As most of you are aware, we recently endeavored upon a short trip to Glacier National Park in Montana. Although I could say that the photos tell the whole story, I thought I’d add some text to go along with them here.

We left late last Wednesday and cruised on over Snoqualmie pass into Eastern Washington where we camped for the evening before crossing the states lines that would lead us into Glacier. It turns out that we were headed to heaven on earth. 
We played Bethany Dillon and reminisced about the last time we were on these roads just over a year ago. It felt like we were breathing fresher air as we continued to climb mountain pass after mountain pass. Suddenly, we found ourselves into Montana.
A few of you found yourselves a little horrified that Ryan informed you about our next move-the one to Montana- on facebook. As it turns out, he was simply making an expression. We are not moving; although, admittedly, Ryan probably would broadcast life-altering decisions on facebook. So I can understand your concerns.
The expression itself, however, was not unfounded. Montana is unreal. The people are truly western–complete with cowboy hats, cowgirl boots and free-roaming cattle. The mountains roll like gentle ocean waves. They seem to push you along the roads. (And by the way, the roads are remarkably empty and have 70+ speed limits.) There’s a velvet texture to the hills, and the streams and rivers sparkle with such confidence that you feel as if they know they are the most spectacular sight anyone has ever beheld. 
We were fortunate to arrive at Glacier on Thursday afternoon. We camped on a lake surrounded by mountains. We drove down a winding road to bright green rivers that flowed over the rocks producing stunning waterfalls in quantities similar to seagulls at McDonalds. We hiked 11.5 miles on Friday. It was as if we traversed at the top of the world as we hiked on the edge of the mountains from Logan pass toward Granite park Chalet. The big horn sheep and mountain goats seem to understand where we should all live. Even the marmot is smarter than the rest of us. Ryan serenaded me and any surrounding bears the 4 miles back down the road. Remarkably, the bears ran away in horror. 🙂 Just kidding.
On Saturday, we woke up early, so I could capture some sunrise photos. We travelled down the Going-to-the-Sun road with the sun literally rising up above the tops of the Rockies right before our eyes. A big horn sheep leapt out of the sky in front of our car barely missing us. We felt alone in the most beautiful sense.
After some coffee entered our system, we went on to Many Glacier, a different, bear-filled section of the park. We saw a grizzly on the side of the road, and while waiting at a Swiss looking lodge for a boat to take us across a pristine, alpine lake, we watched a Grizzly and black bear chase each other across the mountain side. The warmth of the sun, the colors of the mountains, the clarity of the lake, the puffiness of the sky, the beauty of living nature–They all worked together to imprint the kind of memory in my brain that lasts. The kind that involves sights, moods, smells, feelings in a way that cultivates what I would consider a true experience. A moment when the world stops so I can take it all in.
We took the boats across two lakes, so we could hike to another lake. After the afternoon of beauty, we drove back to our campground. Ryan jumped into ice cold water and shrieked like a little girl. Somehow that made him seem more manly than the other guys watching from the rock. 
Sunday was more relaxing, and we hit the road before a huge storm rolled in. We found ourselves back in Seattle just before Monday rounded the corner.
We’re back to the grind, but with one more lasting, perfect memory in the storehouse of our life.

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