What's come over me?

An armchair traveler and inveterate couch potato throughout my youth, I've been content to see much of the world through a windshield or hotel lobby. But something's happened in my dotage (I'm now 61): the past few years I've felt the need to put boots on the ground and get away from the crowds.

Last September my peripatetic pal Jordan Kramer (who's even more ancient at 71) and I made the rounds of Glacier National Park in Montana, where I had visited often but barely penetrated. Instead of just driving the Going To The Sun Road and hanging around our favorite hotel, this time we made a grand tour in eight or nine days, staying at every major park lodge plus the two remaining backcountry chalets. Boots, indeed.

Hugging the Canadian border in northwest Montana, Glacier is less visited than Yellowstone, Yosemite and the Grand Canyon, though it gives away nothing to them in beauty and scope. Glacier's 1,600 square miles, abundant with glaciated peaks, isolated lakes and sweeping valleys, may be a bit off the beaten path, but it's definitely worth the effort. And with more than 700 miles of trails, it's a hiker's dream.

Ours, too.

Not that we didn't pamper ourselves along the way.

Our first night was at Glacier Park Lodge in tiny East Glacier. Technically outside the park proper and just a hundred yards from the railroad station, Glacier Park Lodge was the flagship property built by the Northern Pacific Railroad in its initial quest for tourists almost 100 years ago.

My seat-of-the-pants assessment was that this was the most sedentary of the park's hotel crowds, not surprising given that no trails originated there.

When Glacier opened, the grand design was for this impressive lodge — with its huge, timbered lobby — to be the arrival point for rail passengers, and from there tourists would strike out for other points on horseback, stopping at a chain of chalets spread throughout the park. Far from spartan, these accommodations catered to a wealthy clientele.

GOING TO THE SUN

Over the years these backcountry chalets closed down one by one, save for the Sperry and Granite Park chalets. It's still possible to reach them by horseback, but now most visitors hike in, as Jordan and I planned.

First we explored the few places accessible by car.

There aren't many roads in Glacier — one of its charms — but the one they brag about is really something. That, of course, is the 50-mile Going To The Sun Road bisecting the park east to west. Other than that, it's slim pickings unless you're prepared to walk.

One small exception is the road to Two Medicine Lake in the park's southeast corner. Along the way there's a turnout for a short nature hike to Trick Falls, and at the end there's a marina and general store, plus one of the best sunrise views in the park.

The west side of the park doesn't offer much for the driver. Jordan and I explored some of the washboard gravel roads heading north toward the Canadian border from West Glacier but didn't find much. There are some good hiking trails but not much to be seen from a car.

Retracing our steps through West Glacier, we took the Going To The Sun Road as far as the Lake McDonald Lodge, where we had booked a cabin in anticipation of hiking to Sperry Chalet the next morning. Smaller than Glacier Park Lodge, McDonald is set against the lake and has decent amenities, but we were primed for a little more adventure. Unfortunately, our 4-mile tuneup walk to John's Lake didn't provide much, as it never strayed far from the highway.

We waited on the dock in vain for a colorful sunset but compensated with a nice meal in the dining room.

The Sperry trailhead is just across the highway from McDonald. After a big breakfast, we were off.

It's 6.6 miles and about five hours to the chalet on a tough trail that rises 3,200 feet. There's no honeymoon, either, with a 1,000-foot elevation gain in the first 1.8 miles. Aside from a few backward-looking views of the lake, most of the hike is through forest; peaceful enough, but after a while we craved a view of something other than trees. Not until the last mile or two did we break out of the canopy and catch a view of the chalet, located in a cirque beneath Edwards, Lincoln and Gunsight peaks.

AT SPERRY CHALET

Tired, we ambled — OK, staggered — into the dining room to register and get the orientation talk from one of seven or eight staff servicing a maximum of about 40 guests a night. It was clear that working at Sperry was a labor of love for these folks.

Aside from the dining room /kitchen building and the showerless outhouse annex, all solar powered, Sperry has no electricity. There's no lighting or heat or running water in the guest rooms. But otherwise there are amenities that count: linens and blankets on the beds, great food, and a view that won't quit.

After stowing our gear we climbed a mile to Lincoln Pass, another 500 feet above the chalet. The trail continued to Lake Ellen Wilson and Gunsight Pass, but dinner called. On the way back we bumped into a gathering of friendly mountain goats that seem to like Sperry, too.

It was a happy dinner crowd, and the staff set out place cards to encourage socializing. Jordan and I sat next to a retired Wisconsin farm couple who visit Glacier regularly and who gave us some good information about Granite Park Chalet, which we were to visit in a couple of days. After the staff cleaned up from dinner, everyone was invited back into the dining room for hot chocolate.

The hike back to Lake McDonald took only 3 1/2 hours, but it was tough on the feet. We were both happy to settle into the car for the drive east along the Going To The Sun Road, an amazing bit of engineering cutting across the entire park from West Glacier to St. Mary's, in many places seemingly just a toehold on the steep cliffs.

REACHING MANY GLACIER

Our destination was the park's largest hotel, the venerable Many Glacier, one of my favorite places in the world. Tucked away on Swiftcurrent Lake across from imposing Grinnell Point, about a dozen miles from the highway on Glacier's eastern flank, Many Glacier was built in 1915 by Norwegian carpenters. It's comfortable, with creaky plumbing and lots of rustic charm, and no hotel in the world has a more spectacular setting.

Lots of people ask me why I travel. For the most part I can't give them great answers — at least nothing beyond near-cliches about expanding horizons and testing new waters. But sometimes I find myself mesmerized — transfixed — in a moment when life seems to come to a full stop. I've had more than one such moment sitting on Many Glacier's balcony, watching the rising sun paint Grinnell Point with a palette of bronzes and golds. Just don't ask me — to use a phrase coined by my friend Tim Cahill — to commit philosophy by trying to explain further.

OVERCOMING SETBACKS

Early September is late in the season for Glacier. Even though the weather was perfect, clear and cool, the hotels were scheduled to shut down in a week and the park shuttles, as we discovered, had stopped running the day before. This was a problem because we needed to go 40 miles to Logan Pass the next morning to begin our hike to Granite Park Chalet. Leaving the car wouldn't do, as we were hiking directly back to Many Glacier. Fortunately, we were able to negotiate a ride with a young bellman planning a hike in the same area on his day off.

The Highline Trail covers about 7.6 miles between Logan Pass and Granite Park Lodge. It's one of the Park wonders, and we owned it that day. Mostly level, except for a 500-foot climb around a hill called the Haystack, it first traverses some pretty steep slopes far above the serpentine curves of the Going To The Sun Road. The day was strikingly clear, with unimpeded views stretching to Jackson Glacier and later to Lake McDonald and beyond

Lots more opportunities to commit philosophy.

This was a safe, easy hike out in the open, even though we narrowly missed a small rockslide at the beginning and passed through prime grizzly country near the chalet. Except for birds, the only wildlife we noticed were a distant herd of mountain goats feeding above us and a couple of curious yet shy marmots among the rocks — plus fewer than a dozen other hikers.

We were happy to finally see Granite Park Chalet on a hill in the distance. Knowing that the area had been the scene of the park's first fatal grizzly attack back in 1967, and, aware that there had been a near-fatal mauling on the Grinnell Glacier Trail just a few days earlier, we were pretty sensitive to our surroundings, making appropriate noise along the way. There were no bear signs, however, perhaps in part because of the year's poor huckleberry crop, with only remnants of the flaming crimson berry bush lining our path.

Though run by the same concessionaire, Granite Park and Sperry are quite different. With only two employees, Granite Park is smaller, and there are no amenities save bed linens and a cook-it-yourself kitchen in the main building. Guests are invited to pack in supplies, but most freeze-dried food items are for sale on the premises, as is bottled water. Access to the kitchen is by sign-up schedule.

Not deferring to age or fatigue, Jordan and I headed back to the trail for a 1.6-mile climb up to the Grinnell Glacier overlook. With a 900-foot gain to 7,600 feet, we took our time and were exhausted by the time we made it. The view was worth it, however, as we could see the entire glacier through a gap in the arret separating us from the neighboring valley. Calm as it had been below, the winds from the other side seemed concentrated at the overlook, funneling a stream of hapless bugs into our faces.

Our freeze-dried kung pao chicken and beef stroganoff tasted better than expected, but dinner lacked the sociability of Sperry. Not that folks were unfriendly; the cooking schedule just made it a more fragmented affair.

There was, however, one annoying family, mostly aloof except for a loudmouthed thirty-something brother in bright yellow hunting fatigues who couldn't resist getting in everyone's face to tell about the nasty virus he had been fighting for a couple of days.

It wasn't easy keeping that bear spray holstered.

TACKLING GRINNELL PASS

We watched the sun set and scanned nearby "Bear Valley" in vain; all we managed was the sound of a yelping coyote and the answering howling challenge of a wolf unwilling to share his territory. After dark, everyone gathered in the main building to hear about the great fire of 2003, which nearly consumed the chalet.

Up early, we dutifully consumed our freeze-dried packet of granola, blueberries and milk, amazed at how difficult it was to clean a spill off the stainless steel counter. No doubt it clung to our innards just as tenaciously.

We headed up the slope to Grinnell Pass, thankful that the sick guy from the previous night wasn't going our way.

The view from the pass, some 2,000 feet above the Bullhead Lakes and the valley leading back to Many Glacier, was impressive, and we were especially impressed with our decision not to take that route up to Granite Park. The steep, narrow trail afforded little more than three feet of footroom in places. The few climbers we met along the way earned our admiration.

As we relaxed on the shore of Upper Bullhead Lake we were joined by a ranger inquiring about possible bear signs. We had seen none, but he gave us details about the earlier mauling near Lake Josephine, not too far away.

Seems a father and daughter, who weren't making enough noise, had rounded a turn on the way to Grinnell Glacier and surprised a grizzly sow and cub. This is usually a bad idea, and the Mom's scolding left them with severe injuries. The consensus opinion, however, was that this was no predatory attack and that the bear was just doing her job, so they were allowed to roam free.

He noted that the same bears had been spotted just the day before on the trail to Iceberg Lake, which we would pass later that morning.

With heightened alertness we headed back toward Many Glacier, bear spray at the ready and making more noise than we might have. Most of this hike was through forest and high underbrush — perfect for a grizzly's daytime nap. After walking for hours we sat down to rest, wondering where the trailhead might be. When we asked a passing hiker how far, he laughed and said "about a block."

Our last two nights in the Park were again at Many Glacier. We took a couple of shorter hikes — to Hidden Lake Overlook and around Swiftcurrent and Jose-phine Lakes — but the long treks were behind us.

We never did run into those bears, which was mildly disappointing — to me, at least — but just a half mile from the hotel we came upon a recent deposit of bear scat, our first and only sign of their presence.

All told, we had walked about 45 miles, not bad for a couple of near-geezers.

What had come over us, indeed?