Glacier was on my list for twenty years. We went in July with the RV—check length restrictions, darling, or learn them the hard way like I almost did. Going-to-the-Sun Road is not a highway; it is a poem written in switchbacks. We took it slow, stopped at every legal overlook, made sandwiches like we were on a European train with better scenery and worse legroom in the passenger seat.
I thought about Austria by rail in the nineties, fields sliding past a window. Same appetite for slow travel, different vehicle. Biscuit napped. I drove. My wife navigated and occasionally prayed with humor.
We saw mountain goats posing like they knew Instagram was coming. We drank bad campground coffee that tasted excellent because altitude and triumph pair well.
Book early. Read vehicle limits. Give yourself two days minimum. Hurry is for airports, not glaciers.