It took me two years to discover the trailhead to Blanca Lake, a destination that initially appealed to me because of my addiction to alpine lakes, and because of its proximity to Index, WA, a favorite locale. Before the Index-Galena road washed out, it was the most popular route to the Blanca Lake trailhead. On my first attempt at finding Blanca Lake, I traversed the washout thinking I could walk all the way to the trailhead. I severely underestimated the distance. For miles and miles I walked along an intact portion of the road until an eerie late afternoon fog beckoned me back to my car on the other side of the washout barriers.
The washout is interesting in and of itself. Flooding has altered the road quite dramatically. Parts of the road are submerged while sections are walkable until nightfall when the river level rises. River currents have eroded giant bites out of the long stretch of black licorice pavement. A portion of the road exists on different levels; one section resembles a blackened banana skin, rising into the air, peeling and curling backwards. There are trails crudely cut into the raised shoulder of the road's impassable parts. Somehow this area beyond milepost 6.4 embodies the ideal of nature triumphant; the near obliteration of man's technological progress.
The alternate route to Lake Blanca, exists via the Beckler River Road, where it intersects with the Index-Galena Road just before another section of washout. Thanks to the efforts of state senators and representatives, this area is part of the Wild Sky Wilderness, a preserve mercifully out of reach of logging and development. The US Forest Service maintains the trailhead, keeping it rustic but accessible. The three-mile ascent to the Wilderness Marker, just above the demure Virgin Lake, is a thigh-busting 2700 feet elevation gain. Most of the wooded trail is dense and close but there are points along the trail's edge that allow you to assess the extent of your climb and peer down at the piney fringe of the sloping mountains nearby. Occasionally you may catch the glint of a mountain stream or hear its distant gurgle. After endless switchbacks, root mazes, and bee-infested blueberry meadows, a pristine panorama, affording views of the Monte Cristo and Keyes Peaks awaits. The brisk breeze from the snowfields is invigorating. Virgin Lake serves as a reflecting pool for this hard-won summit.
Beyond Virgin lake the tree-line marks a steep mile-long descent. A sharp drop-off on the left side of the trail reveals the misty meander of Troublesome Creek far below. Just when the trail flattens out and becomes swampy, you encounter Blanca Lake. Perhaps its name, which means white in Spanish, stems from the origin of its meltwater--the Columbia Glacier. Unfortunately, only another period of glacial cooling will preserve this flowing ice field which moves at a rate of 20 miles per year but has been retreating for decades. Sediment from rocks ground under the glacier are deposited into the lake basin 1000 feet below. The suspended minerals form a milky powder called rock flour that refracts sunlight. Depending on the amount of sunlight and sediment, the color of the lake alternates from gem-like turquoise to deep jade. No photograph can fully capture its unspoiled beauty and serenity. One might as well attempt to lasso a rainbow.
For want of the glacier, Lake Blanca would be another boggy Virgin Lake with clear but unexceptional blue water that would slowly recede, drying up its tributary, Troublesome Creek, and taming the North Fork of the Skykomish River to a trickle.
Roll on, Columbia Glacier. May you somehow attain equilibrium.
