Glacier National Park is the twentieth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

A fews years before I took early retirement, we planned a National Park vacation. We narrowed it down to Grand Canyon/Zion or Glacier. I wanted to go north, but I was outvoted and so we went south. We had a great time and I will never forget that trip.

Now, I finally get to see Glacier National Park. I’m going alone rather than on a family vacation. I can go where I want and spend as much time as I like taking photographs, but I will not be sharing the experience with my family (except through photos). This trip will be much different than the other one. While I’m looking forward to the experience, I’m also a bit sad that my kids are grown and there will be no more “family vacations.”

I travel across Washington and Idaho quickly (for me), spending only one or two days at each stop until I finally reach the little town of Troy, in western Montana. I decide to spend a week here. It’s a rustic campground right on the river just outside of town. The town itself is tiny (population less than 800), and for the first time since I’ve been on the road, I wonder what it would be like to settle here. The scenery is breathtakingly gorgeous and the people are warm and friendly. Although I’m nowhere near ready to stop traveling, I make a mental note to consider this place when I am.

Just a few miles down the road is Kootenai Falls, a spectacular, multilayered waterfall where the Kootenay River rushes over ancient folds of compressed sandstone and shale. It is one of the largest waterfalls in the United States by volume of water. Although I spend an entire afternoon here, I never work up the courage to trek across the famously harrowing swinging bridge. After a climb up to the entrance, I look out over that narrow footbridge in the wind and decide to leave that adventure for others whose legs don’t turn to jelly at the thought of crossing it.

Unable to decide between the west side and the east side of Glacier National Park, I settled on both! I have reservations at a park in Hungry Horse, Montana for one week, and another week reserved at a park on the east side. Although my stay is scheduled for the last week of June and first week of July, the Going to the Sun Road has only just opened and many of the trails are still closed due to snow. Spring comes very late to this place.

Since I bought the new motor home, I’ve been lucky in finding pull-through or large back-in sites to stay. In Hungry Horse, Montana, my luck has just run out. The site I am assigned is barely big enough for my rig. Not only that, but there are trees on one side and a hedge on the other, which I must place myself exactly between and in the right spot to allow my slides to open and still have access to the outdoor compartments.

After about sixty tries, I finally manage to park in just the right place, at just the right angle. I’m exhausted. I chose this park, in part, because it got such great reviews. After a walk around the place, I can see why some people might leave a good review. Some of the sites are roomy, secluded, and gorgeous. My site, however, is not.

When I booked, there were only water and electric sites available (no sewer). They assured me I could use the dump station whenever necessary, so I thought I might use it once during the week and once when I leave. There is no way I am going to the dump station and re-parking in my tight-as-a-glove space again. I will just have to be frugal with my water use and utilize the public showers.

After the parking task and a walk around the park with Luna, I set out to explore Glacier National Park. For one thing, I can’t wait to see it. But, the main reason I want to go now is because I have designs on doing some sunrise photography tomorrow. I need to orient myself as to direction and distances.

I drive from the west entrance to the top of the Going to the Sun Road. What an amazing place this is! I’m so glad I made the long trek to the far northern reaches of Montana to see it. Even though it’s late June, the snow is still high and deep on the mountains and the spring melt is running everywhere. Most of the hiking trails are closed, except for the ones in the lowest elevations of the park. And while the weather in Hungry Horse is warm and sunny, it is chilly and stormy up high in the mountains.

After an awe-inspiring ride to the top of Logan Pass, I return to plot the next morning’s adventure. To be at the highest point for sunrise, I calculate that I must set out around 4:30 in the morning. An early dinner followed by a dog walk and early bedtime are in order.

The next morning, I set out in the dark to retrace my route. Just past the entrance to the park, I find myself lost—in a parking lot! It turns out I made a wrong turn at one of the intersections and ended up in a huge empty (because it’s not yet 5:00 am!) parking lot. A bit rattled, I finally find my way back to the Going to the Sun Road.

The sunrise is not as spectacular as I had hoped, but there is a magnificent alpenglow on Reynolds Mountain with the moon setting. This alone makes it worth the early rise and dark drive. In times like these, when there are no other people around, I imagine what it must have been like to drink in this beauty before it was marred by roads and buildings.

As my time on the west side dwindles, I find myself wanting to traverse some of the lesser traveled roads outside the park. While the magnificence of Glacier National Park is unmatched, the beauty of being alone in the forest has a special charm.

If I’m being honest, one of the things that drew me to this lifestyle was the idea of disconnecting from society. All my life I have stressed over what people think of me. Not just family and friends, but my employer, neighbors, co-workers and the community in general. A deep sense of shame was instilled in me as a child, sometimes simply for being myself. Living a life of solitude gives me some peace from that anxiety. I can interact with others when I want and not worry how they judge me because I may never see them again.

After my stay in Hungry Horse, and a short trip to Columbia Falls for a couple of new tires on the motor home, I make the two and a half hour drive to the other side of the park. Because of the size of my rig, and the narrowness of the Going to the Sun Road, I must travel around the park rather than through.

On the east side, I find myself again in a less than ideal RV park. With no sewer hookup and a limited allotment of tokens for the public showers, I set up in my space. There are just feet to spare between me and my neighbors. This arrangement seems to be typical for the area around the park. Of course, being only a mile or so from the park entrance does have its appeal.

One of the activities I plan to do while here is take a ranger led boat ride and hike. The lakes here are so fascinating with their glacial melt color and pristine clarity, taking a boat trip on Saint Mary Lake seems almost mandatory. It’s a memorable experience and I learn more about the park and its history in a few short hours than I ever could from brochures and websites.

With a sturdy and reliable new RV, and a growing confidence in myself and my journey, it feels like I am really growing into this new identity. Swiftcurrent Lake in the Many Glacier area of the park is calling me. There is a trail that goes around the entire lake and I can’t wait to hike it.

When I arrive, early in the morning, the lake is glass-smooth. The calm weather is a nice change. It has been very windy ever since I arrived. After a few photos of the gorgeous reflections from the lodge parking area, I set off on the trail.

After about a half hour, I find myself among a group, led by a park ranger, on a nature hike. Being alone has its appeal, but so does mingling with a group, especially in a national park inhabited by grizzly bears. For a little while, I tag along with the group, absorbing the knowledge shared by the ranger. I learn to recognize a couple of the native birds by their call. I also learn that bear grass is not really grass at all, but a member of the lily family.

At a fork in the trail, the group is going right, but to continue around the lake, I must go left. Quietly, I break off and continue my solitary hike. Once again, the reflections in the mirror-like surface of the lake captivate me and I must capture some photos. I find myself walking slowly because I don’t want to be back at the parking lot just yet. I still have a few more days here, but I want to savor this morning.