Mitchell to Blue Lake Trail

Yesterday morning Mark and I drove up to Brainard and hiked Mitchell Lake Trail most of the way to Blue Lake. As we had hoped there were plenty of parking places the day after the holiday on a weekday.

It turns out Mark has very fond memories of this trail, recalling a hike he took on it with his Dad and Shannon, when Shannon was about seven years old. He remembers there was a snowfield near the top and the three of them had a snowball fight in summer – a happy memory.

We let two pleasant looking yet chattering women past us, and then headed up the pine-shaded trail, the light dappling the rocks, ferns and fallen logs in that way I love. I took lots of pictures. The smell of pine was deep and delicious. We stopped at one point and stood very still, listening to the peaceful silence in a moment of Zen. Only the rush of wind through the trees and the sound of running water could be heard.

Further up, Mitchell Lake was in a tranquil state, the water glimmering shades of brown, gray and green. As we moved above tree line we could look down below to a series of small lakes and rock formations, while above the clouds moved and reformed and grew as though alive in the blue sky overhead.

We made it far enough to sit on a promontory overlooking walls of talus and a fall of water staining the otherwise sandy-yellow rocks a darker gray. The water tumbled into a small stream below lined with bright green plants and a few alpine flowers. Mark spotted a fat marmot who, startled to see us, hustled away up the talus and was quickly camouflaged by the surrounding terrain. That’s the first time we’ve seen a marmot in the mountains in perhaps fifteen years.

We ate our ham and cheese sandwiches and rested awhile, then headed back down, our bodies protesting the long hike back over rough rocks much of the way. It was a wonderful day, and Mark asked me to send the best pictures to his Dad to help him remember that other happy hike long ago.