Easy Altyn. Or is it? All great views come with a price.

OK, it’s been a while since I have hiked with actual PEOPLE. Other than those I keep in my head, who seem to get pretty real at times.

Looking back at my hiking logs over the last summer or two, of the nearly 800 miles I have logged in the park, there were only two hikes with other bipedal beings. So, when an opportunity came to break the streak, I took it.

Since I don’t usually call out real names in my blog (not to protect the innocent – but because they just aren’t as fun sounding as the stuff I make up), let’s call them ‘Paterick’ and ‘Joematt.’

I happened to have a day off, as did the Pat-man, and Joe only had a short clock-in until 10 am. By Glacier Park standards, you still have ten hours of daylight to do something productive on the trail. Or, in this case, off the trail.

Joe threw out Altyn Peak. At just under 8,000′ and topped with a red scree dome, it’s not really a peak to get a person fired up. At the same time, early season means you must toughen up the old Jimmy Legs before taking on the real monsters, so a consensus was reached.

Altyn is right on the edge of the Swiftcurrent Valley, directly across from the Many Glacier Hotel. Clearly, it is climbed by a LOT of summer employees because of the number of scree trails coming off the saddle. Even when going up the usual descent route, it should be a simple walk in the park.

I was trying to think when I was up on this peak last. It has been a very very long time. Probably since before I got married, so at least thirty years ago. I love how time flies, and life marches on. But these mountains never change.

The views of the local surroundings (including the Many Glacier Hotel) slowly expand into view and bring back many great (and some not-so-great) memories of decades gone by.

As we rise above the grassy slopes one step at a time, I remember how this peak has some of the most commanding views of the Swiftcurrent Valley. I also remember that the route we are taking will gain just a little over 3,000 feet in just over a mile and a half. A statistic I had forgotten until this morning. Ouch.

From up here, I can see down the Many Glacier Valley as well, all the way to Piegan Pass and beyond to the Garden Wall and Continental Divide.

We start to transition into the consolidated scree slopes. Joe keeps a steady line and marches straight up this escalator of rolling rock. I try to skirt more to the West to take advantage of more secured footing along the base of some cliffs. And Pat, he just goes straight up and between some jumble of giant blocks and is lost forever.

From left to right, Lake Sherburne, Swiftcurrent Lake, and just the leading edge of Lake Josephine. Great sun today. But what you can’t see is the wind. And it did carry a real spring-like chill.

One of the few hikes I’ve done in sunny weather when my hands still froze despite wearing gloves. Clearly, it’s a day for layers up high and shedding down low.

The saddle before the last little push to the summit was beautiful—late-season snow accented by the bright red scree of the Grinnell argillite. I was just popping with the cerulean blue of the spring sky and wispy cottony clouds.

It has been a long time indeed. I was in my twenties, still with fresh knees, endless goals, and dreams that could still be realized. I smile when I look at Henkel and Ryton Point off to its right.

With only about 500 yards more to traverse (and considerable effort as the lactic acid started creeping into the leg muscles), we fought the invisible but heavy wind to reach the actual summit. It’s a nice little 3-hour walk-up on a calm day. A face-chilling, breath-stealing experience, with an invisible howling banshee that refused to be captured in photos.

I panned around 360 and soaked in the glory that can be Glacier Park (when the Park chooses to give and not take). A lot of memories came flooding back from the past.

This old familiar landscape is so etched into my mind as if by that stupid bird in the caveman camera of the Fred Flintstone cartoons.

Swiftcurrent Glacier and that nearly endless chain of lakes with the unique but ever-present mudstone that had been oxidized in an ancient inland see so many hundreds of millions of years ago.

But all of that wind was driving some weather. One of those little squalls breaking across the continental divide was just itching to soak some wayward hiker staying on a peak too high and too long.

At the same time, it was funny how every valley seemed to have its own weather today. They are so close together and yet such separate environments regarding who is getting soaked and who is staying dry. Of course, the bears don’t really care.

I shot a little video up here, as is in my nature. For some reason, Pat and Joe ran off to the end of the summit ridge, muttering something like ‘respect the selfie stick.’ I can only assume there is some kind of hiking code that says when someone pulls out that stick, run away because they don’t want you in the shot.

Which is funny because that is typically what I want. In this case, I was looking for background comments from the peanut gallery like that on Cataract Peak. But I’m not used to hiking with people. So, I guess next time, I will have to be more vocal on what I’m looking for in a given shot.

But anyway, here is a live view from atop Altyn, which has a massive summit cairn (that was NOT there during my last summit in the early 1990s).

Time to start back down. Pat and Joe are just flying across the scree slopes. I take my time, as I am fond of what little cartilage is left in my knees.

On the descent, we see a grizzly bear crossing the route we took up. So now it is time to improvise and take in a little terra incognito.

We give the bear several hundred yards of space and choose a section of forest that looks a little less deadly and a little less brushy. I like to keep as much skin on my shins as possible, not as much into bushwacking as in my youth.

But the sky grows angry, and we will get wet. It’s time to pay for those views on top. But such a small price in the grand scheme of things.

But you know Dave. One final sunbeam lands on a blooming Beargrass. They are popping early this season.

I just had to take the time to breathe and capture the moment. No matter how often I go into these mountains, I always find something new.

Less than four miles total round trip. Hmmmmmm. But surprisingly satisfying. Maybe this entire summer may be about more than miles? We will see how it all plays.

GoatBoy out!