I was up and on my way at the usual time. I crossed back into Glacier just as the ranger was raising the flag, but only to half-mast, and I had to ask her why she’d done that. Oh yeah, it’s September 11th. I was kinda happy to have lost track of the date like that.

First trail of the day was to Iceberg Lake, a walk in the park (literally!) compared to the Highline from the day before. Good thing; my joints, especially my left knee, were achey. I hobbled along with the help of my poles. It’s 4.9 miles from the trailhead to the lake, just under 10 miles total.

That’s still a ways, mind you. I’m accustomed to distances as far as cars take them. Bear bell jangling, I made my way deep into the northern part of the park—this particular trail had been closed due to “bear frequenting” all the way up until the previous day, and the entire area to my right was still closed off. So I was scanning the area rather keenly.

I turned west into a mile-wide “cul-de-sac” formed by incredibly high cliffs. Iceberg Lake was at its base. It came as advertised.

The icebergs, which filled the lake, seemed to defy physics; it was a comfy 70 degrees, and I even stripped down to let my shirt dry out as I took pictures of them. The mountains above were just as amazing, rising almost vertically from across the lake.

I got a visit from my spirit-animal as I sat enjoying the sun and resting before the trip back. A two-foot marmot scampered out from under a nearby rock and waddled right up to my feet, paused for a moment to examine me—probably to see if I had any grub—and then casually wandered off into the bushes.

On the way back I had my first wildlife sighting that completely confused me. Suddenly in front of me were a pair of duck-sized birds looking kind of like chickens. Later I found out they were ptarmigans, of the grouse family. Huh.

I was back to the historic Many Glacier hotel by mid-afternoon for a boat tour up to the base of Grinnell Glacier. Fun fact: in the 1920s a stray bighorn sheep had climbed a snowbank, found itself on the roof of the hotel (snowbanks are big here), and crashed through the skylight into the lobby below. The sheep was dutifully stuffed and lives in the lobby to this day.

Anyway, about the boats. It was actually two consecutive tours, running the length of adjacent lakes up to near the base of Grinnell Glacier, which I’d looked down upon the day before. I realized how perfect my timing was, without even planning: both the boat tours and the hotel itself were closing down for the season on the following day.

Halfway up the second lake, a group of German tourists (I swear, they’re ALL Germans) starting shouting and pointing excitedly. On the nearest hill to our right, maybe 500 yards away, a mama grizzly and her two yearlings were coming down towards the water. I grabbed my telephoto lens and started snapping pics.

By the time we turned back toward the hotel, the bears had made their way down to the hiking trail along the edge of the lake. Then somebody noticed with alarm that there was a group of hikers headed their way! We were discussing whether to signal the hikers, and wondering if we were about to witness a vicious attack, when the bears moved back up the hillside of their own accord.

So that was cool, and a distance from which I was totally comfortable with seeing a mama grizzly.

Back at the hotel I sat at the bar, which had exactly two beers left to serve, one of which was “Huckle-Weizen.” (Don’t think I’ve said, they LOVE huckleberries at Glacier.) I chatted up the bar staff to the point that I got both a free huckle-weizen (not as bad as I feared) and an extra spinach dip that they were going to throw out. Bar staff don’t give a frak when it’s the last day of the season.

Back at my campsite in the twilight, a nearby camper plucked at a banjo, which would have been much more agreeable if the camper knew more than one song. Then suddenly without warning, out of a speaker somewhere, “Taps” began to play. I remembered for the second time all day that it was September 11th. Took a minute to reflect on the date, which (for those who don’t know) I’ve always marked defiantly with a “Terrorists Suck” party. Wrote up a separate blogpost about it. Then it was time for bed.