Any time we told a local we were planning hikes they mentioned this tiny town on the other side of Glacier National Park called Polebridge, so yesterday we hopped in our white Chevy Traverse and started the drive. Montana R said it was about an hour and fifteen minutes.
About an hour and fifteen minutes after we started driving we came to a split in our dirt road and a sign that pointed to Canada one way and Glacier National Park the other way. After several moments of map consultation we determined Polebridge lay in the direction of Canada and gunned the Chevy north.
Eventually we reached Home Ranch Bottoms, a tiny store on the side of our dirt road that sold $2 beer and advertized free internet. It turned out Home Ranch Bottoms had no electricity, so I’m not sure how the free internet would have worked, but we chatted with the man working there and affirmed our motion was in the right direction before hopping back in the car yet again.
We bounced along our dirt road for fifteen more minutes before we reached Polebridge – not what I expected. Everyone told us about the amazing bakeries (note the plural) in Polebridge, so I imagined it to be one of those small towns with one central road that sported a few bakeries and some coffee houses.
In fact, Polebridge consists of a sign that says “Welcome to Polebridge”, the “Polebridge Mercantile” (the Merc), and a few cabins behind the Merc. There is not even a central street – the Merc sits beside the “highway”, aka the dirt road on which we drove in.
On the other hand, the cookies and breads at the Merc taste delightful. Upon returning to Whitefish I found myself recommending Polebridge’s “baked goods” (it sounded better in my mind than “single store that happens to produce awesome cookies and breads”). We stopped by the Merc after our hike, somewhat apprehensive, but knowing we could not leave Polebridge without at least trying one baked item. When we walked in a tray of cookies just out of the oven plopped on the counter in front of us and we received a paper plate with three on it, chocolate chips melting everywhere. I bake a lot of cookies but I have never made or tasted anything better than that Polebridge treat.
Our hike in Glacier National Park near Polebridge was uneventful. We ended up with less time than expected since it took us two hours to get there and we just trekked around Bowman Lake for a while, stopping to snack on granola or nectarines when we found a particularly beautiful spot. I took pictures every few steps and the Judge tried to help me with composition, the only part of photography I can really control with my current digital camera (it’s an awesome camera, just like Bruce is an awesome car, but as neither has a manual option you kind of just have to take what they decide upon). By my calculations we hiked about 8 miles on flat ground, but compared to the exertions of previous days it felt as if we’d barely exercised. That’s a weird feeling.
After Polebridge we cleaned up and made our way into Whitefish to meet BG and go to the farmer’s market. As the type of person who could spend every day at a farmer’s market I regretted “attending” one with SB and the Judge, who would rather spend an evening in a pub drinking Going to the Sun (their favorite Montana brew). I convinced them to hang around the market for long enough to purchase two baskets of cherry tomatoes and some huckleberry jam to send AW’s parents, then we retreated to the Black Star Brewing Company and stood on the balcony with our beers listening to the music from the market.
At times like that I think I could move to Montana, but the East in me always brings the wanderer to its senses.
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