Going to the Sun Mountain – where bears and moths conspire.

 

Original Date: 8/18/24

I climbed Going to the Sun for the first time last season, and it will definitely be a staple for future visits. But since my son was doing the Red Bus gig last summer (and since we had one day off together), why not share a true gem with him?

I’ve documented this climb extensively in another post, so I will skip the ascent up through the forest and the horrible scree slopes that land you at the saddle between Matahpi and Going to the Sun. For many, the saddle itself would be a great hiking destination.

With only a thousand feet and some potential (choose wisely!) Class 4 cliffs between us and the summit, I thought we had it made. The weather was on our side. There was no real wind. There was no forest fire smoke. Yes!

The cluster of peaks that make up Logan Pass is set in the not-so-distant foreground. So many tourists crowded in such a concentrated area, but not at this elevation—at least not today.

Sexton Glacier is in the shade of Going to the Sun on the backside. Just a former shadow of itself since the closing of the last Ice Age, it continues to slowly grind until it melts away for good.

I recall when I tried to climb Matahpi from the Siyeh Pass trail. It was miserable and frustrating. It was like trying to teach a pig to sing—a lot of work for nothing. All you end up with is an annoyed pig.

Mitch took to the hills this season as though he had been doing this stuff his whole life. Of course, at the tender age of 22, he has a lot of life left and a lot to learn. Only the few and fortunate find their true love and passion at that age. I was only nineteen my first summer at Glacier.

All righty then! The sun is our friend, keeping the upper bowl and cliff bands that lead us to the summit nice and cool. I hate it when I’m climbing in the heat and squint the sunscreen into my eyes before 8 a.m. It makes for a long morning.

Less than 700 feet left. The approach is basic from here, and all the hard stuff is done. It’s time for some fun cliffs and a gradual, spectacular ridge walk to the summit.

But no. We find our bears directly on our route: a mother grizzly and THREE cubs. They were enjoying what was to be our high-elevation shade, busy flipping over boulders and feeding on the moths. I trust you know the story of the moths of Glacier Park and their role in the grizzly bear’s diet.

And that is it. Climb over. I’ve always been conservative when dealing with bears, especially those actively feeding. Sure, we could try to skirt high or cut low, but who knows where they will be on the descent?

We make our way back down to the GttS and Mataphi saddle. I had been hearing rockfall all morning and was expecting just mountain goats. The bears were clearly up there to harvest moths before the day heated up and started early like we did.

We spent some time at the saddle, hoping they might move on. But there was really only one way up and down this open slope. August is the prime moth season at Glacier Park. They could be eating here for weeks.

Mitch and I considered climbing Matahpi, away from the bears, but the problem was the same. I felt fine while their attention was on the moths, and we had a good line of sight. But what happens if they finish up and drop back into the forest before we do? It’s better to meet them in the open than in the trees, brush, and huckleberries.

There wasn’t much wind, so the saddle warmed and became comfortable quickly. And the views are there stellar. Of course, they would have been better another thousand feet up without anything to obstruct the view.

We took a little time to enjoy the geology of the Park. I try to squeeze as much as I can into my Red Bus Tours, but really, it’s a topic for the 1% (who, oddly enough, are way too nerdy and lack the social skills to tip). Of course, if I can see it irritates some people and I’m in a mood, I’ll talk for a half hour on the famed diorite sill.

Lichen is actually a living thing. Part moss and part algae. Although it comes in all shapes, colors, and sizes, mountain goats are very particular about the ones they lick. It must be that refined palate for which my namesake ungulates are known.

The bears are going nowhere. It’s time to lick our wounds and return to the valley floor. We crossed the path the four bears took during their ascent to the upper bowl. They overturned every 50-pound rock and dug out each grass clump. It looked like a bulldozer took a pass. Yeah, we did NOT want to meet them below the tree line.

Since the grizzly bears took from us, Mitch thought some quid pro quo was in order. So he took from them. While those bears were huffing and puffing a couple of thousand feet above us, moving hundred-pound boulders to get a handful of bugs, Mitch was harvesting their huckleberries in the valley below.

And once again, the balance of nature is restored. Clearly, look for a follow-up. GoatBoy shall return!