Glacier is Grizzly Country. We're constantly reminded of this by the warning signs posted on the side of the road that show a hulking bear with menacing teeth and claws that looks like he would like to eat us for a mid-afternoon snack.
We spot a bear—a black bear, not a grizzly—on the road to Many Glacier where we camp our second night, Sept. 6, in the national park. Before we see the bear, we see the line of cars stopped in the middle of the road, hazards flashing, binoculars out.
The bear sits on the mountainside and hides behind shrubs as more and more people crowd below. He eventually buries his head in the bushes, hiding from cameras, but pokes his head up and poses when Patrick snaps a photo.
It's cold and windy at Many Glacier, named for the glaciers on the surrounding mountains. It's also a hotspot for bighorn sheep, mountain goats and other wildlife, and we like the semi-secluded camp site, which backs into a meadow and climbs up the Rockies.
After pitching the tent, Patrick and Ophie head into the trees, but don't get too far before Patrick notices claw marks and fresh sap running down the side of the lodgepole pines, and Ophie starts growling, hackles raised, pointing towards the meadow just past the pines.
We abandon the tent and sleep in the truck.
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