There is no website, you won’t find much on Tripadvisor, and you have to call to make a reservation, yet I could not have found a better place to stay and eat on our cross country train trip.
Arriving in Belton-West Glacier at 1:00 a.m. is not high on my list of recommendations, but sometimes you just have to go with it and make do. Thankfully when we stepped off the train in the dark, we were less than 100 yards (albeit up a bit of a hill) from a clean, spacious, comfortable hotel room!
The restaurant at Glacier Highland is not to be missed. We ate all of our meals there and indulged in the most incredible pies! I’m still not quite sure what a huckleberry is but I sure wish I could get them here at home ~ Delicious! See the slices of pie on the counter… yum.
The biggest standout about are stay at the Glacier Highland is the owner, Mary. A woman of few words on the phone when making reservations, I found her to be a tough, no nonsense receptionist behind the front desk. When one of my children fell ill however her kindness brought me to tears.
We were only staying for one night and then continuing on our journey west to Seattle when one of my sons became ill. Not your typical runny nose or stomach bug, but the full on flu, fever, shakes, the whole shebang. What started with “Mom I have a headache” at the beginning of the day became “lets hope it’s altitude sickness” at the top of Logan’s Pass. As he sat wrapped in a sweatshirt, and we made our way back to the hotel (which is another great story in the kindness of strangers to be written shortly), we stopped in the Glacier Highland restaurant to have dinner, gather our stored luggage and check on our train.
Thinking that we only needed to wait until about 8:00 p.m., we were dismayed to find out that the train would not be in until midnight. My poor son now has his head down on the dining room table and he is virtually incoherent. With no actual train station to wait in, just a bench outside in the dark, I looked at my husband and said “I’ve got to rent another room, he can’t stay here.”
I ran across to the office that Mary was closing for the night and explained my desperate plight. Suddenly the woman I’ll admit I was mildly intimidated by, told me to get my son over here right now. She opened a freshly made up room right next to the office and within sight of the train. By the time I had dragged my family and luggage to the room, Mary had the bed turned down and a water bottle on the nightstand.
When Mary refuse to accept payment, my eyes filled with tears. She waited nearby visiting with her family, but I believe, that mother to mother she was making sure we would be okay.