[Day 117] Highline Trail to Goat Haunt

Today is my last full day of hiking in my continuous footpath from Mexico to Canada. And, it may arguably be one of my most memorable days on the trail.

Out of Many Glacier, I started up to Swiftcurrent Pass. The climb was yet another invigorating, long, well graded ascent with excellent views. Coming down the backside of Swiftcurrent Pass, I noticed an old building, the Granite Park Chalet — a 100 year old bunkhouse along Glacier’s Highline Trail. The stay was $140 a night for a bunk without showers or meals; it’s a stay for those ritzy, unaccustomed, entry-level backpackers who want to see the park. Everything is pack it in, pack it out. I stopped by anyway to meet Crocs and Jibz, a couple who did the CDT back in 2021 and have both completed numerous other trails. Crocs gave me some tips on the AT, should I make a go for a southbound hike this September. They were happy to have a hiker in their presence; I’m sure a bit envious of my journey. The beauty of Glacier is what brought them back to run the Granite Park Chalet. After a hot chocolate graciously provided by Crocs, I was back on the road to make the remaining 24 miles on the day.

By now, the CDT was merged with the Highline Trail in Glacier and the trail rolled its way alongside the glacier-carved mountains, traversing in and out of the head of the valleys. Trail crossed a springing waterfall right out the side of the mountain. The water has that slight milky, mineral tint descriptive of glacier water. I drank unfiltered and untreated. I made the walk up the hill to see how this volume of water was springing straight out of the hillside; I’d have to imagine it’s following some caverns that trace to the northeast-facing side of the mountain where the glaciers sit. A few miles down the way, I detoured to the Sue Lake Observation for one of the most stellar views of the trail.

As I started down from Sue Lake Observation, my gut turned sour. Sustained cramping assaulted my abdomen. I have a gut bug from that bad water I drank at Summit Campground — I know it. It’s been five days since I drank considerable amounts of that water; my digestion is bizarre and I’ve jumped from one to four considerable bathroom breaks a day. Undoubtedly, my high sugar diet has only accelerated this festering giardiasis.

The cramping was so bad, I had to suspend every half mile to combat surmounting hot flashes. My engine was overheating. I’d unstrap my backpack and do some downward dog yoga positions (and whatever else I could come up with) to relieve the pressure in my gut and release my abdomen muscles. Then, I’d hike on with the tumbling mixture of remedies (baking soda, imodium, ibuprofen) and sugar (Red Vines, M&M’s, 3 Musketeers) in my stomach. Once I was moving downhill, I ridded of my overheating issues and my stomach cramps slowly subsided.

This was it. I was on my descent down Waterton Valley to the lake where I’d meet the United States-Canada border. It was a pleasant, but slightly overgrown jaunt down to Goat Haunt. At the south end of Waterton Lake sits a port of entry and accompanying ranger station for the Waterton-Glacier Peace Park. It’s an interesting place for a port of entry, especially considering you have to hike out of Waterton Lake over 20 miles to the nearest road or semblance of civilization on the United States side. There were some other occupied residencies around the area, and I wasn’t quite sure the purpose. I had heard of some environmental studies taking place on Waterton, so maybe these are scientists at work.

At the ferry boat landing, three-walled hiker shelters provided a roofed designated campsite. I’ll admit — these were a bit awkward. I’m not accustom such shelters, but I better get comfortable if I plan to do the AT. After dinner, I laid out my sleep mat on the concrete pad and called it camp. The Goat Haunt Shelters came with plumbed bathrooms with electrical outlets and a pavilion explaining the meaning of “peace.”

I took a moment on the dock, as the American flag fluttered with distinctive slaps in the wind. I am not one to dramatize or even celebrate endings, but nostalgic reminiscing of all the American backcountry I had walked came on unavoidably. I am fortunate for my opportunity and for a country where public lands and freedoms exist for such an endeavor.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)