We check out the remaining Ranger recommendation, the Whitefish Farmers Market.  It is about a 20- mile drive but all on pavement this time.  Whitefish is predominantly a ski town but they do their darndest to get folks in for the summer season as well.  Amtrak still stops here regularly and they have done a nice job restoring the old station.  Distilleries and breweries are sprinkled among many bars, restaurants, and shops of the downtown.  Carol is on the lookout for hard cider and is assured by the hostess at the Craggy Range Bar, “we have cider”.  We take a seat at the bar with high hopes as a cider does appear on one of the taps. The bar tender is rushed and a bit frazzled so it is a few minutes before he slows down to attend to us; unfortunately, only to tell us “I haven’t had any cider for a while now”.  Rats. There are several local beers on draft and they claim to have local spirits.  I go for a ‘local’ bourbon, Yellowstone Select.  It is smooth and great sipping whiskey.  Unfortunately, as I find out later when I google it, it is also actually made in Kentucky. Little sleight of hand on the bar tender’s part!  Carol’s beer goes down smoothly too.  We try blistered shishito peppers but find them hotter than expected.  Most come home with us to throw into various recipes.

We stroll the main street and circle through a couple shops including one filled with amazing fine arts pieces – carvings and bronze work and paintings on canvas and stone nearly any of which would be welcome in my someday cabin.

It is 5PM and the market is opening up.  We cruise the arts and whatnot section first but find nothing we just have to have.  A few booths have local produce, mostly root vegetables but some tomatoes and fruit as well.  It all looks wonderful.  We pass it up too.  We come across baked goods, more on that later.  We head toward the food trucks, that’s been our plan all along for dinner.  First, we scope them all out: Thai, Russian Piroshkis, grain bowls, and BBQ all catch our eye as does a decadent giant cookie stop.  We settle on BBQ, good choice then share a piroshki (lamb and pork filled bread ball, much like a runza) and enjoy it as we listen to the local entertainment, two fellows playing lively mandolin/guitar/concertina/violin. Our tummies are full but we can’t skip the baked goods.  We take home a huckleberry bear claw and sticky bun from the Mercantile’s booth plus a loaf of sourdough from a local favorite bakery, if the length of lines tells one anything.  A grizzly bun never makes it to the car.  It is a crispy, cinnamony pastry.  Yum

Kent reports a dusting of snow on the Many Glacier side and a black bear sighting near the hotel over there.