Cookies of the Gods

On my last day at Glacier, I made the long, lonely trek to the far northwest portion of the park, which led me through the North Fork town of Polebridge. To get there, you have to drive down a long unpaved road that leads you far away from any sign of civilization. I had heard of Polebridge from a few Montana friends who all just grin when they hear the town’s name, as if it were some inside secret that made everyone happy, so I was curious to check it out. Also, Anna was very insistent that the ride was worth the cookies I’d find there—and even more insistent that it would be wise for me to bring some back to her.

To call Polebridge a town is something of an overstatement. The main strip consists of a gravel lot with two buildings: the Northern Lights Saloon and the Polebridge Mercantile (also known as the Polebridge Bakery). Drive a few miles up the road and you’ll find the funky Polebridge hostel with a lawn full of tipis. The saloon was closed when I arrived, but I scoped out the Mercantile and found myself rummaging through shelves of food, housewares, t-shirts, wine, crafts, antiques and some of the most mouth-watering baked goods I’ve ever seen. Yeah, Anna was dead-on about the cookies.

The place definitely had character. I’m sorry to say it, but you really need to visit it yourself to understand. I enjoyed spending some time on the Merc’s porch watching hippies and old timers come and go. It would have been easy to spend the whole day doing so, but I had hiking to do.

My campsite that night was at Bowman Lake, another long stretch down another unpaved road, this one very windy and narrow. The trip was totally worth it. Even though this campground filled up, too, it was much more spacious and much less crowded than those at the center of the park. Far less tourists make the rough trek up here, and that left a huge blue lake all to myself and a handful of kayakers. I considered staying a second night, but I was actually getting a little tired of hiking around mountains and lakes every day. They were starting to seem less than incredible. Also, I needed to find a farm.


When I emerged from the mountains the next day, I stopped at a library in Columbia Falls to get online. Still no word from the farm I was seeking. I had been holding out for an organic apple orchard in Arlee, Montana, but was tired of sending emails and leaving phone messages with no response. I kicked myself for waiting so long and for putting all my eggs in one basket when I had no place to stay, then spent a couple hours at the library calling and emailing other farms in Montana. I figured that if I didn’t hear from any in the next day or so, then I’d start sending messages to farms in other states. That was my original plan—to keep moving and see new regions with every change—but I didn’t feel I was done with Montana yet.

I knew there was free camping at the reservoir near my last farm, so I decided that was as good a place as any to stay until I found my next host. I enjoyed two days of swimming and lounging by the water, often watching lightning in the distance, before I found an available farm—and it turned out to be the apple orchard I originally wanted! They called me at ten o’clock Saturday morning and by noon I was moving into a tipi on their property. An hour later, I was thinning apple trees.

Yep, I live in a tipi now. How cool is that?

Incidentally, Anna was ecstatic when I gave her a bag of Polebridge cookies. Watching someone eat those cookies is like watching someone become brainwashed with pleasure. I think she’s in my debt now. Wondering if I can get a car wash out of it…