Old dudes named Pete Beaverhead,  Earl Old Person, Chief Little Dog, Curly Bear, and Louie Adams spin tales of their proud ancestry inhabiting this side of Glacier for thousands of years. They represent the Salish, Pend d'Oreille and Kootenai natives that comprise the Blackfeet Nation and still dispute the 1855 Hellgate Treaty as a white man ruse to steal this pristine wilderness.

I was surprised that the visitor center with friendly park rangers reserved a corner of their building for what amounts to an Indian protest exhibit next to the gift shop.  It was moving to read that the Blackfeet lament that they "only sold the rocks" to the government and that they will outlive the capitalists.  It's going to be a long time coming the way the stuffed animal and poster sales were going today. Isn't it odd that we are now selling trinkets to ourselves?

We took a ride to the top of Logan Pass and skipped hiking. There was a torrential downpour all day. Felix was glad we had thunderstorms because he says the bugs are eating him alive when we march through the woods.  By that, he means that he has two mosquito bites.

My son still took the time to do the absurd minimum to become a Junior Park Ranger. He's certified in three parks now, but if you asked him for a tour you'd be hard pressed to get past the snack shops and trinket dispensaries.

After a hearty lunch of pie at the Park Cafe, we holed up in our tiny cabin for most of the day and night. The thunder clapped and once again, I was forever thankful to our Lord for the divine gifts of iPads, Kindles and coloring books. Without them, I think we'd have a cannibal mutiny on our hands.