It ain't heavy, it's my bike: Glacier National Park, Day 7

We each did our own thing in the morning. Reed displayed poor light discipline at 2 a.m. when he went to the bathroom. Molly and I had a pillow fight. Busse laughed in his sleep a few times.

Tight quarters at the ol' Apgar Village Lodge - photo by Reed Thompson

We went on a half-day horseback ride at Swan Mountain Outfitters in the afternoon with Mason the overbearingly chatty 23-year-old. Mason lives in a tent behind the corral and has seen 70 bears in four years. Reed rode Astro, Nathan rode Ice, Molly rode Dakota, and I rode Mongo. Nathan and Reed's horses were half-Icelandic, and Mongo and Astro liked to snack on the grass and saplings along the trail. Busse's horse could eat on the run. Dear reader, please note that Busse's grundle was fine in the saddle, and he noted that he got an erection from the motion of riding. Reed had horsehair on his shoes.

We went to Kalispell, where all the sun in Montana appears to reside. We went to a thrift store, where I bought two western shirts, and Reed saw two typewriters that he chose not to purchase. Reed learned that he had become an uncle while we were in the thrift store. We went to Moose's Saloon and got intimidated by the saloon doors and sawdust and peanuts on the floor, and the carved graffiti on the tables and walls.

There weren't any tables available anyway, so we went to dinner at A Taste of Rome Pizzeria. Our waitress wasn't helpful, but the pizza was excellent. The cook was able to confirm that Moose's exists, but didn't have any information on why it would be packed at 5 p.m. on a Friday.

We went back to Moose's for a pitcher and to share stories of fights we'd gotten into. Busse hit Reed with a tangerine on the walk through town afterward. Jose Frank is the Dick Idol of Kalispell. We got ice cream at Sweet Peaks (aka Sugar Tits), and Reed got a cool hat and hit on a mom.

We drove back to Apgar and toasted champagne on the dock on Lake McDonald and looked at the stars. There was a dude laying on the dock in a sleeping bag totally silent, which was odd.