Still digesting the previous night’s experience we got packed up and in the meantime met Alexander the bilingual 2 yr old. We made tentative plans to see Lisa and Michiel again when we passed through Oregon. Wayne the Australian owner of the Hostel had given us directions to Glacier that were more scenic than the interstate. (I love two lane highways. Much more to see.) His directions included a stop at a diner in Avon, MT for a huckleberry milkshake. Huckleberries are kind of a thing in Montana. We said so long and headed for the milkshake.
The drive was beautiful. The milkshake was great. But the thing that stands out was how nice the people who made the milkshake were. The kind of people that are so genuinely nice that it rubs off on you and changes your day. I think part of it is that I am out of the city, away from everything and just able to enjoy great things that happen. It sounds corny, but I have no other explanation. Shelby and I are sickeningly happy.
Glacier was beautiful and huge. We camped on the west side of the park and because the road was closed due to snow 16 miles in we wouldn’t get to see the east side unless we went all the way around the park. That would have been 3 hours of driving. We decided we had plenty to see on the west side. 
We camped for two nights next to Lake McDonald. It was nice not to have to take down our tent and pack up, if only for one morning.
We went on a two hour trail ride on horseback and got to see a lot of cool stuff in the park. The wranglers (tour guides) were nice, but talked a lot. I was the last in line, with only the tail end wrangler behind me.
I ended up asking him a lot of personal questions so he wasn’t necessarily giving the historical or natural talking points I’m sure he was trained to give. He did spend a lot of time talking about his former rodeo days and his college and running from a mountain lion.
That morning I had decided to make bean soup for dinner, so I was started soaking the beans before we left for the horse ride. When we got back Shelby read the instructions and discovered it took 4 hours to cook. I had not read that far. I didn’t think we had 4 hours worth of propane, but I was determined to make the soup. So I built a fire and started boiling the beans. We made quesadillas as an appetizer, (which was actually pretty filling) and kept cooking the beans. We made s’mores. And kept cooking the beans. Shelby went to bed. And I kept cooking the beans. I added the last piece of wood to the fire and I decided to add the other ingredients for the final hour of cooking. I waited about half an hour and ate one serving. It was pretty good, but not worth 4 hours of labor. I would say that it was nothing to write home about here I am writing home about it. For some unknown reason, I saved the rest in a plastic container. (A few days later I would dump it out on the side of the road. The trunk of a car is no place to keep leftovers.)
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