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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
