Illustration of a lone motorcyclist on a curving mountain road with a low stone wall above a misty lake at dawn

Touring

Going-to-the-Sun Road by Motorcycle: A 40-Year-Old Promise

A retired surveyor rides Going-to-the-Sun Road by motorcycle at 67, with NPS ride facts on length, season, cold weather and limits.

By Walt DunmoreNovember 9, 2026

This story is not medical advice. The facts about the road (length, elevation, seasons, services) come from the official sources linked in the post.

Yes, you can ride a motorcycle on Going-to-the-Sun Road, and at 67 I did it on my Gold Wing. The road runs about 50 miles through Glacier National Park in Montana, and the National Park Service (NPS) says it takes about two hours without stopping. It took me most of a day.

That was my Going-to-the-Sun Road motorcycle ride, and it was forty years late. At 27 I cut a photo of this road out of a magazine and promised myself I would ride it. The clipping moved from a drafting table to a drawer to my wallet while forty years of county work and good excuses went by.

This is how the day went: the cold, the narrow lanes, the stone walls, and what a promise weighs once you finally hold it. Plan your own ride from the park's pages, not from an old man's memory.

Key Takeaways

Motorcycles can ride Going-to-the-Sun Road. The full 50 miles takes about two hours without stops, says the NPS.

The high section has no set opening date. The NPS says the road has typically been fully open by early July, so check its road status page first.

Entry rules change by year. The NPS says motorcycles need a vehicle reservation at certain times of the year, but not in 2026, so check its reservations page for the year you ride.

There is no gas inside the park, and the lot at Logan Pass usually fills by sunrise.

Logan Pass sits at 6,646 feet, and the NPS says high spots like it run 10 to 15 degrees Fahrenheit cooler. Bring layers.

My lesson: start early, ride slower than you think you need to, and do not wait forty years.

A magazine photo and a promise

I was two years into my job as a county road surveyor when I found the photo in a magazine somebody left in the break room. A road cut into a mountainside. A lake far below. I had spent those two years measuring flat county roads in the Shenandoah Valley, and I looked at that picture the way some men look at a sports car.

I cut it out, pinned it over my drafting table, and told myself I would ride that road someday. Then came the mortgage, the county, and a thousand good reasons.

I retired at 66, and a year later I ran out of excuses. I had the time and I had the Wing. I also had a stiff back and two sore hips that waiting would not improve. It took me the better part of a week to ride out from Virginia, with more stops than I used to make.

First light at the west entrance

I started at first light, because I wanted to see what I was riding past.

There is no gas inside the park, so I filled the tank in a town outside it. I wore the heavy gloves and a liner under my jacket. In July, in Montana, that looked silly in the motel lot. It looked smart by the time I got to the top.

The first miles follow Lake McDonald, the largest lake in the park. Mist lay on the water, and I had the road nearly to myself. A low stone wall ran along the edge of the lane, and there was no shoulder. The park's cycling page says none of its roads have shoulders or bike lanes, and a surveyor feels that in his stomach. Pavement, wall, and that was the whole right-of-way.

I kept to the posted speeds and let faster traffic pass at the pullouts. At 67, I do not mind being passed.

Going-to-the-Sun Road by motorcycle: the climb past the Loop

The real climb starts at the Loop, and it is a surveyor's idea of a good time.

I rode on up to the Loop, the big switchback. I pulled off, shut the engine down, and just looked.

The park's own brochure says a Bureau of Public Roads survey crew mapped the route in 1924. They often climbed 3,000 feet each morning just to reach the work, and some hung over cliffs on ropes to take measurements. I have hauled a transit through briars and bean fields. I never hung off anything.

From the Loop to the pass, the brochure says, the grade is six percent. In the 1920s that was the most designers wanted, because a car had to drop into second gear at seven. Somebody held that number up a whole mountain with a pencil and a nerve. I nodded to them through my visor.

The brochure also says the designers insisted on native materials for the walls and guardrails, and most of the stone came from the mountainside beside them. The walls look like they grew there.

At the Weeping Wall, water crossed the lane. The park's audio tour says drains carry most of it under the pavement. I slowed down, held my line, and looked for the drains. That is the kind of tourist I am.

At Big Bend, bare stripes ran down the mountainside, and a surveyor reads those as avalanche paths. The park counts 37 known ones that can affect travel on this road, and says not to stop under gullies or snowfields. I rode on to a pullout with open sky above it.

Illustration of a cliffside mountain road above a green valley, with a tiny rider and motorcycle at a stone-walled pullout

Logan Pass in the cold

The lot at Logan Pass was full when I got there, and the park had warned me it would be. The NPS says it usually fills by sunrise.

I made one slow lap, saw mountain goats on a ledge above the pavement, and took the next pullout. The sun was out and it was still cold. The park's weather page says overnight lows can drop to freezing, and snow might fall at any time of the year. My breath showed. I stood by the Wing and opened and closed my hands like a man working an invisible accordion.

A woman walking back to her car saw me at it and held out the lid of her thermos, full of hot coffee. I said thank you and drank it standing up.

Then I took the clipping out of my wallet. It had gone soft as cloth. For two days I had been afraid the real road would let the picture down. It did not. It was bigger and colder and a lot less polite, and a little fear of those edges was only good sense. I was 67, with a sore back and stiff fingers, standing at 6,646 feet next to a motorcycle that had carried me all the way from Virginia. I was exactly where I had said I would be.

Down the east side in the wind

The east side felt like another country, and the park's weather page backs me up: cooler temperatures, stronger winds, and downslope gusts that are often 50 mph or more.

The gusts that found me were enough to push a heavy bike around. I slowed down, loosened my grip, and let the Wing do the arguing.

At Jackson Glacier Overlook I pulled in again. The park says it offers the best chance to see a glacier from the road, and that the glacier is much smaller than the one early visitors saw. I know the feeling.

Below the overlook the road bent toward St. Mary Lake, the trees came back, and the wind let go. I rolled out at the St. Mary end in the early afternoon and ate a late lunch at a diner counter in town.

Illustration of a wind-ruffled mountain lake beside a stone-walled road, with a small touring motorcycle far ahead

What forty years weighs

A promise to yourself is the easiest one to break, because nobody is holding the other end.

I held mine for forty years, and the road did not mind that I was late. It was there the whole time, with the same grade, the same stone, and the same cold at the top.

I will not tell you it changed my life. My back was sore by the time I parked, and my hands took until supper to come back. I got a room in town and slept eleven hours. But I had been somewhere I said I would go. If you have a photo in a drawer, look up the park's road status and pick a morning.

Ride facts: Going-to-the-Sun Road

Fact	Detail	Source
Length and end points	About 50 miles, from the West Entrance to the St. Mary Entrance, Glacier National Park, Montana.	NPS Drive page
Drive time	About 2 hours without stopping, and 3 to 8 hours for a drive with stops.	NPS general info, NPS Drive page
Highest point	Logan Pass, 6,646 feet. It is 32 miles from the west entrance and 18 miles from the east entrance.	NPS general info
Season and closures	Lower sections stay open all year. The high section has no set opening date, but has typically been fully open from early July until the third Monday of October, weather permitting.	NPS general info, NPS road conditions
Vehicle size	Vehicles and vehicle combinations longer than 21 feet or wider than 8 feet are prohibited between Avalanche Creek and Rising Sun. That page does not mention motorcycles.	NPS road conditions
Speed limit	25 mph in the alpine section on both pages. For the lower elevations, the NPS general info page says 40 mph and the NPS Drive page says 45 mph, so follow the posted signs.	NPS general info, NPS Drive page
Fuel	No fueling stations inside the park boundary.	NPS road conditions
Food and lodging	In summer, along the road at Rising Sun, Lake McDonald Lodge and Apgar Village.	NPS general info
Named stops	The Loop is 13.3 miles, Big Bend 18 miles and Logan Pass 21 miles from Lake McDonald Lodge.	NPS cycling page
Entry and parking rules	The NPS Drive page says vehicle reservations are needed for personal vehicles and motorcycles at certain times of the year. The NPS says they will not be required in 2026, and describes a Logan Pass shuttle pilot and timed parking. Rules change by year, so check the NPS page for the year you ride.	NPS Drive page, NPS vehicle reservations
Road status	The park's official road status and plowing page.	NPS road status

Practical advice for riders:

Check the road status page the evening before and again at your start. The park says its report may be outdated because information changes quickly.
Fill the tank before you enter, and start at first light, not in the dark. The NPS warns about low visibility and wildlife at night.
Pack for a cold, windy top. The NPS says Logan Pass is generally 10 to 15 degrees Fahrenheit cooler than lower spots, and east-side gusts are often 50 mph or more.
Ride with room to spare. The NPS cycling page describes narrow, steep, winding sections with limited sight distance, and rocks on the road.
Do not stop under gullies or snowfields. The NPS says gullies can carry avalanches you cannot see from the road.

Questions riders ask about Going-to-the-Sun Road

Can you ride a motorcycle on Going-to-the-Sun Road?

Yes. The NPS Drive page says vehicle reservations are needed for personal vehicles and motorcycles at certain times of the year, and the NPS reservations page says vehicle reservations will not be required in 2026. The size limit covers vehicles and vehicle combinations longer than 21 feet or wider than 8 feet; our reading is that a solo motorcycle is well under that.

Access rules change by year, so read the vehicle reservations page before you ride.

When is Going-to-the-Sun Road open?

The lower sections stay open all year, but the high section has no set opening date because it depends on snowfall and plowing. The NPS says the road has typically been fully open by early July, and that the whole road does not usually open until late June at the earliest. It typically stays fully open until the third Monday of October, weather permitting.

This post cannot tell you today's status. Check the NPS road status page before you go.

How long does it take to drive Going-to-the-Sun Road?

The NPS says about two hours without stopping for the full 50 miles, with estimates that vary by construction, traffic and time of day. Its Drive page lists 3 to 8 hours for a trip with stops. Plan for a day if you want to use the pullouts.

From the Hexrider team

This story does not involve any product. Hexrider sells the Hexcushion, a seat pad for riders who put in long days, so read this section with that in mind. You can also read the rider reviews and the refund policy for yourself.