Polebridge, Mt 59928

Kalispell, MT, MT, USA

I heard about Polebridge from an Australian-Indonesian man named Wayne. He’s the owner of the Backpacker’s Hostel in Bozeman, Montana. “There are only two hostels in the world that I rave about,” he said, gushing. “The Hostel in the Forest in Georgia, and the North Fork Hostel in Polebridge.” He went on to share more about this tiny Western town at the North Fork entrance to Glacier National Park: it’s never been on the electric grid and now runs on solar power and backup generators; there are only a handful of establishments in town, including a saloon and an old mercantile. My boyfriend and I looked at each other with unstated agreement. We were going to Polebridge. We drove about an hour and a half north from Whitefish; most of the route was on a well-maintained dirt road. We admired old ranches and hay stacks rolled up like giant cinnamon rolls along the way. When we arrived in Polebridge, the sun had just set. We walked into the North Fork Hostel, following the smell of sauteed vegetables and the sound of friendly chatter into the kitchen. Under light from a hanging kerosene lantern, we met the night’s crew. http://nfhostel.com/

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Montana's Best-Kept Secret

I heard about Polebridge from an Australian-Indonesian man named Wayne. He’s the owner of the Backpacker’s Hostel in Bozeman, Montana. “There are only two hostels in the world that I rave about,” he said, gushing. “The Hostel in the Forest in Georgia, and the North Fork Hostel in Polebridge.” He went on to share more about this tiny Western town at the North Fork entrance to Glacier National Park: it’s never been on the electric grid and now runs on solar power and backup generators; there are only a handful of establishments in town, including a saloon and an old mercantile. My boyfriend and I looked at each other with unstated agreement. We were going to Polebridge. We drove about an hour and a half north from Whitefish; most of the route was on a well-maintained dirt road. We admired old ranches and hay stacks rolled up like giant cinnamon rolls along the way. When we arrived in Polebridge, the sun had just set. We walked into the North Fork Hostel, following the smell of sauteed vegetables and the sound of friendly chatter into the kitchen. Under light from a hanging kerosene lantern, we met the night’s crew. http://nfhostel.com/

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