A day away from Whitefish

Pure and pristine Upper Whitefish Lake Trapper lore part of mountain lake's charm

Before its waters mix with the myriad of streams that transform it into Whitefish Lake, there is a smaller and purer little mountain lake: Upper Whitefish Lake.

Back behind logging operations and nestled in the mountains that divide Whitefish from Eureka, the northernmost reaches of the Stillwater State Forest hold this green mountain gem.

The hundred-acre lake sits in the midst of mountain man history. At the turn of the century, trappers prowled and set up residence in the entire area; more than one lived near the lake or on one of the countless streams that ribbon the upper reaches of the Whitefish range.

Old horse trails mark the paths of these turn-of-the-century trappers, where early mountain men harvested pine marten, beaver and even grizzlies from the forests. An old trapper's grave sits near the lakeshore for the adventuresome to locate.

For those less hardy than the forest forefathers, easy car camping can be had all along the shores. The Stillwater State Forest provides a fire ring and a handy grilling grate at most campsites. Picnic tables add to the inviting sites. Remember that these are state trust lands, so a trust land recreation pass is required. Passes are available locally at the Sportsman & Ski Haus and Army Navy Store for $10 per person, per year, or $20 for a family.

Tally Lake Ranger Station has maps of the area, and their district map lays out nearby streams and roads.

Recreationalists can access Upper Whitefish Lake by one of two ways: take U.S. 93 North toward Olney; turn right at Olney at the brown Forest Service sign (watch carefully, it's a small sign); follow the signs to Upper Whitefish Lake, they'll take you across two bridges; follow the road that heads straight from the second bridge, you'll see the lake on your left.

From Whitefish, head past the Big Mountain turn off along East Lakeshore Drive. Approximately four miles after the Big Mountain turnoff, the road makes a Y to the right onto a dirt road; you'll know it's the right road when you come to a State Stillwater Forest sign approximately 100 yards down the road that directs you to Upper Whitefish Lake. It's about 45 minutes either way, so bring a water bottle.

Chances are you will share the bumpy, dusty road with bikers, so be aware. Here's a piece of road history: Franklin D. Roosevelt's government labor groups, the CCC, built most of the major roads as far back as 1930 during the Great Depression. Several old semi-working outhouses survive for those interested in an offbeat outhouse history.

The district map reveals more of the history of the area. Many of the feeder creeks to Whitefish Lake are named after trappers: Russky Creek (for an illustrious Russian), Fitzsimmons Creek and Chepat Creek all bear the names of the names of trappers from days gone by. Quite a few unnamed creeks beg for campers to concoct names.

The most illustrious of trappers was the notorious Joe Bush, whose Flathead roots trace back to 1887. He trapped in Upper Whitefish and claimed her waters as his own. He was known to burn down any signs of homestead or cabin construction by the lake. Joe died of strychnine poisoning on Aug. 18 or 19, 1934.

Along with history, wildlife and birdlife abound. An eagle nests on the lake, and loons greet campers in the morning.

The tiny lake does not allow jet skis, power boats or fireworks. Don Copple, the unit fire supervisor, reminds people to make sure their campfires are dead out by feeling the fire with the back of their hand and digging into the ashes to assure all of the coals are dead.

Copple is working on a trail map of the area. Currently, old logging roads that have been kelly-humped are accessible for bikers, hikers and horses.

If you're up for additional adventure, keep on driving past the lake and head up into Forest Service territory to explore

Red Meadow Lake and Link Lake. Remember that state law requires a bucket, shovel and ax in every car, just in case you have to put out a wildfire.

Story and photos by Christine Hensleigh