An Epic Start to the PNT in Glacier National Park

Author’s Note: I’m actually writing this blog from the future! I finished my hike on August 29th, but am only now documenting my journey. Turns out, libraries are few and far between on the Pacific Northwest Trail, and their hours are even more elusive. 

Amtrak > Airplanes

Traveling from the west coast to Glacier National Park via Amtrak was a part of the journey I enjoyed much more than I anticipated! I’d imagined something like a slower version of an airplane, but was pleasantly surprised by the spaciousness of the seats, and freedom to move around the communal cars. I got a snack and exchanged stories with strangers. I watched the landscape whiz by out of the huge windows of the observation car, envisioning myself walking back that same distance over the coming weeks. The idea that it would take me months, while the train ride was only nineteen hours, was both exciting and daunting. Despite the majority of the trip being in the darkness of night, I could still see why it’s considered one of the most scenic rail routes in the country. 

Best train ride ever!

The train drops you off right in East Glacier, at what feels like the edge of civilization. The tourism-focused community there was just opening up for the season. The lack of foot and vehicle traffic only added to the pristine ambiance. I enthusiastically picked up a stylish hat from the general store, then ran off to find the hiker hostel down the road.

Everyone knowns bright colors repel grizzlies.

The cure for hiker imposter syndrome? Other hikers

The energy was more casual than I recalled from starting at Scout and Frodo’s on the PCT a few years prior. Most hikers here weren’t newbies- there was less nervousness, less machismo, and almost no talk of tent fabrics. A few people entertained the group with a betting game involving tossing cork balls into opponent’s shoes, while others make collective plans to hitch to the ranger’s station for permits. I lived vicariously through a woman who told me all about living in her van. I was among my people.

The owner of the hostel, Luna, gave me a hug and a can of bear spray. Her teenage son gave me a comedic yet informative tour of the place. 

The Pacific Northwest Trail starts at the same location as the northern terminus of the Continental Divide Trail, and shares track with the longer route for the first six miles. But aside from the starting point, my journey would be very different than my fellow hostel dwellers.

Permits and snow

In Glacier National Park, you have to reserve your campsites ahead of time through their permitting system. Dispersed camping isn’t allowed, so there are limited spots available. I had no issue getting a permit, while every other hiker was complaining about the relative “crowds” of the CDT, and frustrations with securing their own with reasonable daily mileage. Additionally, the CDT goes over multiple high mountain passes requiring snow gear in the park, while my route would take me over only one. While this seemed simpler on the surface, I had almost no information about the conditions on the pass. CDT-ers knew what to expect, as several hikers had already trudged through the snowpack a few days earlier. All I had to go on was a snowpack report from a mountain top of a similar elevation and location to the pass I would be attempting.

To add more uncertainty to my situation, I had relatively little snow experience to speak of. My micro spikes, originally purchased for my PCT thru hike two years ago, were still in their original packaging. Would I even know a dangerous snow situation if I was in it? Was I foolish for jumping into this journey so early in the season, and alone? The rangers who gave me my permit seemed to think so, as they double-checked my emergency contact information before sternly interrogating me about my gear. I tried to calm my nerves by reminding myself that scaring ill-prepared backpackers was part of their job.

I was the first PNT hiker of the season to stop at the hostel. And as far as I knew, the first on trail. I sheepishly added my name to the Class of 2024 poster Luna had directed everyone to sign, carefully drawing a little box in one corner, staking out those few square inches for PNT hikers. I heard rumors of another PNT hiker starting the same day as me, but chalked them up to folks thinking I was two different people after changing out of my PJ’s and braiding my hair.

Turns out, I would be far from alone on this first stretch. 

The next morning, as I joined a group to hitch to the starting point of both trails, I was enthusiastically greeted by a hiker named Giggles, who informed me she was also hiking the PNT. We compared backcountry permits, and found that we would be at the same campsite on our last night in the national park. It was a huge relief to find that I wasn’t the only person optimistic (or crazy) enough to be starting the Pacific Northwest Trail in the third week of June. 

The hitch to the starting point near the Chief Mountain border crossing was easy despite the low traffic early in the morning. I and two other hikers befuddled a car of tourists, who had clearly never heard of the concept of thru-hiking. We drove past the mountain that is the namesake for the border crossing. Distinctly blocky amongst its angular neighboring peaks, it’s no wonder Chief Mountain is sacred to the Blackfeet nation. 

Chief Mountain, originally called Nínaiistáko by the Blackfeet Nation

Time to actually start walking.

After some obligatory photos at the border crossing, it was time to do what I came out here to do. The first few miles shared with the CDT meandered through a scenic valley. It was probably a good thing I only had thirteen miles to my campsite for the night. I found myself stopping every couple of minutes to take pictures of the wildflowers, streams, and postcard-worthy mountain views that somehow became more majestic around every bend. 

 

 

Ooooohh!

Aaahhhh!

The only trouble was, most of the views were too big for my camera to capture. Even with the x0.5 zoom feature, I couldn’t angle back far enough to encapsulate the entirety of any one landscape. 

This photo would have been better in panorama mode…

Once off the CDT route, the trail became noticeably quieter. I left the beautiful valley to climb upward through a lush forest. The backcountry safety video still fresh in my mind, I began singing to myself and intermittently clack my poles together. As I was about to belt out another embarrassingly loud “Hey bear!”, I noticed someone catching up to me. He seemed to be on a mission, barely greeting me as I stepped aside to let him by. But my first-day adrenaline wasn’t about to let a stranger pass me by without some kind of exchange. I began job-walking to match his pace, and asked where he was headed. In an Aussie accent, I heard him mutter something about the Pacific Ocean. Another thru-hiker?!

His demeanor completely changed once he found out we were on the same journey. Not only that, but we discovered we had the same campsites for the first two nights in the park. Over the next few hours, I learned that his name was Nick, and he had an impressive hiking resume. He told me about his seasonal job that allowed him to take time for all sorts of outdoor adventures in the northern hemisphere. The miles flew by with fun conversations about differences in slang between our two countries, and the best burrito toppings. 

These campsites feel so fancy

As we passed backcountry campsites, I noticed how formal they felt. Each had it’s own little map, and every tent site and pit toilet I examined seemed so… well-maintained? It was a far cry from the dispersed sites I was used to on BLM and National Forest land I frequented back home. 

A backcountry directory

At camp, we met four young men on a cross-country trip celebrating their high school graduation together. Their spirits seemed dampened (excuse the pun!) by the rain they had been hiking through in the four days prior. I entertained the group by showing off my unpracticed bear hang skills. I’d wanted to practice before I was actually on trail, but the evergreen trees most common around my home in Oregon had angled, twiggy branches that did tolerate having ultralight cords thrown over them. But after only a few misses, I was able to get the string over the ten-foot-high pole provided in the campground. While I hoisted it as high as the pole would allow, Nick and I questioned if the set-up was actually far enough off the ground. But hey, this is a national park, right? If the pole were inadequate, tons of other backpackers would have already experienced bear troubles before us. I set up my tent in the spot I felt was furthest from the food preparation area, and willed myself not to think too much about it before drifting off. 

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Comments 1

  • FREDERICK SEAMAN : Sep 26th

    What is PNT????

    Reply

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