www.marionlake.com

We are back from Montana.  Glacier National Park to be exact.  The four Kotrbas plus my mom stayed five nights at the Izaak Walton Inn.  We had an awesome time.  It was 45 degrees and raining all week but we went forth anyway.  Wednesday was a hike to Marion Lake, 2.5 miles one way and gaining 2200 feet or so.  This was an aggressive hike for us to take with Mary, as she is still only six.  I think we actually would have made it but for a few small setbacks which I will try to capture with photos.  The first was the fact that we were the first hikers of the season so no one illuminated us to the fact that Montana had 200% snowfall this winter and the heavy snow coupled with high winds brought down an enormous amount of trees.  101 in our path to be exact.  We counted them on the way down.  One hundred and one to climb over or under or around.

The second obstacle was the rain and plummeting temperature. It started at 45 degrees at the car.  I don't know what it was at the top.  I packed each child three sweatshirts.  We layered them all.  Lucky for Calvin he had a good raincoat to put on top, a hand-me-down-from a student.  Note to self:  everyone needs a raincoat.  And wool socks.  And waterproof hiking boots.  And mittens.

The third obstacle was the snow.  After we lost and recovered the trail in the snow several times, there started to be little rushing rivers hidden under snow banks.  That got a little scary.  So we stopped.  Bill and I went on, we gave ourselves 20 minutes forward and 20 minutes to get back to the kids and my mom.  We didn't get to Marion Lake.   I think it was just around the next ski hill. . . . by the time we got back--Calvin, Mary and my mom were pretty cold and wet.

Mary cried.  The whole way through the frozen picnic.  The whole way down the mountain.  This ensured our safety from any bear activity. Through sobs, "Mama, as soon as we get back to Minnesota I'm gonna go to www.marionlake.com and see that lake we didn't get to see.   Sorry Mary, National Wilderness Area Lakes don't always have their own websites.  It is a hard lesson for this generation to learn.
She wouldn't even eat her cookies in her misery. This is of course the exact treatment that my sister and I received hiking as a family when we were young.  Except we had 40 pound packs.  Okay maybe not at six years old, but we were pretty little. . .  historical photos would show my dad carrying his pack, me, and my pack down the last leg of the trail.  These are the traditions we must uphold.

All is well that ends well.  This was the closest we got to the top.  Next time we will make it. There has to be something to go back for.

We had such a great trip.
It took a lot of courage for us to go back to the sacred place my kids spent our last memories with my dad two years ago, but that is another blog entry.