Just after dinner and moments before dark, Taylor cast into the Bitterroot right near our camp, and he quickly caught a rainbow trout. I netted it, photographed it, and he tossed it back. No time for s'mores last night--the pillows were calling our names.
We woke earlier than the day before, hustled to prepare coffee, breakfast, and then Taylor darted for the river. I cleaned up camp and have been obsessed with my book, so time alone is welcomed. Once Taylor returned, we put the pedal to the metal and jetted back to Missoula for a late-morning run.
We wanted to climb Mt. Sentinel to the giant "M" above the university. We started downtown, and by the time we'd (I'd) made it around several switchbacks, I was beat. We climbed much higher than the actual "M" and visions of our South Sister climb flashed back. Once we finished, we hit the Kettlehouse for a local beer and some insider info on Glacier, then we got back in the car and headed north.
The drive to Glacier is gorgeous, but so far in Montana, I haven't been disappointed with any of the views. Once we made it up to Bigfork, we decided to camp for the night, at a state park called Wayfarers. These state parks are swanky, I tell you. Bathrooms, showers, and great access points to Flathead Lake. What a sight! The largest natural freshwater lake in the west. I see what they mean when they say Montana is the last best place. It's breathtaking. Literally.
As soon as we set up camp--again we scored with a somewhat secluded spot--we jumped into the ice-cold lake. Following our dip, we drove through the historic downtown of Bigfork, which is drawn straight out of an old movie or novel. It couldn't have been more picturesque, with its patriotic bunting and banners hanging from the two-story mercantile and all the cafes.
Our evening consisted of another gourmet campfire dinner, wine, and watching the sun set over Flathead Lake. though it's getting chilly back at camp, the sun is still burning bright as it descends in the west. Both of us sit here wishing we had our swimsuits on like the many other folks who continue to jump from the boulder-lined beach well after 9 p.m. This is a summer night if I ever saw one.
