Two Sides of the Same Glacier

I have an explanation for how MIA I have been the past week or so. And I promise that the things that have been keeping me from my computer and Caribou Coffee (my internet hotspot) will make up for it, once I get around to writing about them.

 First on the list, my trip to Montana with my family. Actually, it was more a trip to Canada, as I spent four of the five nights I was away on the other side of the border in Waterton. It’s a gorgeous place-- our hotel (it was actually more like a motel, charming in its rustic quaintness) was right on the lake, and nestled between huge mountains. One interesting thing about the town of Waterton: the native mule deer population has become so used to humans, so domesticated, that the town has to put up signs warning guests to watch out for their dogs—the deer might attack! I actually saw a man hand feeding one of these Rudolph look-alikes some baby carrots. I secretly was hoping for an assault by antler.

Another thing that surprised me about my visit to Canada was the seriousness and intensity of the border crossing process. I always figured that, being next-door neighbors, and amicable ones at that, I’d just shoot on in to Canada with a wave and a smile. Apparently, I’m a dope for thinking this way, and the border guard was quick to make sure I knew it. After yelling at us for not putting the “children” in the car with both parents, and not having our passports out and ready, he went on to aggressively ask us our purpose in Canada. If you’re ever in Canada, never answer that question with “visiting.” Clearly at the end of his rope with us, he snapped,  “Everyone’s visiting,” as if Canada is some sort of Mecca that the lowly traveler can only hope to taste for a short time.

Though Glacier National Park is an international Peace Park—meaning, its territory crosses national borders—and it’s terrain is, I’m sure, equally beautiful on both the US and Canadian sides, I have to say I liked the Montana part better. Maybe it’s because everything is more expensive in Canada. Or perhaps the strangely changeable and dreary weather in Waterton created this bias. More likely, it’s the not-quite-mean but not-quite-friendly service that seemed to follow me wherever I went while in Canada, and the stark contrast between it and the small-town friendliness of Hungry Horse, Montana.