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.

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.

Gunsight Pass

A classic overnight backpack in Glacier National Park- Gunsight Pass.  WITH FRIENDS!

Hitchhiking from McDonald Lodge to Jackson Glacier Overlook.

Deadwood Falls.  We hypothesize that they have given the prettiest places in Glacier unattractive names for the purpose of trying to decrease visitation.

One at a time.

Just as we were wondering what makes a glacier different from a snowfield, we meet three volunteers who can answer our question: glacier MOVE, and are greater than 25 acres.

If gale force winds weren’t making us feel unstable enough, remains from a recent snowfall keep us conscious of gravity.

Why are the rocks so many colors?  No geologists showed up to answer this question, unfortunately.  Will need to research geology references for this area.  Anyone have recommendations?

Having trouble fitting all this NATURE into my camera.

"Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower." -Albert Camus

Folded strata of Gunsight Mountain.

Switchbacking down the cirque to Lake Ellen Wilson campsite.

Habituated mountain goats circle our campsite during the night and brush against tents/ tarps, seeking salt from our urine and sweat.

Another camper reported being stalked by goats on his 3 AM trip to the privy.  He joked about it in the morning, but said it wasn’t funny when he was in the pitch dark wearing only his boxer shorts!

Overall, this was a gorgeous hike and I'm delighted to return to Lake Ellen Wilson after my first "failed" attempt to camp here.  Much better this time with friends. 

More on mountain goats
Reading Chadwick's A Beast the Color of Winter, has given me a much better understanding of the goats.

Read Glacier National Park mountain goat action plan here.

Here is another article about the habituated goats in Washington with more about why they are attracted to urine. 

Do your part around habituated goats-- try to pee in the privy, and if not be sure to pee on rocks (to prevent goats from digging up plants).

Harrison Lake in Glacier

My original plan had been to hike in the Bob, or a section of the CDT in Montana.  But with all the fires, I can't figure out where to go that isn't closed.  Smoke is thick and I can't think straight and I just want to be hiking.  So off for another mountain goat and loon citizen science survey in Glacier National Park, because at least that way I'll know I'm doing something worthwhile.

10 AM 
I see him before he sees me.  I say hey bear and he runs off.  I like that.  It is reassuring that not all bears here in Montana are bossy and bold like that one from the Highline.

Doing loon and mountain goat surveys for Glacier's Citizen Science Program.

4:40 PM
At the head of Harrison Lake, one adult loon is swimming and diving.  I record the time and location on my survey sheet.  Then, I loose sight of him. Where could he have gone?

5:03 PM
At the mountain goat survey site, I see no mountain goats.

5:34 PM
Still no mountain goats.  Oh well.  I tried.

6:46 PM
Back near the campsite, on the shore of the lake, looking for the loon again.  Instead, a moose on the far shore perks its ears, looks around, and walks into the water.  It’s swimming!  Then, it starts swimming in my direction.  Do you know how fast moose swim?  Why is the moose swimming towards me?

That speck is a moose and it's getting closer.

I get scared when I remember stories I've been told of aggressive moose.  I don't know anything about moose.  Was it just out for a dip to cool off?  Or was it coming to check me out?  Are they territorial?  What are you suppose to do if you encounter a moose?

I dart back to my campsite and hide in my hammock.  Maybe it won’t find me. 

Nothing bad has ever gotten through my camo cuben fiber fortress.

7:26 PM
I feel silly being afraid of a moose, so I creep back down to the lake.  The moose is still swimming but now down-lake, making a wide circle back to the far shore.  It leaps up on the bank and disappears into the brush.

8:12 PM
The lake grows calm as the sun goes down.  Mating dragonflies buzz by.  Everything is beautiful and eerie.

Smoke hangs low between the mountains.

8:25 PM
Why aren't there other people here?  I’ve see no one else all day.  Isn’t this suppose to be the height of tourist season in Glacier National Park?

This is only my third solo backpacking trip in Montana.  Last year I camped countless nights solo on the PCT solo.  Why does it feel so uncomfortable to be solo out here?  I wish Arizona were here.  I wish anyone were here.  I wish I had other hiking friends in Montana.  I wish this place weren't so freakin gorgeous and wild.  That the views didn't bring me to tears and the climbs didn’t make my heart sing.  I wish this place didn't make me FEEL so much passion and longing and heart wrenching fear.  I wish I weren't so curious to learn Montana’s secrets: why the moose swims, where to goats are, where the loon disappears to.

I climb into my hammock.  Everything smells like dirty hiker.  It is the same stuff I had on the PCT.  My long underwear has holes from when I got scared going down Glen Pass and slid on my butt.  I sigh at how many times I've been scared.  Why do I keep putting myself in situations where I'm so uncomfortable?

12:00 Midnight
I awake to breaking branches and rustling too big to be a chipmunk.  It’s getting closer so I try not to breathe.  Images of the bear and moose swirl in my head.  Please don't let claws slice through my tarp.  The rustling moves past.  My watch says exactly midnight, how horror movie corny. 

12:43 AM
I remain awake listening to the silence.  Trying to convince myself the sounds are a large bunny, plump with huckleberries.  Being out here alone makes life vivid and real.  I have to quiet the fears, trust my instincts, tune into this place.  I count the sounds around me, slow my pulse, pull my quilts around me, and fall asleep again.

After surviving encounters with bears, moose, dragonflies, and loons, my last feat is to ford the mighty Middle Fork of the Flathead River.

5:30 AM
I realize with the clarity of morning that the battle is "Joan vs Joan's Fears" rather than "Joan vs Beasts".  What's scary is the prospect of giving up on Montana, of finding it too exhausting to be in the home of these large (and small) creatures, or of deciding it's not worth pushing beyond the comfort zone.

For more information 
Harrison Lake in Glacier National Park: Pick up directions to the ford from the backcountry permit office in Apgar.  From the ford, it is a brushy 6.3 miles to the Harrison Lake campground, following the Boundary Trail and then turning off onto the Harrison Creek Trail.  Permits are required.  Walk-in permits are easy to come by when there are fires everywhere.

Check out Glacier’s Citizen Science Program. 

Sperry Glacier

Despite my love for planning, I’ve noticed that knowing the exact elevation profile and trail description takes away the sense of discovery.  What would it be like to be an explorer? 

           “I’m going up to Sperry Glacier.  I will be back tonight” I text my friend/ emergency contact.
           “How many miles is that?”
           “No idea!”

In a rare departure from my usual way of through planning and reading every trail description, this trip I just set out with just a topo map of Glacier National Park.  I skipped the trail descriptions and looking at guidebooks and blog posts and photos.  I just knew it would involve climbing.  Which I love.

I passed by deep blue lakes and mountain goats-- didn't expect any of this!

There were more lakes right before the pass.  I couldn't believe the colors!

Since I didn't read the trail description, this part was a complete surprise. 

When I got up the stairs... The expression says it all...  I'm excited about EVERYTHING.

I scrambled around on the rocks for a while.  Totally made me feel like I was a real explorer.

The glacier was so huge... like GLACIAL huge.

One the way back down, I tagged along with this women's hiking club for a while, as we passed by the mountain goats.

I liked that by traveling in this more unplanned way, free of expectations and someone else's trip descriptions, some things remained a surprise until I got there.  I could do a more challenging hike that stretched my abilities.  I could meet the terrain with a clear mind.  A refreshing way to experience a trail.


Of course, I’m not recommending skipping the plan ahead and prepare step altogether!  Assess trail conditions and be able to find a hike that is at your skill level.  But for me, studying the topo lines on my map showed this trip suited my skill level, and I felt comfortable enough to skip the trail statistics and hike description.  Going off-trail would have been a different story—I don’t do that in Glacier when I’m solo.  But for established trails, I am confident in my ability to gain significant elevation.  I'm just advocating a slightly different approach to planning, to keep things fresh.  See what works for you!

About this hike
Started at Lake McDonald Lodge, climbed to Sperry Chalet, and then took the Sperry Glacier Trail over Comeau Pass.  Most people don't do this all in one day cause it turns out that it's over 5000 feet elevation gain.*  This website tells how to break it down.

* But if you don't know this in advance, I totally think it really wasn't that bad.  But then again, that could be the reason that I have trouble finding (and keeping) hiking buddies.

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