View of the Swan

The park where I lived while I was in Montana the past two years was perched on a mountain on one side of a long narrow valley. Past the expanse of development, the mountains on the opposite side stand tall above the valley floor. The Swan Range.

View across the valley of the Swan Range from the park

The park I was at is noted for the scenic overlook of this valley. On the first interpretive hike I led (about wildflowers), when we got to the overlook, one of the visitors pointed across to the mountain and asked, "What is the name of that peak over there?"

I had to reply, "I don't know but I'll find out."

And while it made me frustrated that she couldn’t she just ask about flowers, that question got me motivated. I actually went kind of overboard. Not only did I end up learning the names of all the peaks (which no one ever asked once I’d learned them), but I took it a step further and hiked many of the peaks and the length of the mountain range she pointed to, the Swan, in my two seasons in Montana.

First trip to the Swan in May of 2015. I was hooked from the start.

Last trip to the Swan in August of 2016.

What was really special about my Swan trips was seeing the seasons change, the snow melt, the flowers come out and then whither and go to seed. And seeing this change from year to year.

Early season

November

The Swan became that place that I could go when I was tired, sad, happy, or full of energy. It was reliable and served all purposes. Within 30 minutes of leaving work, I could be climbing and that was all that mattered. And I think that’s why I often didn’t write about many of my trips there. They were all mine.

View from my campsite on one of my solo trips that didn't make the blog

While it’s not as classically scenic as Glacier, I never tired of being able to see across the valley back to where I lived. Knowing geography of local area is important.  Maybe more important to me than scenery. A sense of place gives that inner calm.

Another sunrise over the Swan from the park that I called home for two years.

Watching the sunrise over the Swan every morning also served as a link between my days on and my days off. No matter what my day held in store, I tried to hold the view of the sunrise in my heart. Knowing that I had hiked those mountains the previous weekend, or would hike them in just a few days. Remembering that could carry me through anything.

Looking back across the valley from the Swan range.

Last summer, I started watching the moon rise above the Swan too. And we put on a full moon hike at the park and invited everyone to come out to watch the moon rise with us. It turned out to be our most successful program at the park. I was so excited that I could describe all the peaks and point out where the moon would appear.

Watching the moon rise with more people that I ever dreamed would join us

Explaining where the moon rise would happen (as viewed from the park's overlook)

Hello moon. Right where I knew you would be.

Rising more.

Watching the moon come up between 6 Mile Mountain (that I’d climbed) and Big Hawk (where I’d been swimming last year) filled me with such joy.

View from the summit of 6 Mile Mountain.

Having those connections, especially in remembering that very first hike I’d led, where I hadn’t known any of this, makes me smile. I had no idea where that question would take me!

Summit of Mt. Aenes.

In thinking about moving, I wonder what new places will speak to me, and where my trips will lead. How do you find new places that make you want to know their every peak and valley? What modivates you to get out on your days off?

For more about my hikes in the Swan, links here.

Early season in the Swan

All week I gaze across the valley at the Swan Range.  One spot in particular ended up being my favorite little getaway in Montana last year.  I ended up there repeatedly, watching spring turn to summer and then fall.  I’m itching to get back and see it this early in the season.  How much snow is still on the pass to get over there?  Only one way to find out.

Low elevation flowers are popping.

Coralroot.

Trout lily.

The green colors are overwhelming after my winter in New Mexico.  Was Montana this in-your-face green last year?

A thousand shades of green.

Hiking over early season blowdowns.  This is why other people wear pants.

I’m surprised the snow level is so low.  I’d thought when I rounded to the east-facing slopes that the sun would have cleared them.  But no.  I hike past where the last pair of footprints.  The slopes get steeper.  What did I expect?

Angles that make my head spin.

Despite microspikes, I slip a few times.  A full backpack and heavy sleeping bag isn’t helping, but oh how I’d hoped to camp out here.

Around the corner, the pass appears.  I want to go further/ I don’t want to go further.  Carrying my full pack up here was stupid/ carrying my full pack up here felt good and is making me stronger.  I love the solitude/ what-if-I-fall-down-and-break-my-neck-and-die-out-here-alone.

Where I decide to turn around.  The lakes will still be there in a few more weeks.

On the way back down, a couple with small daypacks pause to ask me where snowline is.  They mention they’d done the other side trail last week but “It was far to Wolf Creek but there wasn’t snow.”

So, I take the trail out to Wolf Creek. Small streams flow with clear cold water.  So novel, after the cow slobber water in New Mexico.  Being away, even just for a few months, makes me appreciate these things all the more.

Delicious.

Flowering trees perfume the air. 

Wolf Creek is too high for me to ford, so I turn around a second time and head back to the trailhead.  This trout-lily gorgeous valley is an unexpected treat.  So much more exploring remains beyond these early season barriers.  I can hardly wait to see what this year will bring.

Approaching Wolf Creek

Date hiked: May 1

Major shakedown hike

Will I be ready for my big three week long backpacking vacation next week?  Time for a shakedown!

First, gear testing.  I’ve got the same stuff I took on the PCT and AZT, due to my AmeriCorps budget (i.e. no new gear).  So I had to test out if the fresh superglue and patches will hold my old gear together.  So far, so good.

Did you really want gear photos when there are views like this?  Didn't think so.  You're welcome.

I did pull the trigger on a replacement toothbrush and new plastic ziplocks.  The new ziplocks were sort of shiny and smelled too clean, but hopefully I will adjust.  And they will get dirty soon enough. 

I next turned to assessing my physical fitness.  Actually, that’s a lie.  I really didn’t pay any attention because the scenery was too beautifully distracting.  I climbed up a mountain just to have somewhere to go and didn’t calculate elevation change until after the trip (4000 feet). I like climbing uphill. It felt good. I hope I get to climb some more.

Evidence that I do sometimes end up peakbagging, if only by mistake.

Without gear or fitness worries, I focused on practicing my skills.  My upcoming backpacking trip will take me to new and challenging terrain, so I want to be sure I am well versed in the techniques that will get me through.

Went for a swim to practice my cooling off and floating around skills.  Then worked on sitting by the side of the lake and watching water striders.

I tend to get overconfident in my botanizing and take unnessary risks like thinking I will see a plant a second time and not stopping to take photos if I think the lighting could be better in a little while.  This shakedown hike really made me dig deep and revise my posey bagging priorities.  Because really it's the mental challenges that are the biggest.

Huckleberry pickin and eatin.  Definitely need more practice.

Think I have the cloudwatching down.  Still not good at cloudwalking.  But will keep trying.

I will not be blogging from the trail and I’m not telling you where I’m going.  But I will say that I’m super duper excited that my friend Arizona that I hiked with on the PCT will be flying out to join me.  Yippee!

Trip notes
This was a solo dayhike in the Swan Range of northwestern Montana.  Not gonna specify where exactly because I only saw 2 other people and really appreciated the solitude.  Huge thanks to C. for telling me about this spot!

Confessions of an introvert

I could tell you all sorts of reasons why I’m on this trail here alone...  How I am training for my next backpacking trip next month.  Because I see the Swan Range from where I live and I crave the sense of home that I get from knowing the mountains around me.  All true.  But really it's an inner drive for solitude. 

Climbing 4000 feet to the top of Columbia Mountain, the northernmost peak in the Swan Range.  Leaving behind civilization (i.e. the Flathead Valley).

Being new in town too, I get frustrated with myself that I can't always go on social hikes, organized hikes, where I'd meet other people.  How am I going to make friends out here?   Too much socializing makes me exhausted though.  Ah, the problem of being an introvert.

It's just me up here on the summit of Columbia Mountain.  And I won't see anyone else for the rest of the day either.  Which actually makes me happy.

“Is there some way I can change my personality.”  I asked a therapist many years ago, “Am I stuck being an INFJ for the rest of my life?”  At the time I was upset about other aspects of my personally.  "Do you really want to be another person who doesn’t feel like you do?" she responded.

Would I really want to be an extrovert, given the choice?  Not that I have a choice.  Why is it so hard to admit that I want to backpack solo?  Can't I just accept this need for solitude?  Celebrate it, perhaps?

Thus, I am out here, for another solo backpacking trip, along the Swan Crest/ Alpine Trail in northwestern Montana.  I could have gone backpacking with someone else.  But no, I need this.

Entering a vibrant world.

Alone, the rhythm of my breath synchs to the pace of my footsteps.  Settling into my all day pace—the one that I can sustain the entire day.  I breathe a sign of relief.

Watching this.

I don’t know how people think surrounded by people.  I want uninterrupted chunks of time to be with the questions that burn in me.  To let the thoughts rattle around in by brain until they wear themselves out, so my mind can grow quiet.

Reflections in still waters.

Only then can I really see these mountains.  I feel immersed, heightened senses, a connection with this landscape.  When I’m up here alone, I understand.  I find meaning.

Possibilities.  Things start to make more sense.

This is the sleep that is most restorative.  How come sleep is better out in the woods than it ever is in town?

Recharged, I can go back to start another week.  To make connections with people, to dive into the projects that I believe in, to work on collaborations that I find so fulfilling. 

Hopefully next week, I'll have the energy to go backpacking with friends.  Cause it really is more fun with to share the outdoors with people.  In a different sort of way.

Waking up refreshed.

Watching clouds licking the mountaintops as the storm rolls in.  Change is coming.  It always does.

Information and hiking details
This was an out and back along the northern part of the Swan Range.  Starting from Columbia Mountain, joining the Alpine Trail #7, going all the way to where I left off previously, then going back to camp at Lamoose Lake, then returning back the way I came. 

Here is a description for climbing Columbia Mountain.

I love my new map which shows this hike-- the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex-Northern Half, by Cairn.  Makes for really good bedtime reading/dreaming.

Leaving you with one final wildflower.