Yet another lake I love to hate – Avalanche.  But this time, it was all love.

Avalanche Lake is one of the (if not the most) visited trails in GNP. It is literally loved to death. It is beat daily until the gate is closed when winter comes. Even then, people will still try to ski in and not let this lovely body of water rest.

On any given day, starting at dawn’s first light until dusk’s long shadows, you will find dozens/hundreds of people on the shoreline. A lot of selfies, family shots, yoga poses, and people doing that stupid heart crap with their hands. And don’t start me on the social influencer smiles.

Parking is always a nightmare at any time of the season. When giving tours and passing this highly congested area, I would always find a traffic jam, as cars would just park on the road with their blinkers on, waiting for a spot to open up.

But I need a nice early morning stretch. With all the road paving going on outside LML, I don’t want to get caught up in a 20-minute delay both coming and going. So, it looks like I’ll give Avalanche a try.

Although I hate early morning starts in bear country when hiking solo, this isn’t really what I would call a hike. Only about five miles round with less the 1000 feet of gain. It’s such a busy corridor of humanity. No woodland creature worth their fur or in their right mind would come with miles. Right?

So I’m up a little after 5a.m. and at the trailhead by 5:30 a.m. After all, it is only six miles down the road from the Lake McDonald Lodge (and my employee dorm), so I fire up the Dodge for the short trip.

This looks promising. I guess Avalanche Lake is not worthy of the 5 a.m. hiking window? I wait for another vehicle to show up just to confirm the world has not ended and to abate any apocalyptic fears. Then, I hit the trail hard and fast, knowing I should be the only one out there. I strapped TWO bear spray canisters to my pack’s hip belt, naturally.

To try and squeeze in that extra 1/4 mile, I take the Trail of the Cedars nature walk. Of course, having lived for over twenty years in the Pacific Northwest of WA state, I could care less about a rainforest. But my boots did make a nice klunk klunk on a very soundly built ADA-compliant cedar boardwalk.

It was actually kind of a pleasant way to wake up to the day. I crossed the lake’s outlet stream, and was treated to a wonderful miniature Hobbit-like gorge. With greeny waterfalls and that turquoise rock flour glacial milkshake stuff that is so common across GNP’s lakes and streams.

I had to hedge my bets with a final selfie. Just in case there was a wild animal waiting for me and I was going to die on a silly and easy hike. Or get hit by a school bus.

I started seeing a lot of winter storm debris in the flowing waters. There is still a lot of melt coming. I am not sure if the water level ever makes it up to the trail during a normal run-off year.

But I do know that these confiers don’t do very well with saturated root systems.

It looked like many of the braided stream beds that handle rare to occasional overflow from the main outlet were flowing high and swift as temperatures warmed this early May.

As I travel, I’m starting to see the appeal of this hike. Especially to city dwellers or those who don’t get out of the concrete jungle. And all of those other paradises that have been paved for a parking lot.

I start to get a little more light, and the morning is coming alive. I can always tell I’m first on the trail when I walk through spiderwebs and have to brush those invisible threads off my face as I pass.

One thing about spring in Glacier Park. You can chase the waterfalls to your heart’s delight. Especially in the spring.

The lake is quiet, reflective, and calm. The temperatures are in the high 40s, and the sun should be coming onto the peaks momentarily.

I have never seen, let alone been, on this shoreline when no people were here. It feels almost kind of eerie. A little spooky. Or maybe that’s how it is suppose to be.

Then come the first rays of the day. They won’t find their way down into this deep cirque to hit the lake for several hours. The air stays cold and damp.

I’m impressed. The silence is incredible. I watch a bald eagle on the far shore, perched high on a dead snag. Every now and then, it glides over the water with such tragic confidence. Even I know there won’t be a fish moving anytime soon.

What would a hike be without a little GoatBoy social commentary?

The Sperry Glacier complex feeds Avalanche Lake on the backside of Gunsight Mtn. None of that can be seen from the lake. This giant headwall once held an equally mighty glacier, from any of a dozen previous ice ages. Many people don’t know that Glacier Park has been glaciated many times over.

The snow still clings to the far north shoulder of Mt Cannon. We are only about a month out from the longest day of the year. The sun will find that patch soon enough and carry it into the Lake McDonald valley.

This hike really surprised me. I’ve been hiking in Glacier Park for almost 40 years, since 1985. I always avoid this because being the most popular in the Park, Avalanche crawls with visitors every waking moment until the harsh winter brings peaceful slumber.

So when I found the entire lake to myself (and that one bald eagle) on a perfect early May morning, I captured a little of the Zen moment. There was only the sound of waterfalls and bird calls, the subtle ripple on the surface welcoming a new day. Probably the most tranquil 20 minutes I have experienced in my life.

I took my leave when the tourists started appearing. With a grin so big it put a little tear in the corner of my eye.

GoatBoy out!