Hard to-pronounce-hike produces big views

Some lakes have names that are descriptive and easy to remember—like Scenic Lake, Crystal Lake, Spruce Lake, Goat Lake, Mirror Lake, Strawberry Lake and countless others that come to mind. Unless you are fluent in tribal dialects Otokomi Lake is not likely to be remembered as one of those, but it does make for a decent hike and backcountry camping destination.

The truth is, I settled on a hike to Otokomi Lake (pronounced oh-toe-ko-me), because all of the other trails I had considered—including ones in Glacier, Jewel Basin and the Swan'still suffered from partial snow-cover, as much as 60 percent so.

Thus, it was to my delight that I discovered Otokomi Lake boasted a shocking zero percent snow cover. Not surprisingly, I did a fly-in on Google Earth and decided that Okotomi Lake, via the Rose Creek Trail, would be my destination hike for the week.

The Rose Creek Trail can be classified as easy-to-moderate, though more people are likely to rate it as moderate than easy. The trail officially gains 1,900 feet between the lake and trailhead, but drops down in a couple of places, where you have to gain back elevation that you've lost. That means that overall, you climb somewhere around 2,200 feet, when you count the elevation that you had to gain twice.

Mind you, in Glacier National Park, 2,200 feet isn't all that much, especially when you consider that you gain that elevation over approximately 5.2 miles, averaging just 423 feet per mile. Most people are able to handle such a steady but gradual elevation gain fairly easily.

In fact, I passed an older couple on my way up — they were already coming down — who completed the 10.4-mile roundtrip in less time than I did. Most people should allow themselves between five and six hours, unless they want to spend a fair amount of time at the lake — it does boast a healthy population of Yellowstone cutthroats, if you're looking for a quiet fishing spot.

Otokomi is a Blackfeet Indian name that means "Yellow Fish." My cousin and I actually watched the fish jumping while we enjoyed a mid-afternoon lunch. I've been told that they take well to live bait but lacked the ambition to pack in a rod and reel on the day that I made my ascent.

We had gotten off to a late start and didn't even begin our hike until around noon. The drive through Logan Pass was breathtaking, as always, and reminded me of why I never tire of making the trip. I always see something truly amazing that makes me feel as if I'm seeing it for the first time.

This time, the special sight that completely transformed the pass into some fabled locale like the ones you only see in movies set in exotic places or the occasional flights of imagination, came in the form of a rolling fog, rising from the east and pouring over the Continental Divide like a waterfall from some massive cauldron. Fortunately, the noon sun had burned off most of the cloud cover by the time we arrived at the Rising Sun campground and store, where the Rose Creek Trail begins.

Rising Sun lies on the east side of Going-to-the-Sun Road, about halfway along St. Mary Lake, and we found the trailhead just left of the camp store, which shares a large parking lot with the Two Dog Flats Grill. Rising out of the St. Mary Valley, the trail follows Rose Creek to partial overlooks of a few scenic points with waterfalls as you progress toward Rose Basin and Otokomi Lake, affording enough opportunities to satisfy professional and amateur photographers alike.

The sound of rushing water remained constant for the vast majority of our hike. Junipers, Douglas Fir and even Lodgepole Pines abound along the trail, and at least 50 species of native wildflowers — including wild roses, Indian paintbrush, fireweed, asters, beargrass others — make it a visual delight as much for hikers to enjoy, in addition to the melodic accompaniment of the creek and wildlife. In places, the wildflowers and berry bushes became a kind of butterfly garden, where the butterflies were as taken in by their surroundings as we were.

At the start of the hike, the trail headed north toward Otokomi Mountain, assuming a more northwesterly direction as it continued to follow the creek along the western slope of Otokomi. Although the mountain is always there, it is often difficult to see because of the many tall trees.

We were able to see Otokomi Mountain, which stands at just under 8,000 feet, as we got closer to the lake, but not before we caught sight of the 8,826 foot tall Goat Mountain. By this time, the view was becoming more and more photographic. Eventually, the trail crossed an old avalanche shoot, where a massive avalanche completely cleared this section of trees.

From here on, we hiked in the open, until we reached the lake itself. However, reaching the lake took longer than we anticipated. The rocky trail continued upward, following the contours of the cliffs above us with more uphill and few downs before the lake finally came into view — by this time we were already on top of it.

Rose Basin, in which the lake sits, is beautiful, and the afternoon sun brought out the amazing colors of the cliffs and argillite peaks that surround Otokomi Lake. When the water is still, the colors of the basin walls take on even more depth and contrast, as the cliffs and peaks are reflected in the surface of the lake.

I could imagine that sunsets would make such reds and oranges all the more striking to photograph, but I knew I would have to begin my descent back to the St. Mary Valley soon for my return trip home.

We did find a backcountry campground at the mouth of the lake. Only one party had chosen to take advantage of the three available tent sites, which I found somewhat surprising considering the fact that the Otokomi Lake campground is one of the first backcountry camping areas to become snow-free.

My cousin and I were daring enough to cross the creek and followed what appeared to be an animal trail, partway along the lake until we found a nice place to stop, take some pictures and eat a bit of lunch before heading back.

All in all, the hike took us about five and a half hours, from start to finish. More finely-tuned hikers could certainly shave an hour or more off of that time, but with so much to take in, I'm not sure why anyone would want to.