Rainbow without Rain? Today, the sun is on the inside!

Origin Date: 8/28/25

Although the weather looks pretty iffy, I want to try someone new. Hug the shore on each side. Find more hidden treasures. And see if I could catch any wildlife taking refuge from the rain. My goal was to take my time, observe, and uncover new experiences.

It was a rainy day, but not cold. And the water was actually pretty decent. Ended up spending over seven hours on my big aqua playground in just over twelve miles. I must be finally getting my kayak legs. My average heart rate was only 74 bpm.

Of course, why take a picture when I can give you twenty seconds of live? It was a pleasant sound, the pitter-patter of the drops on the calm lake.  

Then it really started dumping, so I beached the craft near Dead Horse Point and found a dry area under some low-hanging alders. Although right under the Sun Road, it was usually quiet. Yep, sunshine tourists don’t like driving 20 miles to Logan Pass with no hope of views. Even with the guaranteed parking that comes on a day like this!

Goat Mtn was looking sad and alone. The forest was quiet. Probably no wildlife today. The berries came in early, but on really wet days, the fauna likes to hunker down and conserve warmth and energy. No fun to forage in a wet forest when your belly is on the full side.

I continued down the lake until the next band of sky-water hits me. This time, I pulled up at the little cove at the bottom of the Sun Point rock outcropping. Found a nice dry spot to hang out just under some dense mountain firs.

This is the exact same cove where the GNRR unloaded all of the supplies for the Sun Colony Chalet complex. A half dozen buildings with 200-plus guests per night. There was a lot of traffic on this beach in the 1920s.

Some supplies came in by pack horse, but the majority were landed right here and had to be packed 150 feet uphill. Supplies for hundreds of guests, employees, horse wranglers, etc., meant that a boat landed at least once a day in season.

Back out on the water, I continue to the head of St Mary. Picking up a little chop, but very manageable. Although the pictures look horrible, once the rain backed off, it was almost pleasant. Very quiet, as the birds were quiet as well in this weather.

No sun to heat the valleys, so the mist is going to stick around for the duration of the day. The clouds are just touching the summit of Mt Reynolds at Logan Pass, so the ceiling is capped at about 9,000 feet for this dreary day.

The rain seems to be valley-specific. Any hikers on Siyeh Pass are getting showers, while the lake is now staying relatively dry. Looks like I chose wisely today.

But I spoke too soon. There was plenty of rain to go around after all. Everyone would get their fair share of liquid love from above. I found another nice niche to get out for a stretch. This time, a cluster of pines kept me nice and dry. I was clearly the only person foolish enough to go out on the lake today.

There were no moose in the estuaries. I made sure of that before I entered. There was that sense of calm that I originally felt the first time I was back in here a couple of months ago. Every day can’t be sunshine, but if you try real hard, you find that sometimes you don’t need it.

My surroundings were muted. Quiet and surreal. I’ve been spoiled with so much color during my prior outings on St Mary. But I knew this day was coming. No rainbow and sparkles, summer can’t last forever. I’m clearly on the backside of the season, and it’s been a good one.

There is a lot of yellow along the shoreline. Amazing how fast the colors change here. We just had one freeze about a week ago, and that is all it takes at these higher elevations. Winter is coming.

These jagged mountains are normally so red from the Grinnell formation talus that paints their slopes. Red Eagle, Mahtotopa, and Little Chief look and feel so despondent. Almost desolate and forlorn. Abandoned.

I do one last pit stop at Silver Dollar Beach before the final push to the boat dock and the Delica. Been trying to shake a little chill the entire day. Times like this, I do miss that hot tub at home that I’m paying to heat and can’t use for four months out of the year.

A huge mountain ash that was loaded with berries. Ripe and red. I’ve only seen them clustered in groves or in complete solitude like this one.

The final leg. The sun stayed on top of the clouds today. This might be my last trip on the water. Only have a week left in the season, and it’s time to start packing for my return to the real world. It’s always about this time that I start asking myself, ‘What is the “real” world?’

GoatBoy out! Hoping for one more trip to end the season on a high note.

And Patrick sucks. Although back in 2021, I heard he could make 20 beds in a shift, take a nap in the last one, and still be the employee of the month.