Hiking

Making It (Almost) to Akokala Lake: Early Season Hiking in Glacier’s North Fork Region

By Maggie Neal Doherty, 6-24-11

	The famous Merc, only sunnier and with more tourists. Photo courtesy of Maggie Neal Doherty.

After 23 miles of dusty potholed road and a stop off at the Polebridge Mercantile for a hot turkey sandwich to add to my lunch, I pulled my camera from my backpack to shoot the stunning expanse of Bowman Lake in the spring – lake blue and mountains draped in white.

The shot didn’t happen.

In my rush must-hike-because-the-sun-is-finally-shining moment, I forgot a few things for my hike to Akokala Lake in the North Fork region of Glacier National Park. My memory card was at home, left in my computer; and as I would come to learn five miles later, so were my much-needed snowshoes.

Spring and early summer hiking presents a mixed bag of conditions up here and I was hoping for a somewhat clear trail. It was exactly that. Somewhat clear and, as I had anticipated, very wet and muddy. The lesser traveled hike is 11 miles with an elevation gain of 800 feet. The trailhead begins at the Bowman Ranger Station, starts in the dense mixed conifer forest and grinds up the ridge. Most trails at Bowman either trace the east or west sides of the lake. Akokala Lake trail runs around Numa Ridge and settles between Kintla and Bowman Lake.

I used to live along the confluence of Big Creek and the North Fork of the Flathead River and the region has a sacred place in my heart. Glacier’s more popular regions may get all the glory – Many Glacier and Logan Pass – but the North Fork is the most wild and untamed. It is a landscape dominated by the commanding Livingston Range and the mighty North Fork River. It is one of the most intact ecosystems in all of the West.

I even like the infamous North Fork Road, noted and cursed for its rough condition. To pave or not to pave has become a hot-button item for the residents of Polebridge. Where pavement ends, so do the power lines. Residents live off the power grid. There are 40 miles or so of unpaved road from the township of Blankenship to the Canadian Border and my advice is to go slow. Enjoy the drive. The route takes you through the 2001 Moose Fire and the scorched mountainsides have given way to strong regeneration of lodgepole pine, so much so that I almost missed a camouflaged bald eagle perched in a blackened tree above a bend in the river.

Armed with my hiking boots, bear spray and sandwich from the Merc, I applied sunscreen to my arms and set out on the trail. I planned to photograph the emerging spring blooms, but my camera was out of commission. There were a few flowers along the trail: Glacier Lilies that are a part of the grizzly bear’s varied diet, Wood Trillium in the wetter areas of the trail and the delicate and intricate Fairy Slipper Orchid.

Imprinted in the mud were recent moose tracks and scat. I also saw a freshly pressed boot print, smaller than my own. In my frequent ungraceful moves up, over and through the deadfall, I was glad that I was alone on the trail and no one was present to witness my clumsiness. Clambering over one wet log, I lost my footing and slipped to the ground. My bear spray, attached to the waist belt of my pack, jammed into my stomach. I wondered if I could die from bear spray canister impalement. Bruising, yes, but death? Probably not.

After an hour and half of meandering up and around Numa Ridge, I began my descent toward Akokala Creek. The trail moves in and out of the forest and there were glimmers of the snowy tops of the Whitefish Range to the west. Just before the creek crossing, the trail took me through a gigantic burned area and the surrounding peaks rose out of the decayed forest. Rainbow Peak was costumed in white, her colors not yet visible through the snow.

Climbing up from the creek bottom, I reached a trail junction. The right branch took me two more miles to the lake and the other trail continued on the park road leading to Kintla Lake. I stopped and ate half of my turkey, cream cheese and cranberry delight. I ambled through new-growth conifers and a little over a mile from the trail junction, I caught up with the boot prints. The print belonged to Rita, a longtime backcountry ranger. Her husband is the ranger at Logging Lake and she divulged that sometimes they swap jobs. She was sawing a small diameter downed tree when I approached. Snowshoes were strapped to her heavy pack and she told me that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the lake without them. She was on her return scout trip from the lake and backcountry campground and told me there were snow banks five to six feet high. I was a mere half mile from the lake.

I knew that my trusty old leather hiking boots alone would not deliver me to the lake. After several minutes of chatting and swapping early season hiking stories, I continued past Rita. I quickly ran into piles of old snow, post-holed across them but knew better. I backtracked and found a flat and dry spot in the sun and finished off the rest of my sandwich.

Rita’s saw was no match for the carnage on the trail –- and this year’s trail crews will be quite busy on all 700 trails in the Park –- so I knew I’d still have to lumber up, over and through all the debris. My final reward was a second stop at the infamous Mercantile for their equally infamous cookies.

In less than two hours, I walked the five miles back to my car, cuffed my muddy pants and changed into flip flops. Windows rolled down on the car, I drank the rest of my water and made the slow drive from the park’s gravel road, up and over the green Wild and Scenic North Fork of the Flathead River, and parked right in front of the old red Mercantile. Although it was just me, I purchased a baker’s dozen of the buttery and chewy cookies to nourish me for my long trip home.

Next time, I’ll bring my memory card.

Maggie Neal Doherty lives and plays in Whitefish, Montana, and blogs at loveandlongunderwear.wordpress.com.

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