Glacier Park is a game of give and take. The month of May is all take.

When I finish my week of Red Bus training and drive over to the East side to claim my cabin and drop gear for the summer, I have to at least try to score some kind of hike.  Regardless of the weather.  And this time, I think I overplayed my hand.

When I moved in on Friday night, it was snowing at the cabin, so the weekend forecast did not look all that encouraging. But I think it was spot-on for what would be normal in the middle of May on an average year.

The Many Glacier Hotel is bringing in the first of an army of staff required to bring that beast of a facility out of hibernation. It is an amazing feat, only matched by the time it takes to be put back to sleep after only three months of operation.

This makes facilities like Swiftcurrent feel less mighty and majestic, almost overlooked, and sad. All they need are a few J-1 foreign students to pull the shutters off the doors and windows, kick out the pack rats, and voila! Tourist ready!

Iceberg Lake looks unusually deep, cold, and more isolated than usual back in that giant cirque.

But I’m seeing some sky here and there, so figure let’s go ahead and give it a chance.  Nothing else to do today.  And a great place to do nothing at all if I wanted to.

Grinnell Point appeared almost intimidating.  There were even windswept cornices up on the top.  It reminds me that even the easy peaks in Glacier get their ass handed to them with the fierce snow and wind of winter.

The headwall of the Swiftcurrent Valley was magnificent.  Even more so now, since for all intents and purposes, the pass was clearly unreachable (regardless of what kind of snow gear you had).

There was a lot of fresh snow on the trail out to Iceberg Lake, and the skies around it kept swirling with snow and anger.  As if just waiting to unleash up on the right person.  And for some reason, I felt like the right person today.

Even the normally unintimidating Bullhead Point looked like the headwall of some massif deep in the secluded Russian Urals.

And surprisingly, the subtle often ignored Grinnell Mtn took on a Matterhorn persona that would make you think twice before trying to ascend.

After the split with the Ptarmigan tunnel trail, my path turns to all snow.  A good six inches of fresh accumulation on the old hardpack.  I was glad to be wearing my full Gortex gaiters now.  But not feeling the need for snowshoes.  At least not yet.

This weather just wouldn’t shake.  The trees were flocked with damp new snow.  The sun would pop out for a minute, and then I would be in the chill of a blowing snow flurry.  Too hot or too cold, with nothing in between.

I was still a ways out when the post-holing started. From the tracks, I could tell there was a party of two or three in front of me. I was wise to sleep in a little and have a late start. I normally like to beat others onto the trail in the morning, but sometimes, it is better to let them MAKE the trail for ME.

Last year spring was three weeks early.  From what I’m understanding now, that was rare.  This season it seems to be right on time.  And the snowpack (at least down in the valley bottoms) was only about 65% of normal.

The snow flurries were coming more and more often.  I had to remind myself that I was less than a mile away as the crow flies from the Continental Divide.  If you want unstable weather, this is the place to be.

It was amazing how isolated this valley felt during the early season. It was like being a million miles from the next living person. It is hard to believe this trail can literally see up to 2000 hikers per day during peak summer months. 

Iceberg Lake surely gets loved to death in this intense annual cycle of love and destruction, all within such a tiny window.

I passed the other party coming out—the creators of the 12-inch-deep steps I had been following. Their jeans and tennis shoes were soaked and frozen up to the hip. They were just miserable.

The guy said he was from Chicago, and they made it to the lake. The girl said nothing and just kept plowing through the snow to the trailhead.  Been there.  Done that.

The steps they cut that I was following approached the lake a lot lower than the ascent line I normally follow.  When the regular path is still buried under the snow, you can go anywhere without impact. I didn’t really want to make the effort to break my own path to my preferred route. Yep, I’m taking the easy out this time.

Then I found the error in being a follower.  The couple’s tracks stopped at the lower melt pond of the lake.  They had dropped in too low (as I thought) and never reached their goal.  To correct this, I would have to gain about another 300 feet and posthole (on my own) about a quarter mile.  Maybe 45 minutes in this gooey mess of water and ice.

Then something very fortunate happens.  My phone battery was at 5%.  Hmmmm.  That means no video.  No photos of the lake locked in winter.  No proof for bragging rights as the first person of the season.  Just enough power for one selfie, of me just short of the goal.

Perfect.  I was good with that.  The snow kept dropping, and there would be no views.  The lake would be frozen over anyway.  Best yet, I would NOT create the steps for the unworthy to follow.  Iceberg Lake would be a hard-won victory for a true, wise, hiker this season.

Instead, I make the journey back to the trailhead. I enjoy a very rare but wonderful near empty parking lot at Swiftcurrent.  If you have ever been there in the summertime, you know this is like petting a unicorn.

I also took a moment to admire the snow on Mt. Henkel as it loomed over the Swiftcurrent restaurant/lobby/camp store complex.  A simple, long, slender stick building that screams 1950s, but down in its heart of hearts, whispers of humble Depression-era beginnings in the mid-1930s.

At the end of the day, it is good exercise and a tribute to how I can find something special and new on a hike I’ve done so many times I cannot count over nearly four decades.  I am continually amazed and at the new experiences I can find in a place I should have worn out long ago.

GoatBoy out.  This time in a quiet and tranquil kind of way.  🙂