Harding Icefield Trail, Part II

Click here for Part I.

My hike back down from the end of the Harding Icefield Trail was marked by being alternately mesmerized by the glacier and the wildflowers.  Glacier...

More glacier, monochrome this time to emphasize the texture and contrast.

Wildflowers.  Specifically, more lupinesicles.

Still more lupinesicles.

I did see a marmot, who apparently also saw me.  I can't really say he "fled," because that would imply a speed which he simply didn't seem to have.

Last shot of ice-encrusted lupine, I promise.

Aaaannnddd ... more monochrome glacier.

Full-color glacier, just to mix things up.  Those crevasses get a bit hypnotic when you're trying to look down inside them.

Maybe I shouldn't get so excited about blue ice.  But it's blue freaking ice.  Colorado's a pretty dry state, so anything involving water is almost automatically cool because it's so different from what I typically see on hikes.

Wild geranium, I believe.  The ones we get in Colorado tend to be pink rather than purple.

Pretty sure this is Labrador tea, a type of rhododendron.

Western Columbine, balancing out the wild geranium by being red instead of bluish-purple like its Colorado cousin.

I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that if you're going to shoot a waterfall, you need to use either a really fast shutter speed that completely freezes the action or a tripod and a really slow shutter speed that gives you that beautiful lacy look.  Anything in between is just sort of muddled.

The lower, forested sections of the trail had lots of small songbirds flying through the undergrowth, like this Hermit Thrush.

I read a comment recently to the effect that robins would be more appreciated for their beauty if they weren't quite so common.  I'm a fan regardless.

I walked through the door of the visitor center exactly six hours after I'd started, and to my surprise Danelle and the kids were sitting there waiting!  Turns out they'd come out just to see the glacier, but the center has no phone service and they hadn't made arrangements for a cab or other ride back.  So they decided to just wait for me so we could all head to the ship together.  A very nice end to a tremendous hike!

Harding Icefield Trail, Part I

Having nearly a full day in Seward before we had to be on our cruise ship meant there was plenty of time to have some fun.  Danelle found some info on the Harding Icefield Trail, which seemed intriguing.  When National Geographic named it one of the 20 best hikes in our national parks, I was sold.

I figured it would take between six to eight hours to cover the 8.4 miles and 3,000 feet of elevation gain, so I had to get an early start.  Up at 5 a.m., at the trailhead by 6.  It wasn't too long ago that I wouldn't dream of getting up that early on a vacation.

The trail rose quickly to provide nice views of the misty glacial valley.  But between the overcast conditions and early hour there wasn't much light for pictures.

Just over an hour in I got my first good look at Exit Glacier.

Multiple hikers reported seeing a small black bear by this waterfall on my way back down.  But thanks to my bear bells I never saw him.  As much as I wanted to see bears on our trip, alone on a hiking trail wasn't my first choice.

There was a lot of blue-pod lupine along the trail, mostly encased in a thin layer of ice.

As the light grew stronger, the blue coloration in the glacial ice became more obvious.

The orange flags along the highest section of the trail did prove to be quite a help.  There were several spots where it wasn't otherwise obvious where exactly to walk.

Several small waterfalls ran down the rocky slopes, and made the only sounds in the otherwise still environment.

When I first noticed red blotches in the snow I thought they might be blood from some predator's meal.  Then I saw more red than a blue whale could have provided, so I guess it's actually from some sort of mineral in the rocks.

The emergency shelter provided a welcome sight, since it indicated the end of the trail was only another third of a mile away.

In the desolate landscape the grim little shack was actually a bit creepy.  I knocked on the door before opening it, half expecting some crazed hermit to be in residence.  There wasn't one.

The end of the trail wasn't marked by any sign.  The orange flags just suddenly stopped, and you were left looking out over ice and snow as far as the eye could see.  It took my breath away.

Even in extreme conditions like these, life finds a way to eke out an existence.

Switching to monochrome really emphasized some of the interesting textures in the ice.

The silt-covered riverbeds made it easy to trace the paths of other nearby glaciers that were also receding back into the icefield.

Click here for Part II.