It started out as an adventure to Glacier National Park in a 25-year old Volkswagen Westfalia. It ended with federal agents on both sides of the U.S. — Canada border descending on the East Glacier area, surrounding my sister and parent’s campsite, guns drawn, hoping to catch a fugitive couple.

No, my parents weren’t on the run after escaping from an Arizona prison like the ones at the heart of an international manhunt across the West. Rather, my parents had escaped from their jobs in Washington, D.C. to take a two-week vacation out west, caravanning in an old camper while touring Glacier, quite possibly “the last best place.”

My parents, Steve and Margy, departed D.C. July 31, headed for Spokane, Wash., where they spent a day or so with my aunt Alison. Their trusty hunter green Westfalia was rented out of Coeur D’Alene, which they picked up Monday morning before heading to Darby, Mont., and eventually to Ketchum, Idaho. The real adventure began when they headed to Polson for two nights at my house, where I graciously gave them a reprieve from the camper and pulled out the sofa hideaway mattress.

Off to Glacier, we pulled into the campground at Fish Creek, where my parents had reserved a spot in March, and set up camp before heading out for our first hike. Avalanche Lake, a three-mile roundtrip jaunt from the Trail of the Cedars trailhead, was our destination, where people and beauty abounded, but no wildlife to speak of. Avalanche Creek and its effects on the surrounding rocks is a beautiful sight, as is the lake itself, which is fed by three humongous waterfalls flowing with melted glacial water. It was a good introduction to Glacier for the newbies.

Back at camp, I learned the nuances of the Volkswagen Vanagon Westfalia Wolfsburg Edition Weekender. The most distinctive feature is its pop-top, which opens up a canvas extension to make room for a bed on top. A plastic opening gives the person on top a stargazing view. Below, the back seats fold down to create a second bed, meaning the van can effectively and comfortably sleep four, pretty amazing for a vehicle really no bigger than your average modern minivan.

Inside, the VW is equipped with a second battery — no generator — that has standard 120 volt plug-ins, meaning your cell phones and GPS units are always charged, no matter how deep in the wilderness you go.

Lucky for my parents, the man who rented the vehicle, Scott Quinnett, the owner of Dragonflyvans, also provided plenty of camping gear. A cooler, sleeping bags, pillows, a grill, two burners and kitchen equipment made our encampment pretty self-sufficient. It seems the lone drawback to the whole deal was gas mileage, with the tank running pretty dry after approximately 200 miles.

My main issue with the vehicle was its sliding door and my parents’ penchant for slamming it at early hours in an attempt to keep out bugs, of which there were plenty.

We had my vehicle as well, which came in handy for shorter drives, especially once in the park. Quinnett had told my mom to “put it in fourth and floor it,” which she did on the highway, reaching a max speed of about 60 miles per hour. This made for an interesting approach to the Park as we attempted to caravan, somewhat successfully.

That Sunday we headed up to Logan Pass to the top of the Highline trail, which we hiked one way to The Loop parking area before taking a shuttle back down to Avalanche Creek. Again one of the most popular trails on the west side of the Park, we encountered plenty of people, one mountain goat and some cold, foggy, blustery weather. When we reached the Granite Park Chalet to warm up by the fire, everyone was abuzz after hikers ran into a sow grizzly and her two cubs on the trail. The bears headed down into a meadow, where we tried to spot them with binoculars without success.

The Highline Trail offers some of the best panoramic views of the west side of the Park and if you aren’t too worried about running into people, it is quite pleasant. The standard questions of “where are you from” and “what site are you camping in” stirred the usual small talk among hikers, but when my parents mentioned camping in the Westfalia, more than a few people of my parents’ generation grew misty-eyed, thinking of the good old days and their dream of one day camping in the vintage vehicle. I think my ‘rents stirred up some pretty good business for Scott, as most people we encountered exclaimed, “Well, I always wanted to do that!” before turning to their respective spouses with a hopeful look in their eye. 

The contrast was the Westfalia “fanatics” my family bumped into that were eager to bond over a shared passion for the van. The guy from Alaska who asked about the engine, year and all sorts of specifics my parents didn’t really know. The family at the St. Mary campground who had flown out from the East Coast and rented an RV but seemed sorry to have left their Westfalia so many thousands of miles away. The numerous other multi-colored Westfalias headed in the opposite direction on mountain roads, flashing the peace sign as they headed off on their own adventures. So is the life when driving such a retro vehicle.

My sister, Maura, rolled into West Glacier Monday morning via the 8:13 a.m. train from Spokane, where we greeted her before I headed back to Polson to work while my family took the Westfalia up and over Logan Pass and to their next campground at St. Mary on the east side of the Park. Unidentified sources say my father kept away from the windows of the vehicle, his fear of heights acting up as they crossed the Going-to-the-Sun road.

The east side of the Park proved an adventure in itself as word of the prison escapee and his female accomplice possibly entering northwestern Montana spread through the campsite grapevine, including at the bathroom sink where campers brushed their teeth and gossiped with veteran acumen, according to my mother.

The trip went as planned, my parents agreed, and I don’t think they could have enjoyed it anymore so than they did. My mom and dad in a Westfalia proved quite the vacationing ‘Bonnie and Clyde,’ getting the perfect escape from another hot, humid Washington, D.C. summer.