Rainy Harrison Lake

Thunder rumbles in the distance.  The intensity of the rain picks up.  I splash along the shoreline- my shoes are soaked anyway and I can only feel half of my frozen toes, but a little more wet won’t matter.  The lake water has risen to cover the gravely bank but I’m determined to get to the survey site before the storm rolls in.  I'm out here doing surveys for Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program, and there is still a view of the steep, snow-speckled Glacier Park peaks that I hope harbor mountain goats.

Is this storm coming in or heading out?

Balancing my umbrella in my poncho, I pull out my binoculars and scan the cliffs.  Binoculars fog up, get wiped clean, fog up again, then get rain-soaked.  Goat-shaped rocks or rock-shaped goats?  Is that goat-snow patch moving?  Binocs are too blurry to tell.

Foggy binocs frustration.

I retreat back to the ranger cabin porch to wait it out.  What if the fog rolls in further?  What if the rain keeps pouring all night? I don't know why it matters so much.  I'm not getting paid.  If I can't survey, it's OK.  But still, I care.  I want to see if the goats are out there.  Curiosity, ah yes, you powerful modivator.

Waiting, watching, trying not to be cold.  How could we be this cold in July?

No sense in what- ifing.  There is only listening to the rain drops through the forest.  Watching the sparkle of light on wet forest.  Marveling at the wonder of found-shelter.  Soaking in the here-and-now.  Breathing it in.  There is only waiting and being present.

(Oh why is this stillness, this softness with the present moment so accessible out here, but sometimes hard to find inside buildings, inside cities?)

Slowly, very slowly, there is a brightness that appears in the distance.  Is it moving this way? 

Ah blue sky- what are you even?  A little patch.  But there nonetheless.

Blue skies.

I move down again to the water’s edge where I can make out the distant peaks.  Are you out there, mountain goats?  Through the binoculars, there is a possible goat-rock or it is a real goat? Are those legs- oh it’s moving!  It's a goat not a rock!  Out come the spotting scope and tripod, and oh there are four goats sure enough.

  One, two, three, F-O-U-R goats.

Their locations is recorded in my citizen science data sheet.  I watch them for a while longer.  They move the way goats do, across impossible cliffs, nimble.  Ah goats!

All it took was some waiting, some watching.  Without the spotting scope, without that break in the weather, I'd never have seen them.  How many things are like that?  Without knowing how to look, without waiting for a clear view, you'd never even know that four goats were up there.  I wonder how much more I'd see if I had this kind of patience in other situations.

Socked in with fog the next morning. But ah the stillness.

Trip Info

The Boundary Trail led 7.2 miles above the Middle Fork of the Flathead from Headquarters to the Harrison Lake Trail.  Then it was 4.8 miles to the Harrison Lake Campground, and 0.5 miles beyond to the goat site.

Along the Middle Fork of the Flathead.

Only saw two other people in two days, and there was no one else at the campsite.  No one.  On a weekend in July.  They say that Glacier National Park is crowded, but it’s not if you know where to go.  Just don't tell anyone about Harrison Lake.  Or tell them its a terribly overgrown trail.

Which is true.  Here we are fighting through the bushes.  The trail was only like this 75% of the time.

The Belton Bridge was not the place for solitude, certainly.  When returning to the trailhead, it was packed with people playing loud music and sunbathing in bikinis and whooping as they leapt into the water below.  What a shocking onslought of humanity to return to after such a quiet and restorative two days.  I strode by with my sun-umbrella, knee high gaiters, and long-sleeved shirt, feeling feral and free, determined to carry the peace and wildness with me in my heart as I venture back into the week.

Harrison Lake- let's keep it quiet.

Date Hiked: July 16-17, 2016
More about Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program.

CDT in Glacier: Oldman Lake

A three night backpacking trip with Renee along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park. 

Among the many reasons I love hiking with Renee is that we share a passion for maps.

In preparation for Renee’s first trip in grizzly country, we went over proper use of bear spray the night before with some demo practice spray.  Hands-on demos are best for figuring out how close bears need to be before using the spray and how the spray acts in wind.  Learning how to put the safety cap on and off, and seeing just how easy it is for the spray to go off unintentionally, helps prevent accidentally spraying oneself or one’s hiking buddy.

Grizzly habitat.

During our four days, we completed five mountain goat and two loon surveys for Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program.  Renee used her hiking umbrella so she could look for mountain goats into the sun using the spotting scope and stay cool for the hour-long survey.

More uses for the umbrella.

Our first survey yielded no goats, but a few miles down the trail, I spotted four goats way up on the hillside.

A sheep moth visits us as we are conducting our bighorn sheep and mountain goat survey.

I wasn’t sure if there would be trees for my hammock on this trip.  In Glacier, you have to camp within the designated sites.  Renee was generous in bringing both her tents so I could try them out.

Two tents, no hammock

Sleeping on the ground was awkward at first but it was enjoyable working on my ground-dwelling skills.  In the middle of the night, a powerful storm rolled through, but I stayed dry.

Using Renee's technique of using an umbrella inside the tent for protection from horizontal rain.

Oldman Lake was one of the prettiest campsites I've been to in Glacier.  Though perhaps that is something that I say at every campsite.

Oldman Lake

Route: 
From the Two Medicine North Shore Trailhead, the Pitamakan Pass Trail climbs 6.4 miles to Oldman Lake Campground.  Backcountry permits are required.

Day hiked: June 27, 2016

Overnight at Elizabeth Lake

I joined a loon and mountain goat survey trip to Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. 

From the Chief Mountain Trailhead, we followed the Belly River Trail 9.7 to Elizabeth Lake Campground.

Along the Belly River.

Further up along the Belly River.

I think this is spotted saxifrage.

Cooling off at Dawn Mist Falls.

After setting up our campsite at the foot of the lake, we started up the trail towards Helen Lake.  We didn’t get far.  A bear other campers warned us about was in the path.  It didn’t seem concerned about us, just kept right on foraging.  We started retreating, hoping it would move on.  It had other ideas. 

As we were backing up, we had an even more exciting wildlife encounter— a FROG hopped by.  WOW!  We all immediately pulled out our cameras and knelt down around the jewel of an amphibian, forgetting all about the bear.   There are only a few types of amphibians in Glacier, and we wanted to submit our observation to iNaturalist.

This is a photo of the cool frog, which leapt away quickly but you might see in the bottom right hand corner if you squint.  It would have been irresponsible to take a photo of the bear. 

It was decided to abandon the plan for the survey at Helen in favor of giving the bear space.  It was a tough call since no one else has surveyed loons at Helen this season. 

Spotting distant mountain goats and bighorn sheep at Elizabeth Lake.

As we were surveying, we watched as the bear made its way down the trail towards Helen Lake.  I’m glad that bear got to have a peaceful evening to do it’s bear-things without being harassed by hikers.

Loons called back and forth during the night and early morning.  How many of them were there?  Are they nesting?  We have no idea.

The next morning, we ate breakfast and watched shadows creeping across the mountains. 

One more black bear and plenty of tracks on the return trip to the trailhead.

More information

Date hiked: June 6 - 7

Belly River Trail details

Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program

Glacier National Park Backcountry Camping permits

Quartz Loop in Glacier

 Up pops the loon, out of the depths, right near us.  So close the black and white pattern is sparkling like magic.  It’s amazing how far they swim underwater, and how long they hold their breath.  How can we be the only ones at this lake?  It feels like we are the only humans around for miles.

Just watching.

D. and I stay still, observing the loon swimming and diving.  We’ve already completed our hour-long survey for Glacier’s Citizen Science Program, where we’ve taken notes on its behavior in our data sheet.  We’ve stopped recording our notes, this is bonus time.  Time to be peaceful.

Through the binoculars.

Time looses all meaning.  That peace that comes only when the mind stills.  Moments like this don’t come often, with our busy lives. 

Stillness.

Watching the weather changing.

It starts to rain, so we retreat to our shelters for the evening.  The loons call back and forth between the two neighboring lakes.  What are they saying to one another?  To me, it is the sound of wilderness itself.  Unspoiled, precious, free.  I keep listening, the sweetness of rain pattering on the tarp.

Hiking out through the snow that the storm brought

I think about how backpacking used to be about trying to get somewhere.  Or to get in shape.  Or to burn through miles.  I like how doing these surveys allow me to concentrate on watching, being patient and curious.  In a place this spectacular, this wild, it's a good way to be. 

Crazy double trillium bonus

More information

Date hiked: May 8-9, 2016

Route: Quartz Lake loop, camping at Upper Quartz

Glacier National Park Citizen Science Program

Park Creek in Glacier

Last mountain goat survey of the season: Park Creek, Glacier National Park.

I can tell why they needed someone to do this site— it’s 11 miles into the backcountry.  To pull it off in one day requires 22 miles.  Plus, this southern section is not a popular area.  One friend say this area is “boring” and that it’s “just trees.” All of this suits me perfectly!

Just trees.

At the survey site, I spot them quickly: three mountain goats, mere specks on the distant cliff.  Now that I’ve got the search image after a whole season of doing surveys, they jump out at me.  Still, I scan for a full hour, just to see if I missed any.

Borrowed gear for the mountain goat survey.  As a VIP volunteer, I even get an NPS radio!

Doing surveys on my hikes gives me purpose in where I go on my days off.   It is fun to be engaged, to be observant for a reason.  To wonder about the goats, to feel like I'm doing my part to help them.  Like I am making an effort to protect this place and the wild creatures that live here. 

Can you see the mountain goat on the distant cliff face?

Afterwards I find out I have volunteered over 160 hours this summer doing surveys at 22 sites.  I may not have hiked anywhere near the number of miles that I did last year, but somehow seeing the tally of my volunteer hours fills me with a deep satisfaction that can’t be quantified.

How else can you respond to this overwhelming beauty?

Fall in Glaicer.

For more information:
Volunteer for Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program
Hike the Park Creek Trail from Walton Ranger Station.

Kintla to Bowman, Part 2

Every backpacker we passed our first day told us about the grizzly at Hole in the Wall campsite. 

We had permits our second night for Hole in the Wall Campsite.

Some said they passed close to him on the spur trail between trail and campsite.  Others said he hung around the food prep area at the campsite.  A few said he was a “friendly” bear.  None of this sounded good to me.  I’d rather stay far away from grizzlies.  Twice I have not camped in sites that I had reserved after learning of bear activity there the night before.  But D. was excited about seeing a grizzly and wanted to get a photo.  And we had one more mountain goat survey.

When we descended into camp, we got lucky and the grizzly was far away from the camp and trail.  We met M. who had been watching the grizzly and we were glad to be sharing the site with another camper.  We turned into bed early.

M. had a story in the morning though!  When he’d unzipped his tent at about 6:30 AM, the grizzly was right outside his door.  After a moment of being face to face, the grizzly ran off. 

After packing up, D. and I scanned the valley with our binocs to locate the grizzly before we left camp.  Hole in the Wall campsite lies at the bottom of a hanging cirque lined with huckleberries like a huge berry bowl with the main trail at the rim of the bowl.   Would the grizzly be on the spur trail that we needed to take back up to the main trail? 

“There are two grizzlies now!” I am horrified.  We watch them move closer together, foraging for berries.  They bluff charge each other, and their grunts and growls can be heard all the way across the valley.

Two grizzlies!  Photo by D.

It is like watching a nature video, but it is real and there is no screen.  Boundaries of trail and campsite are an illusion.  Was the territorial behavior causing hormones to surge in their veins?

The other campers all agree to hike out past the grizzlies together.  The five us us form a tight line.  We loose sight of the bears as we drop down into the bowl.  We sing and make noise, bear spray clutched in our hands.  Ever turn is a blind turn.

D. leading the way with her bear spray out on the narrow trail.  She's one brave woman.

And then, there he is, right above the trail behind some small trees, right on the switchback.  JUST KEEP WALKING AND DON’T LOOK DIRECTLY AT HIM.  We hold our formation, tight, bear spray out. 

Of course we were all gripping our bear sprays, so no photo, but the grizzly, like this one, was right behind the small trees directly above the trail. Artwork by Bev Doolittle.

There he is, so close I could reach out and touch him.  The grizzly could reach out an touch us too.  But he doesn’t.  Then we are past.

Looking back at Hole in the Wall Campsite after we made it past the first grizzly.  I remember having a vague sense that the area was scenic and that I was missing the beauty.

Where is the other grizzly?  A steaming pile of scat on the trail provides part of the answer.  I spy him down below the valley below Brown Pass.  Or is it another grizzly?  How many are there?

At our goat survey site, the other hikers hurry ahead.  I scan the cliffs for goats while D. keeps her binocs trained on the grizzly.  He’s grazing for berries and moving in our general direction.  I’m suppose to look for goats for a full hour.  I manage two full scans of the cliffs.  My pulse thundering the minutes ticking by.  It’s only been 15 minutes but the grizzly is now too close.  We abandon the survey and hike on.

Going down Brown Pass, happy to be leaving the grizzlies to their berries.

I don’t understand the people who called them friendly.  That strikes me as disrespectful.  On the other hand, it was fascinating to watch them so long through binoculars across the valley.  To see how fast they ran when they charged each other.  I wonder if it was right to camp there though.  They have so little space.  I felt like I was encroaching on their home, overstepping. 

Moving to Montana, I didn’t realize the ramifications of being in grizzly territory.  I know my imagination probably runs too wild.  Statistically, problems are rare, and I’m still much more likely to fall off a cliff or get hit by a car.  Maybe it’ll get easier over time.  This place is so gorgeous, it feels worth it… at least most of the time.

Kintla to Bowman, Part 1

The backpacking trip from Kintla Lake to Bowman Lake over Boulder and Brown Passes is one of the most spectacular in Glacier National Park.  We didn’t know if we’d see anything with all the fires, but we were signed up to do mountain goat, loon, and pika surveys for Glacier’s Citizen Science Program, so we decided to brave the smoke.

Still Waters, my old (hiking) partner from way back when, drove up from Colorado to visit.   

I was also backpacking for the first time with D., another citizen science volunteer who would be showing me how to do the pika surveys.

Kintla and Bowman Lakes are tucked away in far northwestern part of Glacier National Park.  The unpaved North Fork Road out there is notorious for being washboarded out— but it keeps this area quiet and preserves the experience.  We drove out the night before our backpacking trip to car camp at Bowman Lake.

Hanging out at Bowman Lake Campground

The smoke was thick above Kintla and Upper Kintla Lake.  Fortunately, it didn’t interfere as much with our surveys but at times it felt like it made it harder to breathe.

Smoky surveys.

We didn't see pikas or hear their characteristic "eek" calls, but we did find their little round scat.  I'm sure you're glad I'm including this exciting photo.

Smoky but still gorgeous views on the Boulder Pass Trail.

Feeling on top of the world at Boulder Pass.

For the excitement on our second night...  See Part 2...

Swiftcurrent Lookout

Upward, past windblown trees, above treeline, into the clouds.  A land of boulders and screefields.  With limited visibility, I have no sense of how far I have left to get to the summit. 

There is just the cold.

How will I count mountain goats in these clouds and smoke?  I didn’t know, but Swiftcurrent Lookout is my survey site for Mountain Goat Days, an annual event for Glacier’s Citizen Science Program.  Volunteers around the park cover as many of the 37 goat survey sites over the weekend.

I brace against the wind, put raingear over my long underwear and down coat, and keep climbing.  How do mountain goats thrive on these steep, towering peaks in the middle of winter?  This is only August.

I am surprised to see someone inside the firetower.  The volunteer who mans the fire lookout takes pity on me when I tell him I am here for Mountain Goat Days.  He invites me inside, saying the weather will clear out at any moment.

Showing me how the firefinder is used to triangulate fires.

I listen as he checks in with the other firetowers up and down the continental divide.  I try to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, but curiosity sometimes gets the better of me.  I flip through his books as a I wait, and listen to his stories, feeling very lucky to have met him.  A patch of blue sky appears only to close up the next moment. 

“Just keep waiting,” he says. 

So I wait.

Leaving.

Three hours later, he leaves to resupply in town after his 14 day stay at the tower.  He has been volunteering here for 7 or 8 years.  “The weather will lift at any minute,” he says as he departs, “Don’t give up on your survey.”

Waiting and watching.

I am alone on the top of the mountain in swirling clouds.  Fingers and toes succumb to the cold, growing numb as they do.  I wait another hour.

Cliff faces materialize out of the clouds. 

Being able to see forever from Swiftcurrent Lookout.  Everything is beautiful. I can count mountain goats.

How many mountain goats could be tucked away behind all these peaks and rocks?  How can I hope to see them?

On the way back down, it becomes impossible to imagine the cold of a few hours ago.  Change happens so quickly, it takes your breath away.

More information

Glacier National Park's Citizen Science Program
Swiftcurrent Lookout