Molly Ann Thorpe joined the Team Friendship women’s hike in Glacier National Park, Montana, on August 23 to 26, 2026. In this personal reflection, she shares how the trails, the campfire conversations, and the women she met brought Friendship Circle’s mission to life. Adapted and abridged from “Widening the Circle: My Montana Journey with Friendship Circle.”
As a child, I was so afraid of overnight camp that my parents had to come and bring me home. Yet here I was, nearly 72 years old, traveling alone to Montana without knowing a single person.
During late August 2026, I had the wonderful opportunity to join Team Friendship in its mission to support Friendship Circle, an organization devoted to children and individuals with special needs. I expected a hiking challenge in Glacier National Park. I came home with far more: a deeper understanding of inclusion, a wealth of new friendships, and a renewed sense of what it means to help another person feel seen, valued, and welcomed into the circle.
Base camp near Whitefish, Montana
At North Forty, our base camp near Whitefish, I met the other women who would share the next four days with me. We were women of different ages, backgrounds, hiking abilities, and degrees of religious observance, all wondering what kind of energy this group might create.
I soon met my roommate, Nancy Press of Long Beach, California. We hit it off instantly. Throughout the trip, people repeatedly assumed that we were lifelong best friends who had planned the journey together. In reality, we had met only hours earlier.
That first evening, after an extraordinary outdoor dinner, we gathered in camp chairs around a fire pit. The circle itself seemed symbolic. Sitting together, we introduced ourselves, shared where we had come from, and began learning why each woman was there.
One of the first people we met was Bassie Shemtov, who founded Friendship Circle with her husband, Rabbi Levi Shemtov. Its purpose is beautifully simple and profoundly important: to make sure that every individual has a friend and that every family feels embraced rather than alone.
Hiking Glacier National Park
We divided between two vans according to whether we preferred the faster or slower group. I planned to hang back, but Nancy grabbed my arm and declared, “Nope. Let’s be at the back of the fast group.” I went along, and I am so glad I did.
The drive into Glacier National Park along Going-to-the-Sun Road gave me my first glimpse of a landscape that seemed to shout Montana: skies bluer than I could have imagined, reflected in crystal-clear blue-green lakes, with mountains and trees stretching in every direction.
The trail began ordinarily enough, winding through deep forest. With my usual eyes on the ground, all I initially saw was brown dirt, rocks, and pebbles because I did not want to fall. As I grew more comfortable, I finally raised my eyes. Our naturalist guide stopped to identify trees, flowers, and rock formations. Then my ears perked up at the sound of water. I looked around, and beautiful waterfalls seemed to be everywhere.
As the elevation rose, the trail grew steeper. I huffed and puffed, placing one foot in front of the other, nose over toes, until we stopped for lunch with a view of a glacier above us and the sound of waterfalls nearby. Anyone who has hiked knows that a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich eaten on a trail may be the most delicious meal in the world. I savored every bite, enjoyed my grapes, drank plenty of water, and took in the panorama.
Over those shared miles, conversations flowed easily and real friendships were born.
What we were hiking for
Back at camp, we heard a mother and daughter share what Friendship Circle had meant to their family. A teenage volunteer had become a friend to their son and brother, and the kindness and belonging changed his life. Hearing their story helped me understand what we were hiking for.
I also joined a short reading and discussion based on the teachings of a Chabad rabbi. We learned about examining qualities such as kindness, strength, compassion, and humility. The idea was not simply to recite words, but to revisit oneself each year and ask: How am I doing? How might I become kinder? How can I shine more light toward others? In many ways, those questions reflected exactly what this journey was asking of us.
Avalanche Lake
Our next major hike led to Avalanche Lake. Much of the trail lay beneath a cool canopy, and by then everyone felt comfortable together. Conversation moved effortlessly from one walking partner to another. When we reached the lake, the trees opened to reveal Montana-blue sky, tranquil water, mountains, and distant waterfalls.
We were peacefully enjoying nature and one another, with nowhere else we needed to be. By the time we returned to the trailhead, miles no longer mattered.
The last night around the circle
The final evening program was one of reflection. Raizy and Channah, the Friendship Circle staff members who had organized our Montana experience, passed out cards bearing questions: What had we known about Friendship Circle before coming? What had we learned? Had the trip met our expectations? Would we participate again? Had we made friends? No one was required to answer the exact question on her card; the invitation was simply to speak from the heart.
When Nancy’s turn came, she set aside her card and spoke about making a new friend. Others immediately protested, “New friend? We thought you two had been best friends your entire lives!” They still could not believe that we had met only days earlier.
When it was my turn, I reflected upon how quickly the time had passed and how close we had all become. For someone whose parents once had to retrieve her from overnight camp, this was one camp where I could happily have stayed much longer. It felt comfortable. It felt like home.
At first, an adventure like this can sound like “me, me, me”: I get to hike Glacier. I get to see Montana. I get to accomplish this challenge. Yet I was walking away with entirely different questions: What can I do for others? How can I give to others? This trip felt like the first step on what could become a long road of giving back, a road offering its own special kind of comfort and satisfaction.
As the sharing concluded, Raizy and Channah presented every participant with a Team Friendship finisher medal. Then it was my turn to give something. Before leaving home, I had handmade a keychain for every woman. Each small pouch held a different combination of stones and symbols: a Star of David, a hamsa, a compass, or another hiking motif. I invited each woman to attach hers to her backpack as a reminder of what we had accomplished together.
One woman asked, “How did you know you would like us enough to make these?” I answered, “Something inside me just must have known.” The journey had become more than I could ever have imagined, and I was grateful to offer each keychain as a symbol of everything these women had given me.
Lehitraot
We returned to North Forty, packed our bags, and prepared for our flights. The goodbyes were difficult, but most were not truly goodbye. They were lehitraot, see you later. Nancy and I had already discussed traveling together.
The mountains and miles became secondary to something far more meaningful: learning what Friendship Circle does, witnessing how profoundly it changes the lives of children and families, and discovering how deeply the experience changed me.
Hike with Team Friendship
Team Friendship’s women’s hikes raise money for Friendship Circle, where teen volunteers and people with special needs become real friends. You don’t need to know anyone when you sign up. Molly didn’t.