Today was moving day – from Fish Creek on the west side of Glacier NP to St. Mary – Glacier Park KOA on the east side. Easy drive. Ninety nine point six miles, a stop in Browning for fuel and groceries and boosh, we land at a full hook-up RV park.

But things don’t go smoothly when you’re on the road.

We got an early start and, with nothing to disconnect from at the Fish Creek Campground, got out fast. It was surprisingly hard to say goodbye to our no water, no electricity, monsoon-like campground, but the tranquility of the site, with us all huddled up in sweaters and wool socks under blankets and stocking caps with a moody gray surrounding us, was very nice.

As with Crater Lake, diesel fuel was difficult to find near the park but we figured we’d be okay in Browning, MT. Near Essex, along Route 2 under Scalplock Mountain, I pulled over to let a long line of cars behind me pass by (I’ve always found it extremely frustrating to sit behind a slow-moving RV on mountain roads so now try to be respectful of other drivers behind me). After they zipped past and as we were pulling back onto the road, a large female moose galloped across in front with a slight glance back at us and disappeared into the woods.

We stopped at East Glacier Park to grab lunch, an awful one, at the Glacier Village Café. Awful. I mean, really.

The town of Browning, the main community for the Blackfeet Nation, is located on the high plains about thirty miles east of the park. The drive in is rather beautiful as mountains turn to foothills then to rolling grasslands. But Browning is poor, with nearly a third of its thousand-plus residents below the poverty line. It is dusty and dirty, there were many stray dogs and feral packs running around, lots of buildings in disrepair and closed businesses. It stands contrasted to the tourism-boosted towns and villages we’ve passed through on much of the trip. It was a place, a real place – no t-shirt souvenirs, no stickers or postcards or shot glasses with logos, no “Ye Olde” or “Shoppe.” It was a place where regular people set up a temporary “garage sale” on the grocery parking lot near the main road.

From there we headed back northeast toward the town of St. Mary, and within five miles the road commenced a slow, meandering rise back up into the mountains. We wrapped through grassy valleys and groves of water birch, past the burned-out remains of the Red Eagle Fire from 2006, until we descended into the little town of St. Mary.

Across the river and on a low hill above Saint Mary Lake is the KOA campground. Our site was at the back edge of the property along the fence on the north. It was also newly built – fresh (dried out) sod, dirt plot, dusty, etc. It was a fantastic location in terms of mountain views, proximity to the park entrance and the start of the “Going-to-the-Sun Road,” and in offering general amenities such as water, electricity and propane refueling. It was also expensive and not very good at service delivery. It was simply a place where marketing out-runs execution.

As soon as we arrived, Asher made a new friend. And so did Timber.