A Glacial Paradise: Our Trip to Blanca Lake

This past week, the pack and I spent the night at one of my absolute favorite places in the Cascades—Blanca Lake.  For those of you who haven’t had the opportunity to do this hike, I will do my best to describe it to you.  However, it is difficult to put this type of beauty into words.  Even pictures cannot do it justice.

What makes Blanca Lake so remarkable is the bright, blue-green color of its glacier-fed waters.  Two magnificent peaks tower over the lake—Columbia Peak and Kyes Peak.  The striking Columbia Glacier drapes over the former’s western slopes and drains year-round into Blanca Lake.  I’ve seen several glacial lakes and rivers in the mountainous regions of places like Alaska, Canada, and Switzerland.  Although I’ve always been fascinated by them, I’ve never understood exactly what gives these glacial waters their brilliant hue.

It turns out that, over time, the grinding of rocks beneath the glacier creates what geologists call “rock flour.”  As the glacier recedes, this powdery sediment flows in to the lake and—because it is so fine—is suspended in the water.  Sunlight scatters when it hits these tiny particles of rock dust.  While certain colors are absorbed, the green-blue wavelengths of light are reflected.  This is what gives glacial waters their milky turquoise appearance.  For a more detailed explanation, check out this website.

The hike up to Blanca Lake is a relatively steep one.  Although I’ve been there once before, I’ve never spent the night and therefore never needed to carry a heavy pack.  From the trailhead, we climbed a seemingly endless series of switchbacks, ascending roughly 3,000 feet over approximately 3 miles.  Although the views during this section are essentially non-existent, the trail winds through magnificent second growth forest, filled with enormous ferns and moss covered trees.  We eventually reached the top of the ridge, where we had an unobstructed view of Glacier Peak to the northeast.  To the south, we also recognized what we believe to be the jagged summit of Overcoat Peak, near where we had been only a short time ago on our trip to Necklace Valley.

From there, the trail climbs more gradually as it traverses along the top of the ridge before dropping to the small, tree-lined Virgin Lake.  Although there are several nice campsites along the lake, I doubt anyone who knows what lies ahead would choose to stop there.  After passing Virgin Lake, the trail turns into a bit of a scramble as it descends steeply down to Blanca Lake.

When we finally arrived, the lake was just as beautiful as I remembered.  And as with most of our recent hikes, we had the entire place to ourselves.

We set up camp along the sandy shore while the dogs ran around to explore their new home for the night. Nuptse put his balance to the test as he scampered across the network of logs floating at the end of the lake, occasionally falling in when he misjudged their stability.

After making a pot of our dehydrated vegan Four Pepper Chili, we sat back to enjoy the sunset.  I literally gasped when I turned around at one point and saw that the tips of the peaks had turned a bright shade of magenta. The color didn’t last long, but if anything, the fact that it was fleeting made it all the more captivating.

We set our alarm to ensure we wouldn’t miss the sunrise the next morning.  Although the colors were not as vibrant, the scene was just as stunning as the night before. We watched for the better part of an hour as the sunlight spread across the rocks above the lake, encompassing the mountains in an ever expanding glow.

After breakfast, we we followed the boot path which meanders around the edge of the lake.  When we reached the other side, we saw two mountain goats traversing the loose rocks above us.  It was a surprise to both of us to see them so far west in the Cascades.  The dogs were obviously intrigued at first, but soon lost interest when they realized their chances of catching these mysterious creatures was slim to none.

Although our original plan was to climb up to the waterfall that cascades down from the Columbia Glacier, we knew it was much farther than it appeared and would take us most of the day.  We decided to save the trek for another time, perhaps earlier in the season when there is more snow left for the dogs to play in.

Shortly after we made it back to our campsite, the day hikers began trickling in.  By the time we arrived at our car, we counted at least forty people headed up the trail.  Although the beauty of Blanca Lake makes this a relatively popular hike, I was still amazed at the traffic, especially given that we were there on a weekday.

At the trailhead, we noticed a sign we had missed on the way in.  It said that, due to the large number of visitors, camping is now prohibited within 200 feet of Blanca Lake.  This area encompass most, if not all, of the campsites we saw scattered around the lake.  I understand that such restrictions are necessary to preserve the delicate places we love, it’s just unfortunate that we can’t take better care of our surroundings by minimizing—if not eliminating—our human impact.  Still, a part of me was glad we hadn’t seen the sign the day before because it allowed us to enjoy one last overnight at Blanca Lake.  It was an experience we won’t soon forget.