On a late June morning we fired up the bikes and rode out of Kalispell, Montana, expecting great things at Glacier National Park. Early indications didn’t encourage us. The chill cut deep and we endured 30 miles of mostly urban traffic. So far, the shivers from cold and the frustrations from traffic seemed typical. Nothing awesome, just unpleasant conditions. Then we entered Glacier. The first ten miles or so were straight and slow and serene as we skirted Lake McDonald. Evergreens provided a covered archway and limited the visibility, and I relaxed in the slowness. The frustrations of the earlier morning ride seeped away and I sensed God’s presence again invading my soul. Serenity soon ended as…