Journal Entry | Montana, Day 4 — August 2025

We are making our way along the North Circle Loop in Glacier National Park. We opted to tackle the route in five days, which, in hindsight, may have been slightly ambitious. Every day has ended up longer than originally planned for one reason or another: construction delays near the trailhead, slow mornings, side quests we absolutely did not need to take, blisters, and most notably, the truly treacherous sixteen mile Day Two. If anyone ever reads this and plans to hike the loop, let me be the first to strongly recommend breaking up Elizabeth Lake Foot to Stoney Indian. Once you begin cresting the passes, signage becomes sparse, the terrain grows increasingly remote, and every summit tricks you into believing it has to be the last one. It never is.

Last night we arrived at Fifty Mountain Campground which may genuinely be my favorite campsite I have ever stayed at. After climbing all day, the trail suddenly opens into what feels like an endless alpine meadow, a tiny winding path cutting through it while mountain ranges surround you in every direction. It feels less like a campsite and more like standing inside a painting.

While making dinner, a few different groups rolled into camp discussing bears. Specifically, grizzly bears. Up until now we had only seen a black bear across a river, and the topic of grizzlies had become somewhat contentious between Emily and me. On one hand, I desperately wanted to see one. On the other, I worried it might completely send Emily into a panic spiral. We had come so far already that I started wondering if it would even be worth it.

One group, who also generously shared homemade venison jerky with us, mentioned hearing about a grizzly nearby though they had not actually seen it. Another solo traveler told a story about accidentally coming face to face with one on trail. Back at Stoney Indian we had made friends with another solo hiker, David, who happened to also be staying at Fifty Mountain, so we decided to hike together the next morning.

Unsure what the day would bring, we packed up early and hit the trail: me, Emily, and David. The weather was an absolute gift. Partial cloud cover and light passing rain showers gave us a much needed break from the relentless direct sun we had spent the last three days baking under. David taught us how to spot huckleberries and we ate so many throughout the day our hands turned purple. Most of the trail followed exposed ridgelines with very little elevation gain, just endless panoramic views and marmots everywhere. Truly everywhere.

We even took a side quest up to the overlook above Elizabeth Lake near Ptarmigan Pass, a fitting detour near the end of the trip that allowed us to look back toward where this entire journey had begun.

A little while later, we stopped at a viewpoint for a snack break. Emily, who has somehow spotted nearly every piece of wildlife on this trip before anyone else, suddenly perked up and excitedly pointed toward what she thought was a moose. Within seconds we realized it was not a moose at all, but an enormous male grizzly bear jogging directly toward us.

We packed up at lightning speed and moved down trail, eventually crossing paths with him maybe fifty yards away. The bear paused briefly to watch us before continuing on his way. I was ecstatic. David was thrilled. Emily was mostly okay. We had done it. We got our perfectly safe bear encounter from a distance. Everybody wins.

Or so we thought.

Fueled almost entirely by adrenaline, we continued the remaining miles toward Granite Park Chalet where Emily and I planned to spend the night while David continued hiking out. The actual backcountry campground sits about half a mile downhill from the chalet itself, but we had heard rumors of potable water and snacks for purchase, which at this stage of the trip sounded borderline luxurious. We dropped our packs at camp, swapped hiking boots for Tevas, grabbed dinner, and headed uphill to investigate.

On the way, we passed two women who asked if we had seen “the bear.” We proudly said yes, earlier that afternoon. They immediately followed up with, “Did you see the babies?”

Babies?

Apparently there was another bear in the area. A mother grizzly with cubs.

Fantastic.

We reached the chalet, which looked incredibly charming perched high along the mountainside. There was a tiny camp store with snacks and merch and people sitting outside eating dinner. Fog began rolling in slowly and dramatically around the peaks. Then we heard screaming in the distance. Full panic. Turns out it was just a father and son fighting, but at this point everyone’s nerves were already fried.

Exhausted, emotionally drained, and deeply creeped out by the increasingly foggy atmosphere, I wandered inside to ask if there happened to be any room available at the chalet.

By some miracle: one room left.

The staff told us to hurry back down, pack up camp before dark, and return quickly. They would hold the room for us. They also casually mentioned there would be a bear safety talk at 7PM led by the park’s bear management team because of “some recent mama bear activity.”

And this is where the day officially descended into chaos.

As Emily and I walked back toward the campground, a man in full tactical gear came sprinting toward us carrying what looked alarmingly like a bow and arrow. We later learned this was “Bear Man Steve.”

“Everything okay?” I asked as he ran by.

“Yep, all good, just tracking a bear,” he shouted without slowing down.

Emily froze.

“We’re headed to the campground… is that okay?”

“Yep! Sorry, really gotta go!”

He disappeared uphill.

Less than two minutes later, we rounded a corner into an open clearing and suddenly heard Steve screaming from somewhere high above us:

“EVERYBODY MAKE NOISE, SHE’S COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN!”

Every group on trail immediately started yelling “HEY BEAR!” into the fog while crashing sounds echoed through the trees. Emily fully collapsed onto the ground clutching my legs. Moments later Bear Man Steve burst out of the woods asking if we had seen her.

No, Steve. We had not.

Seeing Emily completely distraught, Steve assured us we were safe and radioed his partner, Hank, to escort us down to the campground and then back up to the chalet.

Bear Man Hank arrived carrying a shotgun.

This somehow did not improve morale.

So there we were: Bear Man Hank, Bear Man Steve, me, and Emily crying directly into my backpack while we speed walked through grizzly territory. As we approached the campground entrance, Hank stopped, cocked the shotgun, scanned the woods like Elmer Fudd hunting Bugs Bunny, and then motioned for us to continue.

Still no actual bears, by the way.

It had begun drizzling as Emily and I frantically packed our campsite in Tevas and socks, achieving what was unquestionably the fastest campsite breakdown of our entire lives. We were packed in under two minutes flat.

The rangers decided to take us back to the chalet via the long route, adding another mile onto the day while they continued patrolling for the mother bear and cubs. Somewhere along the walk we learned Bear Man Steve and Bear Man Hank were both around our age, which somehow made the entire situation even more absurd.

We made it back just in time for the bear talk.

After finally checking into our tiny room and apologizing profusely to everyone for our general level of panic, Emily and I collapsed into bed. By the time the adrenaline wore off and we fully processed what had happened, it was nearly 11PM.

Naturally, that is when we both realized we had to use the bathroom.

The outhouse sat about fifty feet away from the room, hidden inside fog so thick you could barely see ten feet ahead. So out we went in pajamas, Tevas, socks, headlamps, and bear spray.

I immediately realized I forgot toilet paper and turned to go back inside.

The door was locked.

We had locked ourselves out.

Outside.

On top of a mountain.

In dense fog.

In active grizzly territory.

So naturally we walked back to the main lodge praying it was still open. It was completely dark inside. After wandering around for several minutes, a deeply startled staff member finally emerged. We explained the situation, and he informed us that in his ten years working there this had literally never happened.

“This place is so old nobody’s gonna get you up here,” he said. “Don’t lock the doors.”

Ten minutes later we were finally back inside the room where we immediately passed out harder than either of us ever have in our entire lives.

What. A. Day.