July 26, 2026
I have wanted to ride the famous Going to the Sun Road for many years and finally arranged to do it in July. The riding was fantastic, the travel, eventful. I thought my direct flight from Newark to Kalispell, Montana at 8:30 in the morning would surely get off before the predicted afternoon thunderstorms. Alas, the travel gods had other plans, and the day did not go as expected. It started when I arrived at my reserved spot at a parking lot I have used many times before: “we’re full…but I have a reservation …doesn’t matter, we’re full.” Yikes, a Saturday morning in the summer. I drove around the airport and miraculously found another place to leave my car, more expensive than my reserved spot, but a relief to find. Arriving at the terminal, the United computer system was down, and my boarding pass had disappeared from my phone – sheesh. We somehow managed to board the flight and got in line on the tarmac, waiting for our turn to take off. Two hours later we headed back to the gate. Smoke from the Canadian fires and the approaching storms had severely restricted the NY area airspace. We were in for a long day. Several movies later, getting on and off the plane two more times, waiting on the tarmac for hours, getting a new flight crew, almost going home and cancelling the whole trip, we boarded the plane for the third time at 10:30pm. Countless flights had been cancelled, but ours was hanging in there, as were most of the passengers. There was really no other way to get to Kalispell, this was the only direct flight of the weekend, and the small airport was going to be closed for runway construction on Monday. I fell asleep immediately after returning to my familiar seat and woke up to the sound of everyone on the plane applauding as we accelerated down the runway. It was 11:30pm.
OK, this would be like flying to Europe. I can do that. Everyone on the flight was friendly after our 15-hour ordeal, and I had connected with a woman who was on my bike trip. She had cancelled her hotel reservation at some point during the day and now had nowhere to stay when we arrived. I offered to let her share my very expensive motel room. We arrived at 2:30am and Ubered to our hotel, falling into bed by 3:30ish mountain time. I had been texting with one of the guides for the trip all day, updating our uncertain plans. Her responses were not terribly encouraging. “Can we have a few more hours to sleep in the morning? – No, we have to pick you up at 6:30am,” grrrr. After two hours of sleep and a quick shower, we met the guides and the other folks on this Lizzard Head Cycling Tours trip. There were only seven of us: an older couple from Rochester riding ebikes, another single woman from Buffalo who had been on our flight, the woman who shared my room, also from NJ, and the Hull brothers, slightly younger than me, one a serious birder, and the other, Princeton class of ‘88. We had an orientation talk at the Whitefish Lake Lodge, then shuttled to Hungry Horse to fit our bikes and set off for our first ride.
The weather was beautiful, clear blue skies, warm and dry. I liked my road bike and loved riding towards the mountains of the National Park. We had a wonderful picnic lunch at a camp-ground on beautiful Lake McDonald. It was pleasant to chat with my new riding companions, but I was pretty jet lagged and didn’t have a lot of energy for social connection. On the ride after lunch, I was alone most of the way and a bit concerned about bear encounters. I sang and talked loudly and turned around a mile or so short of the end of the route and headed back to the hotel at Apgar Village. We were staying in lodges and hotels in the park, and they were charming and atmospheric even if they lacked some modern amenities. The first hotel was right on the gorgeous lake. I almost went swimming, but the water was cold and the stone bottom was slippery, so I just waded and enjoyed the view. The guides made a delicious dinner at the van. When I finally sat down and stopped moving, I realized how wrecked I was, but it was a great day. I’m so glad I didn’t cancel the trip!
The next day was the big ride up Going to the Sun Road. The guides prepared a wonderful breakfast of oatmeal and fruit at the van. We made sandwiches for lunch and packed snacks and bars for the climb. We set out at about 8am. The first 20 miles of the ride was along the lake with some easy rollers and gradual inclines. The Hulls were in front and while I couldn’t keep up with them, I kept catching them when they stopped. The big 10-mile climb started at mile 19. The weather was perfect, clear blue sky, dry and cool. I had slept enough the night before and had trained well in the weeks before. I felt good the whole way and the spectacular scenery carried me along. While it was certainly long and hard, it never felt impossible or daunting like Mount Ventoux last summer. I stopped frequently to take pictures and eat a bite. I kept seeing the Hulls, but not many other cyclists. There were lots of cars and vans and the goofy park shuttles on the road, and I had been instructed to stop and let them pass if there were more than four behind me. That was a bit nerve wracking, especially as I approached the summit, but the cars were careful and respectful for the most part. I met the Hulls at the top and we took pictures, ate snacks and walked around a bit before the exhilarating down-hill. We stayed together on the second part of the ride and enjoyed breaks for birding and lunch. We passed cars stopped by the road looking at bears. They were easily visible out in the meadows, but far enough away to be observed safely. At mile 47 we arrived at the St. Mary’s Visitors Center and relaxed with a beer at the van while we waited for the others. A spectacular ride! Eventually we shuttled to the Many Glacier Hotel, a grand old place in a Tyrolean style. The lederhosen clad bell hops brought our luggage up to the top floor – no elevator – and we eventually met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. The plans for the next day seemed vague. These two guides are definitely several notches below the level of guides on other bike trips I have been on. But today, at least, was awesome!
Day three we were supposed to ride across the border into Canada. Everywhere on the information about this trip it said in bold letters – make sure to bring your passport. We guests all had our passports. The two guides didn’t. What!!!???? They gave us the news at breakfast and explained various contingency plans. We did a short easy hike around the lake at the hotel in the morning, checked out, and then drove to the start of the ride. The weather was perfect, cool with a high hazy cloud cover. The first part of the ride was a nice climb on a beautiful, quiet road with a wide shoulder and good surface. The van met us for a snack stop at the top and then we had ten more miles to the Canadian border where we stopped for a picnic lunch. Then we unloaded all our luggage and walked across the border with our bags and our bikes, a strange site. An American guard came over to me as I was navigating the awkward crossing: “What’s going on here?… Our guides forgot their passports.” He made a face and went back into his office. The guides had arranged for someone to meet us on the Canadian side and take our bags to our hotel. But wait, as they were helping the women from NJ with her bags, the Canadian guards let them cross with just their drivers’ licenses. Really? Well, we’ll see what happens when they try to get back into the US! So they loaded all the bags back into the trailer and met us at the very elegant Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton. We had a lovely two days in Canada despite smokey skies. I declined the advertised 12-mile hike in the itinerary and opted for something a bit shorter up to Bertha Lake. Sue and Joe from Rochester chose that option as well and we had a great day together, enjoying beautiful wild -flowers, fun switchbacks, sparkling waterfalls and spectacular scenery even with the smoke. Back in town, we treated ourselves to dirty sodas, pie and ice cream, and then beer and munchies at a wonderful brewery. We had been relaxing for several hours when we saw the Hulls and Linda from Buffalo stagger by after the long hike. They joined us for beer and food and we all made our way back to the hotel together – 10 miles all together for me.
Not surprising that I didn’t sleep much after sugar, beer and fried food yesterday afternoon. The morning ride out to Red Rock Canyon was beautiful and fun and amazingly I felt good on the bike despite bad sleep and smokey air. The ride on the main road back to the US was not as fun, up a long and boring climb with no views due to the haze. We stopped for a picnic lunch at a hot pull off, still in Canada, and loaded all the bikes on the van. Fingers crossed, we approached the border. We all handed over our passports and the guards were friendly enough. When the guides said they didn’t have theirs, the mood turned serious. “No passport, no entry, pull over and step out of the vehicle.” Yikes. I turned to my biking companions: “does anyone know how to drive a van with a trailer attached and ten bikes on top?” We waited in tense silence. The guards searched the trailer, confiscated some fruits and vegetables, threatened to search all our luggage, didn’t, and eventually, maybe it was 10 or 15 minutes but seemed a lot longer, let the guides through. Good thing they were white instead of brown skinned with Hispanic or Arabic sounding names. We were all relieved but shaken as we drove to East Glacier and the Glacier Park Lodge.
The last day of the trip we did a spectacular out and back ride over a gorgeous pass to a fun bakery The ride was two thirds up and one third down on the way out, and the reverse on the way back. Only 24 miles but 2400 ft of climbing, that’s 100ft a mile, a lot, but fun and beautiful. We checked out of the hotel, still grand but a bit more tired and tattered than the others, and drove back to West Glacier for an afternoon river rafting trip. There were some fun rapids, but thankfully no one fell out of the boat, and the guide was very knowledgeable, entertaining and professional. The smoke had cleared and the weather was sunny and warm, though a bit hotter than they are used to here. We were starving by the time our guides made us a delicious late lunch at the van. They drove us back to civilization, picking up their passports which had finally arrived at a UPS store along the way. Back at my crummy motel in Kalispell, I said good-by to my new riding friends and gave the two guides their tip, even after their less than impressive service. They did work hard and got us back safely. My trip home the next day was smooth and uneventful. Dog and husband were fine and happy to see me. I’m so grateful I got to do this trip after all, and maybe I get some travel Karma points to use in the future.