WEST GLACIER, Mont. — The dreamers and schemers behind Glacier National Park’s Going-to-the-Sun Road must have been drunk when they decided to build this two-lane wonder. Or maybe this highway up the cliffs of the Continental Divide stemmed from a dare over a hand of poker or a joke among overtired hikers.

Clearly, these were engineers and builders who never saw an obstacle they couldn’t overcome.

By 1933, the narrow, winding road with its bridges perched precariously on cliff sides was as popular an attraction as the park itself.

Seventy-five years later, we opted to take the park’s free summer shuttle up the road. My daughters and I packed snacks, water and the camera, but decided to leave the rain gear behind since there was not a cloud in the sky and we hadn’t seen a drop of rain in six months.

Big mistake.

I’m not exactly queasy when it comes to heights, but as the shuttle driver sipped coffee with one hand while maneuvering up the windy wonder, I couldn’t help but wish he’d stop talking with his other hand and get a good grip on the wheel. The spectacular views along the route helped provide some distraction, and before long we’d arrived at Logan Pass.

If you want to watch weather develop, see a curtain of rain cross a watercolor meadow, get soaked to your skivvies in a matter of minutes, then Logan Pass is your spot. Stand along these meadows and peaks during a rainstorm and water falling on one hand may flow to the Pacific while water dripping off your other may flow to the Gulf of Mexico. The rivulets dripping off the brim of your hat may head for the Hudson Bay.

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The views from the top were spectacular despite a quickly moving storm blowing our way. We managed to meander outside for 20 minutes before the heavens opened and, unprepared for the rain, we were forced inside the visitors center.

We had our picnic lunch there and listened to a ranger’s talk in hopes that the storm would pass. An hour later, we were standing in the rain awaiting the next shuttle.

The drive down was no less stressful, particularly as I sat in the front passenger seat helping the driver learn to use the defroster and manually clear the front windshield until the defroster caught up. How he managed to navigate his way up the mountain with a window that foggy I’ll never know.

When we reached the canyon floor, the skies cleared above camp, so we explored the icy waters of McDonald Creek and meandered to Lake McDonald to play on a sandy promontory until dinnertime.

The water at Lake McDonald was surprisingly warm, and the colorful, rounded, palm-size rocks that lined its bottom were a delight. We all enjoyed the dip, and the girls made friends with the only other children on shore.

Glacier, the American side of the Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park complex, includes 13 designated campgrounds, of which we were informed Avalanche Campground was the most family friendly. The size of the campground, 86 sites, was a bit overwhelming after weeks camping in forests and smaller destinations, but the sites were well situated toward the center of the park, and dense trees provided shelter and some semblance of privacy.

The campground also serves as the trailhead for one of the most popular, accessible trails in the park, the 0.7-mile Trail of Cedars. This route, paved and sheltered by cedars, is popular among less experienced hikers, older travelers, and families with strollers. The dense forest provides shelter from the elements, and the essentially flat walk leads to an impressive creek whose rushing waters have rounded caverns from giant boulders.

We’d packed our lunch, and, yes, our rain gear, for our adventure up Avalanche Creek, and after exploring the cedar grove, opted to continue on along the heavily forested Avalanche Lake Trail. The skies were still clear for a promising hike up the well-traveled, 2-mile route with a 500-foot elevation change before we arrived at the lake upstream.

As we approached the lake, we began to feel a bit of drizzle dripping through the trees, but the clouds lifted again as we approached the lake and we could see the entire cirque complete with four waterfalls from glaciers above. We opted to hike another half-mile or so to the lake inlet, built a dam bridge across one of the creeks, generally enjoyed ourselves for about an hour before, once again, we experienced a Rocky Mountain downpour.

The rain never let up as we headed back for camp, but the girls did remarkably well on the hike down, trying to race the rivulets that ran down the trail, poking puddles with their walking sticks, singing “99 bottles of milk on the wall” ad nauseam.

We holed up in our tiny trailer for the evening, and enjoyed various noodles, hot spiced cider, books, dry clothes and sleeping bags. When the rain subsided, we ventured out of the trailer again to enjoy a campfire with our Canadian neighbors, Jason and Shannon, who thanked us for the firewood we’d provided by introducing me to Montana’s wild huckleberry beer and sharing their s’mores ingredients with us all.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have the two weeks or more needed to more fully enjoy this splendid park. Glacier is vast, with virtually unlimited backcountry potential, particularly for those keen on lakes and mountains, streams and waterfalls.

Perhaps someday we’ll take Amtrak to West Glacier, then hike through the wilderness areas of the park before reboarding the train in East Glacier. Or maybe we’ll hike Goat Haunt Trail across the U.S.-Canadian border at Waterton Lake and end our adventure with a stay at the Prince of Wales on Waterton Lake’s northern shore. (Don’t forget your passport if you plan to follow this route. There’s even a Customs station in the back country.)

For now, we settled on driving north across the border where we turned over the pepper spray Glacier Park encourages hikers to carry. Though the bears cross freely from park to park, unaware of political borders, Canada takes a different view of hiker defense.

“Honestly, if a bear gets close enough to you for the spray to reach him, this stuff really isn’t going to stop him,” said the customs agent who confiscated our spray.

The Canadian portion of the park is a fraction of the size of the American side. With the high mountains swiping most of the moisture from eastbound clouds, this portion of the international park is also much drier and more sparsely vegetated.

The park also features Waterton Townsite, a community complete with Wi-Fi hotspots, restaurants, shops and private residences located in the middle of the park. The town offers splendid views of Prince of Wales Hotel which, since 1926, has offered the best view of any hotel facility in the araea.

In addition to primitive backcountry camping along the park’s trails, there are three designated campgrounds on the Canadian side of the park: 238-site Townsite Campground located in a village smack-dab in the middle of the park; 24-site Belly River Campground off Chief Mountain International Highway entering the park from the southeast; and Crandell Mountain Campground, a dry, 129-site campground frequented by bears.

We opted to run with the bears.

Our site was clean and quiet, though pricey at $21.50 per night for no hookups. The campground features a 3 1/2-sided cook shelter available for anyone staying in the campground. Inside is a large wood-burning “stove,” a steel barrel cut in half and laid on its side with a flat top sheet of steel and a chimney as well as cool safety rails along both sides. We warmed our hands there on our evening runs to the restrooms.

We drove all the park’s roads in less than a morning and discovered loop trails that provided backcountry access, as well as trails linking roads and spurs. We especially enjoyed our canoe paddle across Cameron Lake.

While the natural beauty we experienced in the park dominates my memories of our stay, I can’t help but wonder about those civil engineers who made it all accessible.