t startle them. But the wind was growling so loudly, a bear would have never heard me unless I was right on top of him.

I was barely prepared for a walk down State Street in Madison let alone Glacier National Park.

The only armor I had against freezing temperatures and stout winds was a hooded sweat shirt. But I had been in colder temperatures than this. Big deal.

I began hoofing it across the open plain. It was the only thing that separated me from the spot I wanted to photograph St. Mary Lake.  Occasionally I would stop, turn around, and take a rest from the fist of the cold wind. I would look back at my warm truck and the relative safety I left behind. But I then I would turn back around and begin walking again.

The moment I stepped foot onto this vast, grassy field I noticed feces on the ground. And I mean A LOT of feces…everywhere. I’m not much of a biologist, but it looked like it once belonged to a large ruminant; such as a pronghorn, deer, or elk, but I wasn’t certain. Dodging the mine field of poop was more difficult here than skipping through the pastures back home to avoid the cow patties…and the cow patties were much larger. The one thing I didn’t want was to step in a pile and bring this particular souvenir back home with me.

I stopped, turned around, and looked for my truck, but I could no longer see it. I could no longer see the visitor’s center at the entrance to Glacier National Park either. If the absence of both made me feel alone. I suddenly felt deserted. For the first time in knew what it felt like to be in a wilderness.

The hike took longer than expected. It took extra time to dodge deer poop, walk over uneven ground, lug all of my camera gear (much more than I needed), and avoid the marshy areas so my sneakers would remain dry. And because my head was down most of the way so it wouldn’t get cold, I was not walking in much of a straight my line. But I knew I was getting close when I felt a fine spray of water against my face. I looked up…I still had a ways to go.

When my feet stepped onto the stony shore of St. Mary Lake I plopped my ass down on a large piece of drift wood to rest. When I lifted my head up into the wind I became breathless. And not because of the wind.

What I saw is hard to describe in words. But it was so beautiful. If ever there was a scene that was worthy of the word beautiful, this was it. Imagine some of the tallest mountains in the world framing a clear, turquoise lake. Clouds swirled on the mountain tops like angels in long white robes. Waves, unlike anything I have seen on a body of water this size, crashed against the shore. All everything was punctuated by the emptiness of civilization. Yes, it was dangerous here, and the combination of noisy winds and crashing waves made this place anything but quiet, but it was oh so peaceful. I almost shed a tear.

I truly did have a religious experience. I was at the altar of God. Even if you don’t believe in a god, you’d need an empty heart to not feel the grace of something spiritual at this place. This land was once considered sacred to the Blackfoot Indians, too. And it is easy to know why. If you have ever been to Glacier National Park, you know what I felt. You must. And if you have never been to Glacier, you will never know what I felt until you experience it for yourself.

Right before you die some say we briefly ponder all of things we once loved; all of the people, places and times that meant the most to you. I had a chance in this most magnificent place to experience all of that without dying. I thought about many of my mistakes, too, and hoped I could do better. I wished I visited this place sooner in life; maybe things would have been better. Then again, maybe I needed to experience the purgatory of life before I could truly appreciate it.

Suddenly it all made sense. I came out west for a reason. Something called me. For a brief moment in time, I was at peace.

I sat there for about 20 minutes. I then got up and walked the shores of St. Mary Lake (alone) and took a few photographs. Not nearly enough, but as I said before, the lighting was terrible and I was just too cold.

I then packed up all of my gear, turned around and took one last look, and began the hike back to my truck. The walk back was much easier. The wind, now at my back, helped push me along the way.

When I pulled out I felt my hands, feet, and face begin to warm. I think I had a touch of frost bite, but nothing too serious and certainly not something worth whining about. It wasn’t until after I got home that I looked up the weather conditions at St. Mary. It was about 26 degrees that morning and winds were gusting up to 70 miles per hour. That means the wind chill was only 6 degrees above zero. Funny, it was cold, but I never felt it.

I also read the following day that the grizzly bears had woken from their winter’s nap and tracks were seen in the vicinity of St. Mary Lake. But I didn’t care. What I experienced was worth the risk and dangers of it all. And I knew I would return to Glacier National Park and experience things equally dangers. But I think I will be better prepared.

In more ways than one.