Icy Renewal

August 31, 2010

Nights 62 and 63 – Rising Sun and Lake Ellen Wilson.

Gunsight!

I wandered the St. Mary valley in search of renewal this weekend. My eyes needed to be greeted by happier eyes and my soul needed something fresh. Did you ever notice how a place has the ability to lift you up, yet, simultaneously make you feel significantly insignificant. Glacier does this to most who cross her path – and to most, this is extraordinarily comforting.

I camped at Rising Sun under a star lit night sky. I cooked good food on my stove and drank dark coffee, clenching my mug for heat. It’s been cool here lately. On my way to work today, it was a mere 41 degrees. Days are getting shorter and the soupy clouds are rolling in.

On Saturday I walked to the lovely Lake Ellen Wilson. Gunsight lake was placid, the walls were crooked as usual, and ice fields were severely exposed.

Blackfoot Glacier Basin

Gunsight Lake

I frog hopped a few groups on my way to the pass. The sky was turning shades of blue, as the wind began to hollow. ‘Those’ story telling clouds were above me and I knew it would be an unforgiving night in Glacier’s wilderness. As I sat in the hiker shelter on top of the pass, I drank hot tea that I had stowed in my thermos that morning. I imagined wintery rains – blustery winds and the possibility of snow. Ironically, these thoughts warmed my heart.

From the Ellen Wilson Rock

Lake Ellen Wilson - August 29 snow storm

I woke to snow on the tent. I decided an early climb out of this alpine lake would suit me well.

As I switchbacked into the basin below Sperry Glacier, I met someone on the trail. Dashing in and out of the wet soil, logs, and rocks – he finally caught my eye and gave me a stare I won’t soon forget. I stood as still as could be, hoping he wouldn’t lose my trust. I barely smiled and he darted behind a tree. My eyes were greeted by his kind pupils again, and again. To my surprise he followed me down the next three switchbacks mimicking my stride as if it were choreographed. I turned again to greet my companion and he had disappeared. I waited, hoping he might reappear – hoping it was just another step in the hide and seek routine, but he was gone.

I laughed at his playfulness and I, too, began dancing on the trail. My head tilted to the sky, my face caught a dozen intermittent refreshing flakes of snow.

My Trail Companion