Trail of Blue Ice

Hey Tribe!

Rarely ever is the weather pleasant in Portage: it is either rainy, windy, cold, or all three, but never sunny and warm.  Well, there’s a first for everything and TheMother, Fly, and I happened to be in Portage during just such a weather anomaly.

Turnagain Arm

The Trail of Blue Ice has been on our “must hike” list for a few years now, but we’ve always put off the aptly named trail, because of lack of enthusiasm for hiking in rainy coldness.  However, it is an ideal trail for our Spain preparations, since we need to test our gear whilst hiking in rain, so we packed our packs, complete with gloves, polar fleece, ponchos, and rain jackets and headed south to Portage.

To our amazement, the day continued to be lovely even as we neared the notoriously tempestuous destination.  We parked at the visitor’s center, where a large iceberg stoically greeted us just off the rocky lakeshore.

Eagerly we began our hike.  The snowy mountains were made even more blindingly bright in the sunshine when set against the pure sky and I was glad to have both sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat.  We heard the booming, echoing report of an avalanche across the valley – not surprising with the heat of the day and the composition of the deeply layered snow that covered the glaciers and slopes.

Fly panted in the hot (50*F) temperature and greedily scooped mouthfuls of snow that clung to patches of the trail in shady places.  Scene supplanted scene as we easily trekked along on asphalt, dirt, gravel, and boardwalks. 

Our surroundings changed so frequently it would have been impossible to get bored, even for the most jaded of hikers.

Fancy arched bridges crossed merry streams that will be chocked full of mature salmon come late summer.

Campsites appeared periodically along the trail and we could smell campfires and delicious breakfasts being cooked as we quietly passed along the path.

Ok, we weren't always quiet: here Fly found a squirrel and barked eagerly at it to come play.

Our favorite section of the trail was a quiet, shady place where large trees grew and thick, vibrant green moss carpeted the ground.  Sunshine softly filtered down and gave a golden glow to the ceiling of branches, so that we stood in awe for several minutes.

A bit further and we stood at the base of an avalanche run.  It was easy to see layers of past avalanches that had cascaded tumultuously down and ended in a giant fan.  Fly was thrilled to clamber up onto the snowbank to cool her paws and quench her thirst, but I didn’t let her roam for fear of her accidentally falling into a hidden trench or some other avoidable danger.  Sorry, not sorry, I’m a killjoy.

Finally, we made it to the end of the trail where picnic benches around a lake greeted our weary legs.  We lunched on meat and cheese rolls and pringles and lounged on the wooden bench.  Fly took a wade into the lake, which turned into an impromptu swim when the bank dropped away sharper than she expected.

Rejuvenated by our picnic, we popped chocolate in our mouths (Fly got a morsel of her beef snack, not the chocolate) and turned back from whence we’d come to begin the return trek along the same trail.  The sights were familiar, but the mountains that had been behind us were now, obviously, in front and afforded us a different set of views.

Fly ran free along one glacial fed lake to chase some ducks in the sparkling water.  She found another squirrel that she was loath to leave behind as we resumed our homeward journey.

There were many more people along the trail during our return and everyone appeared to be appreciating the wonderful spring afternoon just as much as we were.  The great big iceberg, complete with a quaint little waterfall pouring off it’s side from the warmth of the day, greeted us in Portage Lake as we wandered back to the now crowded visitor parking lot; though we had greatly enjoyed our 14 mile round trip jaunt, we were very happy to remove our burdensome packs and call it a good day.

I would like to hike this trail again later in the summer, when the snow has melted from the mountains: the many glaciers that perch and hang from the peaks are uncovered from their snowy blankets and give credence to the name, Trail of Blue Ice.