July 3, 2018. Bluesky Trailhead to Bluebird Lake.
I slept great, there was very little new rain, and I was ready to start a new day. After all, today I was going to climb over Mount Wam.
To start my day, I hiked up two different gravel roads. During the almost five miles, I was only passed by Forest Service and Conservation Corps vehicles. All heading up, hopefully to clear trail for me.
Once again, the damp clouds hung low and periodically dropped rain. On trail, the path was slightly overgrown with huckleberries or, alternately, alders, either of which was glad to drop their accumulated rain onto my shoes.
Last night I had camped at 4,500 elevation. I took a slight break at 6,400 feet to get water and prepare for the steep climb up to Mount Wam. Although I have not seen much wildlife, I was able find two different types of bird nests. Both make their nests on the ground and are very good at camouflage.
Like any normal person, I wondered where the name Mount Wam came from. I googled it previously to no avail. By no avail, I mean I couldn’t find anything on the first page of search results. I couldn’t recall a famous Wam, surely a memorable name. As I climbed the steep trail to the 7,000 elevation, I imagined the name came from a Batman comic fan who dreamed of a Mt. Blam and Mt. Pow. Or, it was meant to be an acronym such as What A Mountain or Wait A Minute or Wasted All Memory.
All this helped pass the struggle up. At the top, there is a restored fire lookout with stunning views that can be reserved for overnight stays. It is quite a hard reservation to get, apparently. However, as I struggled to see 30 feet into the clouds surrounding me, I felt bad for the person who hiked 5 miles up hill to a reservation in this weather.
On the way down away from the peak, I came across two guys on the trail. They were a little older than me. I asked if they had reservations and, fortunately, they did not, just out for an overnight trip. They were flabbergasted when I told them I had started in Glacier National Park. They were good guys and I was glad to see a couple buddies taking on a tough trail in tough conditions.
The rest of the trail was going to stay above 6,500 feet. The intermittent rain plus increasing snow on the ground plus blowdowns every hundred feet made the second half of the day a real struggle.
By late afternoon, about 75% of the trail was under snow. The rythmn was:
- Step up on to snow bank
- Take two steps
- Slip if steep
- Sink in to knee
- Repeat until end
- Walk on visible trail for six feet
- Start over
By 5:00, I was exhausted. My quads were aching. I could not feel my toes. Rain was intensifying. My original plan was a 23 mile day to set me up for a shorter walk to town the next day. I had to give that up. I was soaked and getting cranky, warning signs.
I made it to Bluebird Lake. A truly beautiful campsite in better weather. A grassy meadow looks over a small crystal lake at the foot of a huge wall spiked with rugged pine trees at the top.
At first I gathered dry firewood with the intent of building a huge fire to dry out. The drizzle, unfortunately, turned to a heavy downpour. I pitched my tent, put all my necessities in it, and then huddled under a big old spruce tree eating my not-fully-hydrated dinner. Still in downpour, I hung up my food bag and splashed in to my tent.
I was very cold and soaked. My down puffy had gotten wet and both my merino wool layers, too. I only had one thin change of dry clothes. I made the change and then struggled for the next 30 minutes to warm up inside my down quilt and stop the shuddering.
In hindsight, I was a dummy for only bringing a wind shirt versus a full-fledged breathable rain jacket. The wind shirt blocks wind and light drizzle, but eventually soaks through in heavy rain. My brilliant plan was to use my umbrella for heavier rains. But I needed both hands free to catch myself on the snow and thus no umbrella. On top of this, the wind shirt traps body perspiration, essentially soaking from within. Lesson learned.
I fell asleep before darkness as the rain turned to drizzle then to nothing. It was a hard fought 18 miles.
backpacking over the hill 