Road-Trip Day Three: Logan's Pass

The clouds hung low on glaciated peaks crumbling slowly into deep valleys. The sun broke through in patches. It was all very pleasant, for the most part, but I was told there would be mountain goats. Lots of them. Climbing impossible slopes. Dancing precarious. Bleating anthems from every cliff in this park. I had driven a long way. With steep drop-offs, narrow lanes, and no guard-rails. My stomach had turned queasy. I had swallowed my fear and needed no breath-mint—but I was promised mountain goats. There are no mountain goats at this visitor center. Only stuffed marmots, an exhibit about global warming, and ugly children throwing snow.