Ups and downs on the Highline

My family is visiting me this week.

Wait. Let me rephrase that.

My family is staying with me in my cramped apartment because they couldn't find any hotels within a 100-mile radius this week.

Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad thing. It's just a little tight at my place right now.

It's kind of like taking five people and trying to squeeze them into a telephone booth, and having them eat, sleep and watch television in there.

Actually, that's exactly what it's like, minus any wiggle room.

This weekend, I took them up to Glacier for the first time, just to show them some of the outdoors and prevent any uncomfortable apartment-related incidents.

My dad, who has an unhealthy man-crush on the Grand Tetons, has always wanted to visit Glacier.

Now that his only son lives within hitchhiking distance, he's absolutely thrilled about coming here on vacation for years to come. I'm pretty sure he booked this trip out here the day I left home, actually.

The first stop on the tour of Glacier was, predictably, Logan Pass. I thought we could walk the Highline Trail for a bit, look around and maybe catch a glimpse of an animal or two.

I knew my mom, who nearly ripped off her toe in a horrifying flip-flop accident about a month ago (don't ask), wouldn't be able to walk too far, so we planned on just walking until she couldn't go any longer and then turn around.

That is, if one of us didn't have an accident first.

Right after we started, I saw a string of bighorn sheep take to the ridgeline overhead. I pointed them out and my parents said something about how amazing it was they could survive up there.

I heard the sheep knock some loose rocks off the ledges and as I watched the rubble tumble to the ground, I thought to myself, "you know, someone could get hurt with those animals up there."

A little ways up the trail, as I stepped aside to let a family pass, a rock the size of a softball fell about five feet away from smashing my skull, a nice gift from the sheep above.

"That rock almost hit that guy in the head," this terrified kid said to his mom, both of them staring at me with a look of horror/wonder.

I shook it off and kept walking. I'm used to stuff like that happening.

Just up the trail from my near death experience, there was a nanny mountain goat with her kid standing inches off the trail. My family had never seen goats this close, so to be within six feet of these things was great for them.

My sister snapped some pictures, I cursed myself for forgetting my camera and my dad just shook his head and watched the goats relax in the shade.

"You couldn't have staged this any better if you tried," he said, shaking his head. "This made the flight out here worth it."

As he said that, I stepped back and kind of looked at him in disbelief.

"Thanks dad," I said, laughing. "That means a lot."

Then my mom chimed in, "oh, and seeing John Van Vleet was pretty good, too."

Such is life as a Van Vleet.

Always interesting, never quite normal.

John VanVleet is a writer for the Hungry Horse News. This week he's suffering from writer's cramp. (Bad joke).