Month: September 2023

On to Old Man Lake

Traveling to Old Man Lake would be another bucket list journey. We had seen a segment of Dawson Pass Trail, between Flinsch Peak and Mt. Morgan, from Old Man Lake for the first time in 2008 when we were too exhausted to continue our journey from the lake up to Pitamakan Pass and on to Triple Divide Pass far to the west. This time we attacked from the south, up to Dawson Pass and along the trail going north. The map and Google Earth view are copied here for reference.

Red circle around Continental Divide Trail which we were on from Pitamakan Pass on
An aerial view from Google Earth

Packing up after an uneventful night, we continued to talk about our fantastic experiences at No Name Lake as we looked up ahead, literally, at what awaited us during this pristine mountain morning. Within an hour or so hiking through the forest at a relatively gentle incline, we had our first encounter as we passed within a hundred feet or so of a pair of young black bears frolicking in the woods nearby. They didn’t seem to notice us, but we immediately set watch for a mother bear, just in case. She never showed. We added this to our story list and continued onward, reminiscing even more about our good backpacking fortune.

Clearing the upper woodlands, we continued a long, open, stretch of uphill hiking as we approached Dawson Pass. The views were amazing!

Section from No Name Lake to Dawson Pass
Looking back at Two Medicine on the way to Dawson Pass – Photo by KAJ
Dawson Pass – Looking Southwest – Photo by KAJ
Dawson Pass – Looking Northwest – Forest fire smoke in the air – Photo by KAJ

The stretch from Dawson Pass west of Flinsch Peak was treacherous for me. It may be hard to believe, but I have mild Acrophobia. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment! The trail was about a foot to 18″ wide, basically crushed rock on a extremely steep rock scree. Looking right, Flinsch Peak loomed high above. To the left, a drop of nearly three thousand feet at what is about a seventy percent slope! As usual, my son took the lead. I noticed him looking back often as I lagged behind, stopping multiple times to maintain my equilibrium.

Dawson Pass to Mt. Morgan

We got a relative respite between Flinsch Peak and Mt. Morgan, overlooking Old Man Lake from the west. It also gave us a preview of the steep decent from Pitamakan down to Old Man Lake!

View of Old Man Lake from Dawson Pass Trail – Photo by KAJ
Looking West from Dawson Pass Trail – Photo by KAJ

Acrophobia trials continued as we hiked to the west of Mt. Morgan where we reached another amazing vista point as we made the turn to the north side of Mt. Morgan, and more steep scree hiking!

Turning the “corner” at Mt. Morgan – Photo by DBJ

That’s as close as I was willing to get to the edge. I’d had about enough Acrophobia!

Mt. Morgan to Pitamakan Pass

The stretch from the Northeast side of Mt. Morgan near Cut Bank Pass to Pitamakan Pass was relatively gentle compared to what we had experienced the previous few hours. We were greeted by some mountain goats sunning on the rocks and got a good view of Pitamakan Lake as we approached the pass.

Pitamakan Lake and Pitamakan Pass approaching from the west – Photo by KAJ

Now it’s on down to Old Man Lake. Though the drop is only about 500 feet, the trail was much longer as we hiked the steep decline along the trail cut into the side of the mountain. We had stared up at this section, the trail, and the peaks from Old Man Lake in 2008 when we chose not to continue our cross-Glacier trek and turned around at Old Man Lake. Personally, I was happy to have traversed Pitamakan Pass!

Flinsch Peak from the trail down to Old Man Lake – Photo by DBJ

Old Man Lake campground, which consists of six dispersed tent sites, is about 200 yards and 50 feet up from the lake. After setting camp, we ventured to the lake for a water refill. Ah yes, that last 15 feet down to the lake. Quite steep and rocky. Not so fun after a strenuous day of backpacking!

After an uneventful night, we headed back to the water for another fill up and some fishing, only to find that a large rock, just above the water’s edge, had been displaced overnight. It could only mean one thing; a bear had turned the stone in search of grubs! Fortunately, we saw neither grubs nor bear. I enjoyed some camera work while my sone fished.

Moon setting over Dawson Pass Trail – Photo by KAJ
Look close to see the fly line laying on the still water – Photo by KAJ
Flinsch Peak on the left. What an amazing place!!! – Photo by KAJ

As I recall, my son caught a large trout shortly after this pic was taken and my camera was stowed away. It was catch and release. We still had a full day of hiking back to Two Medicine.

However, back at Two Medicine, more fishing ensued with some success and a tasty morsel before heading to our next adventure. What great fishing form!

And on we went. Back to a civilized campground with running water, a store with hotdogs and beer, and our car. This segment of the 2015 Glacier backpacking trip was over. On to the next adventure!

Please consider giving this post a “Like” if, in deed you do like it, so I can get an idea if my readers do. This has been only a short annal in a series of backpacking adventures spanning ten years and nine different trips in Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and The Great Smoky Mountains. And I DO like to tell stories! Thanks for reading!

No Name Lake, Glacier National Park

The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go

John Muir

I have a T-shirt printed with that quote. Mine is Yellow Haze. I think of it often when I think of the mountains – which is also often.

Last week included a little change up when I joined my next door neighbor in front of his garage for a chat, instead of at my place. We were discussing fishing in the pond across the street and how the Iowa DNR stocks it with trout. That led the conversation to the trout farms and streams in NE Iowa, which ultimately led to one of my favorite fishing stories; trout fishing at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park Google Earth View. Be sure to zoom out to see it in the mountain context!

Our itinerary was simple and would not extend us too far physically. Just a few days backcountry to No Name and Old Man lakes. It was not the first time for Old Man, but would be a new route coming from the south rather than the east. And though the story is primarily about an afternoon of fishing, it does include interesting accounts from the rest of the trek.

Red circle around Continental Divide Trail which we were on from Pitamakan Pass on
An aerial view from Google Earth

Leaving the campground at Two Medicine Lake we headed west along the north side of the lake where, after about four miles, we veered toward the north side of Pumpelly Pillar heading for No Name Lake.

Heading west toward Pumpelly Pillar and No Name Lake – Photo by KAJ

We enjoyed the campground that afternoon and evening, wandering around on the rocks at the head of the lake near the snow pack and investigating the lake. My son had a close encounter with a yearling black bear while fetching water from the incoming stream. It decided to climb from a tree within a few yards of him. Quite a shock; something he will never forget, but no worse for the experience. Others saw the bear around the grounds that evening and, of course, we kept vigil basically all night. I snapped one of my favorite backcountry pics from the west side (head) of the lake as the sun was setting behind the mountains.

I would be fishing from this spot the following day – Photo by KAJ

An uneventful night woke to a glorious morning in the backcountry. After breakfast we grabbed our four-piece fly rods, reels, and gear, and headed for the lake. Getting around along the shore was no easy matter, with downed trees, rocks, and, worst of all, slippery rocks in the water. Understand that the snow pack feeding this lake was merely a hundred yards from the shore. But we waded in wearing shorts and water shoes, into the nearly freezing water in hopes of a catch.

We were not disappointed! It didn’t take long for either of us to catch our first trout. And they just kept coming. Many were in the 8″ to 10″ range, with some smaller and a couple larger. We realized there was a shelf about 25 yards from shore where the trout would lay wait in the deeps and see the flies near the edge. For them, an apparent feast. For us, pure delight!

I didn’t have my camera with me in the water, so no pics. But we spent several hours wading and catching and releasing the rainbow beauties. Whether we ignored the cold assaulting our legs, or they went numb didn’t matter as we cast our lines over and over, stripping them in with another fish attached. Neither of us realized how sunburnt we got, nor that we hadn’t eaten in hours. It’s difficult to express our continued excitement and delight. But those who know me will understand that we caught so many trout that I didn’t even count them. That, in itself, is testament to the fun we had! It didn’t matter that we didn’t keep any fish nor cook them that evening over an open fire. We had a once-in-a-life experience that we will never forget.

On to Old Man Lake

Stay tuned next week for part two of our 2015 No Name Lake / Old Man Lake Glacier segment.

Boys On Bikes

NOTE: This is not the subject planned for release this week. But the experience is too good not to share. Stay tuned for what will likely be a two-part travel log beginning next week (Sorry, Jan).

A Ray of Hope in a Troubled World

Back in June, when I was in Clear Lake for the Galilean gig, a woman came up to me where I was playing guitar on a park bench at the sea wall to put a $5 bill in my guitar case. I’m a professional! I told her it wasn’t necessary but she dropped it in the case anyway. It is still there as a reminder that what I do matters in some way to others.

On Wednesday of this week I was playing music in the garage as is my usual daily venue, but with the added activity of smoking chicken hind quarters on my Weber. It was after five in the afternoon, the normal time when parents with babies in buggies, parents with dogs, children and adults on motorized skateboards, bicycles, and scooters, all enter and exit the park on the walkway across from my driveway. And though many wave and smile, few stop to listen or interact with me in any other way.

Two boys on bikes were lingering a few hundred feet away on the walkway. Then, here they came, stopping at the street to make sure it was clear of the vehicles that travel much too fast on the long, straight residential street. They appeared to be between 10 and 12 years old. I was still playing as they entered the driveway, talking at me though I could not hear what they said. I finally stopped playing.

Cynical me started thinking of all the things kids might say and do that, frankly, I might have done as a youth. So when the taller, blond boy asked “Do you mind if I ask you something, not trying to be mean?”, my mind began to race. Would he complain about the smoke, or chastise me for using the smoker in the garage? Or would he complain that I was too loud playing, telling me to keep it down, that I might be disturbing those who were taking advantage of the beautiful day in the park. I feigned a smile and said “sure.”

“Would it be okay to give you some money for playing so good?” the boy asked while holding out his hand. The second, shorter, dark-haired boy chimed in to say, “It’s only change, about 45 cents.”

My heart melted as I looked at these two young men sincerely offering to reward my playing with what might be their soda or candy money. Of course, I declined their offer. Thanking them for the gesture. “Just your offer is wonderful. No other payment is necessary. Really, it means a lot to me.”, I said as they mounted their bikes to leave. The blond with the change smiled as they rode away.

I know I am not alone in being too quick to judge others before knowing their hearts. Preconceived notions based on my own ignorance and fear. Somehow I know that my aging has something to do with making it worse. Two young men who might have been here to harass me, instead gave me a huge compliment.

A ray of hope in a troubled world. These two youth (or “yoots(s)” as Joe Pesci would say in My Cousin Vinny) are part of the future of our society, our planet! Maybe not all is lost for them. It is nice to see some good in the midst of the negative news of our day. May yours be also blessed!

On and On Life Goes

The heat has broken. It finally feels like autumn, though still no rain here. It’s been two weeks since returning from Atlanta. Home alone reality is setting in. Pam passed away nearly sixteen months ago. Apparently, life goes on.

If there is a new normal, hopefully this isn’t it. To do lists have many checked boxes. Though there is more to be done before winter sets in. Daily routines are established, varying slightly from week to week for appointments and brief getaways. But the familiarity and comfort of established norms do not stave off the sadness and ache of missing Pam, nor the sorrow of her missing out on life. In some way, it seems the intensity has grown.

So much has been written describing grief, many pictures and animations. One such depiction arrived this week in a text message.

What to make of this? Where’s the fit? If the graphic is accurate, the message true, then some point along a continuum should be recognizable. But not. Life apparently goes on, but has yet to grow big enough to assuage the pain of loss. Conversely, if grief diminishes over time, apparently life must go on a long time before it begins to smother the grief. Either way, it’s a struggle to relate.

Sometimes anger wells up amidst the sadness and sorrow. How could she be taken away?! Were we not all the better for her presence in this life? Yes, we were! Yes, we are!

On the Other Hand

Better memories of Pam are emerging as time passes. Earlier pictures are reminders of happier times. Every one depicting the beautiful person she was, a beacon of kindness and compassion. One should hope to be such a person. Though she was so loving, and so loved, she was so much better than she ever thought she was. That, too, is part of her beauty.

So all is not just gloom and doom. Life cannot be all bad (though the news sources seem to differ) when such amazing people sojourn among us. We just have to recognize their positive contributions to our lives; enjoy their nature. Live to honor their lives. Live in hope that the circle will somehow, some day, grow to comfort us, to buffer us from the pain and sorrow of our grief.

Further Reflection

All of the above was written earlier in the week. Consideration was given to tossing it all out as being too depressing. But no. It stands as is. But said again, all is not just gloom and doom! Much enjoyment comes from the home we shared, now home alone. Much joy is felt when talking to and being with family and friends. Neighbors are friendly and encouraging. Autumn is a beautiful time of year in Iowa. And though it foreshadows winter, it also holds its own beauty for us to enjoy.

Now. Here’s the test. Can you figure out the missing word in this week’s post? You may post a comment in response. Or, if you would like to submit your guess privately, send a message at wutjavia@gmail.com.

Have a great week!!! Here’s hoping for happier topics as life go on.

Writer’s Block!

Cliche? I suppose. But descriptive none-the-less. Many ideas crisscross in my mind, flitting this way and that. Some just disappear. Others, I summarily dismiss. I could use the excuse that I was traveling last week and didn’t have time to write. But that would be only partially true. Truer still is that I couldn’t even decide on a topic.

I could write about my trip to Atlanta to visit family and help around the house while my sister recuperated from her surgery. The visit was good. My sister came through great. It was a nice visit. But I don’t feel like discoursing our interactions or daily activities while I was there. I did get to see Oppenheimer with two of my sisters. That was a special time to share together. Good movie.

I thought about laying out my thoughts about bacon, kinds, types, flavors, and how I missed it while away. I have a couple slices nearly every morning at home. We discussed bacon at the dinner table one evening. The topic of beef bacon came up. Click the link if you are interested. Personally, I prefer “real” bacon. My favorite is Hormel Black Label Cherrywood Thick Cut. I buy it a dozen at a time at Menard’s when they have it. I could go on with this topic, but don’t deem it worthy of more.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a new normal, hoping for extended emotional stability, enough so that I recognize various phases, ups and downs; consistency, rather than in throws. But I haven’t found it yet. Maybe I’ll be able to write about that when I recognize it – if it is found. Meanwhile, I am still day by day, not dwelling too much on the past nor looking too far into the future. Both directions give rise to discomfort that I can only tolerate in small portions.

Not only am I rambling because I don’t have clear direction, but I am reverting to the dreaded “I” at the beginning of my paragraphs. Yep. Take a look. And though I am hard on myself for being egocentric and unworthy of praise, I continue to receive compliments for looking good (maybe for my age?), for my efforts to help others, and the gift of music and song. But knowing myself, I have to downplay the accolades because they feed my egocentricity. Kind of a vicious circle. I do, however, appreciate others’ kind words, and know that without them, I would probably be very depressed in deed!

So, even with writer’s block, I managed to write 419 words leading up to this paragraph. I guess it means that the title is apt. I wrote about a bunch of unrelated thoughts because I have no other clear topic.

Well, hopefully next week. I did hear from some readers who wondered if I would have a post since the normal Saturday deadline had come and gone. Even knowing that my no-posts are missed, makes me feel a little better. Now I’m off to get back in the groove. Search for topics gleaned from my daily life.

More musings of a wandering mind.

Have a great week.