Wild Minds Wander

Yesterday brought a day of unexpected twists and significant challenges, truly testing my limits. While there were moments where the weight of it all brought tears, I’m finding strength in the necessary pivots and trying to embrace the lessons learned.

We left our absolutely beautiful campsite in Flathead Lake, Montana, yesterday morning, and I just wished we could have lingered there, where everything felt so peaceful and the weather was cooperative. Our sights were set on Glacier National Park, full of optimism and a deep longing to finally experience it.

Glacier’s Grandeur & A Forced Detour

Upon arrival, signs warned that the Going-to-the-Sun Road would close at 8 PM due to a forecast of two feet of snow. We were eager to experience as much as we could before the closure. At first, it was just sprinkling, and we managed to get out at a couple of breathtaking lookouts. The parts of Glacier we did get to see were truly awe-inspiring, and I’m holding onto the hope that I can return in the future to see it in its full glory.

Our first challenge came with finding parking for the hikes we’d hoped to do. It was incredibly busy, a testament to the park’s popularity, but it meant we drove around for thirty frustrating minutes before having to let go of those plans. As we climbed higher, the weather turned, and heavy fog obscured the views. The Going-to-the-Sun Road, being quite narrow, presented another test. While maneuvering to give another SUV space, I clipped a rock wall, damaging the van’s running board. It was a stark reminder of adapting to a new vehicle and added an unexpected layer of stress to the drive.

After making it down the mountain, we checked out our booked campground. It was downpouring relentlessly. Given the forecast of continued heavy rain and six inches of snow at our site, and with the main road closing, our initial plans for three nights of hiking became impossible. We would have been confined to the tent or van for days, with only two very short trails accessible. I had booked these sites months ago, securing the last availability, and seeing many empty sites now offered a tiny bit of comfort as we sat in the visitor center parking lot, grappling with a very difficult decision.

This unexpected turn with Glacier was a deep disappointment for me, especially as it was one of the experiences I was most looking forward to on this trip. To have it slip away felt like a profound loss.

The Painful Pivot & A Long, Soaked Drive
The boys weren’t too upset about leaving, but Harvey was understandably gutted to learn we’d have another 2.5 hours in the car to reach an affordable hotel. So, after much deliberation and some emotional moments, we made the brave choice to head north towards Canada. I drove those 2.5 hours through pouring rain, windshield wipers on full blast, utterly focused on getting us to a new safe haven.

Adding to the day’s adventure, my phone decided not to work once we crossed into Canada! A quick stop at McDonald’s for dinner and Wi-Fi allowed me to book our next hotel. We finally rolled into a basic Super 8 in High River, Alberta, Canada, at 9 PM. It was a 12-hour driving day, pushing our total car time to over 28 hours in just five days! That’s quite a feat for little ones (and me!).

Hitting a Breaking Point (and My Kids Holding Me Up)
I had several moments yesterday where the emotional strain simply became too much. I arrived at the hotel and immediately just broke down crying. After stepping into the bathroom, the tears came again. Lying in bed, I had a panic attack, and in an incredibly powerful moment, Calvin lay down next to me and gently talked me through it, reminding me to breathe. This trip wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was meant to be life-changing, soul-altering. I’m lying here in this hotel bed, feeling utterly defeated and more disconnected than ever. This journey was supposed to be all about immersing ourselves in nature, and instead, here we are.

Calvin is still navigating his own struggles, and this unpredictable pace is proving incredibly challenging for him. He is overstimulated and feels quite lost in his brain right now. It breaks my heart to see Calvin struggling so much, and it’s so hard for him. I just want to hold him close and tell him everything is going to be okay, but yesterday he was the one holding me and reassuring me. Theo, meanwhile, is still just Theo, with his own unique way of being.

When we woke up yesterday morning, I felt this fleeting sense of peace, a quiet hope that everything would be okay, but within forty-five minutes, it vanished. Harvey was in tears about his back from the day before, barely able to walk. Theo took a hard fall at Walmart, holding his shoulder, and for a moment, I feared he’d broken something. Yesterday truly felt like one thing after another, relentlessly testing every ounce of my energy. I’m deeply tired and stretched thin.

Unexpected Support & A Forced Pause
After our significant disappointment with Glacier yesterday and all our plans being completely thrown off, I had several people reach out to me. They shared that their own experiences with Glacier often involved similar extreme weather or wildfire smoke, which, while still sad, did help me put our situation into a broader perspective.
We have decided to take today as a much-needed rest day after the intense 12 hours in the car yesterday and 28 hours over the last five days.

We spent three joyful hours soaking in the hotel pool this morning, letting the boys burn off some energy. Now, we’re cozy in bed, watching Matilda and enjoying some door-dashed lunch. The rain outside is extreme – not just sprinkling, but blowing sideways and feeling like ice, making outdoor play impossible. Just the other day, I wrote about how excited I was to finally be immersed in nature, and then this happened. It highlights how quickly plans can change, and the need to pivot.

Looking Ahead: Embracing the Journey
We’ll be here in this basic Super 8 for one more night, and then I’m looking forward to embracing the next leg of our journey. Despite the current conditions, I’ve been constantly checking the Parks Canada website, holding onto hope for a cancellation at a Lake Louise campground. We’re now planning to try and head up there two nights early if a spot opens, even though it’s currently snowing there!

My perspective has definitely shifted; I’m choosing to stay positive and focus on the exciting possibilities ahead, even when they come with a dusting of snow. The upcoming week still shows rain for Banff, but it’s projected to be intermittent showers, a welcome change from yesterday and today’s relentless downpour and snow. This journey is certainly throwing a lot our way, but I know it has to get better.
I’m pulling myself together, focusing on my amazing boys, and ready to tackle whatever comes next.