Glacier's Centennial Crowds Find a Changing Park

Living within Montana's Flathead Valley one becomes accustomed to always seeing Glacier's peaks as well as those of the Missions, the Swans and others. One never takes them for granted. The peaks form the backdrop for a person's life, a partial definition of who one becomes each day.

For visitors to the area, they inspire awe, or dread, or simple giddiness. For within the shadows of those various mountains, villages sprang up, populated with natives, miners, traders, ranchers, entrepreneurs, and adventurers. And now, a century later, Glacier National Park and the surrounding communities have taken their best clothes from the closet, their most imaginative ideas, and their pride and flaunted them all in the face of those who've been away too long or who've only arrived for the first time.

Antique car shows and tours color small town main streets and country roads with examples of by-gone transportation possibilities when visiting the park. Street festivals and cook-offs flavor the air above crowded venues while children run squealing between visitors, looking to experience something unique. An international horse show and competition sprinkles the cowboy arenas with high-born sophistication and majestic equine excellence.

Yet, within all of this celebration, the kudos for having made it this far, and anticipation of the next event, a downside presents itself to all. Crowded streets and roads lead to short tempers and minor collisions. Gawkers create road hazards for locals who only need to get to the store for more milk. Photo ops are everywhere as professional and amateur alike take continual advantage of the situation.

In Glacier Park itself, visitors experience even longer lines just to find a place to park along the side of the Going To The Sun Road. If one hasn't been there before, awe is the response to the scenery, even from those jaded by trips through the Alps. For those who've visited the park several times over a long span of time, shock and disappointment may color their now experience. The crowding is only part of the dismay for these intrepid frequent visitors.

Those sparkling ermine peaks so loved and remembered, now boast only pale wisps of their former glorious ice. Where walls of run-off water cascaded down mountainsides, mere trickles remain. Avalanches and rock slides ruined one entire section of the road two years ago. Crews are still rebuilding its integrity to keep it safe for visitors. The wildlife no longer keep their distance from humans and their vehicles but wander freely through the congestion, pausing occasionally to be photographed before moving on.

All except the bears, that is. During this centennial season, park officials and fish and game officers have had more necessary bear relocation incidents than ever before. One week shortly after the lower portion of the park opened, officials had to move eleven bears--both black and grizzly--to keep people safe. Bear alerts are at an all-time high due to sightings. A very wet, cold spring with many late snows was one theory for bears coming into towns well out of their ranges this early season. Food was scarce for them in the higher elevations.

Visitor numbers, though, are up, which means more business in the Flathead and more traffic going up-country. Regardless of personal expectations, the Glacier experience is one that seldom palls over time in a person's memory. One can always travel a different road to enter the park and its flanks. There are many roads to choose from. Discovery is part of the package, after all.

Time has marked the park and its environs. Peaks, streams, and lakes have changed, though that's a natural process, eons old, which will always drive nature's realm. Man's influence has only held sway for a nanoblink in time. In another hundred years everything natural to Glacier National Park and its Canadian Siamese twin, Waterton, will have changed again. If those of us living here now could return at that time, awe would be the only emotion allowed us.