An Infinity of Mirrors: Kintla Lake

August-September 1999

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Michael Jarnevic

I have been paddling for about 10 minutes when it occurs to me that the lake I am on, Kintla Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana is so glassy that if photographed, it would be difficult to determine whether the photograph was upside down or rightside up.

Kintla Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana

Yes, I think, you made it right. I have my Walkman plugged in with a collection of songs I have labeled "The Kayak Tape." It is composed exclusively of music about water and ships: Son of a Son of a Sailor, Southern Cross, and the soundtrack from Das Boot, to name a few.

I attempt to stop my little kayak and get the classic photo of the sky reflected in the water. It is difficult, because every time I try to slow down, the boat creates a wake, damaging the aquamirror. I finally realize that the only way I can catch the shot is to get the camera ready, get up some speed to move ahead of the wake, stop paddling, and then snap the picture. After some practice, the technique is perfected and I get some remarkable photographs of one of the most majestic places I have ever experienced. One photo of alpineglow bedecked clouds, taken later in the evening, appears to be a shot directly of the sky, but is, in fact, the clouds reflected in the water.

Kintla Lake, located in Glacier National Park in northwest Montana, is not only drop-dead beautiful, it's only open to nonmotorized craft, like canoes and kayaks. Thus it is completely devoid of wake-producing motorboats, water-skiing showoffs, and those feckless jet boaters who somehow have not been arrested or weeded out by Charles Darwin. With a span of approximately 6 miles long by a mile wide, Kintla offers everything that a touring kayaker can hope for: gorgeous scenery, clear water, excellent camping facilities, and a never ending parade of wildlife. In the four days I am there, I see eagles, osprey, ducks, otters, deer, dragon flies, and a solitary yearling black bear that climbs a tree about 20 yards behind my luncheon spot on the beach, just to get a better look at me. It is a magical moment, as we eye each other with awe but very little apprehension. As .he ambles up the hill and out of sight, it strikes me that I am seeing an image of myself going off to explore with the wonderment of a child. This is what Kintla does to you.

On the afternoon of the last day of my long weekend, the wind starts to pick up-gradually at first. Within an hour, Kintla has turned into an ocean, with whitecaps and surfable waves. A small fleet of sea kayaks paddles next to my beach spot and they exclaim with glee that the wind is at their backs and we can just sail on in to the campground. I reply that they should be careful. This is, afterall, a high altitude lake and the weather can get downright evil... and very quickly. I take my time, pack up my gear, eat a final Clifbar, and get back into the water. The waves are now about three feet high, especially out in the middle of the lake. I opt to hug the shoreline, thinking that if I flip, I can at least wade the boat to shore. The wind is certainly an aid as I gauge my speed cutting through the water. If I put some muscle into the stroke, I seem to almost fly with the waves. But the apprehension is there and I make sure that I maintain forward momentum so as not to get turned sideways and tempt fate. And, at one point, I do get pushed sideways by a combination of circumstances, with a wave crashing over the bow. I wish that I had brought the full skirt, instead of the half-skirt that has served me so well all weekend, but I am reading the waves pretty well and they seem to be cooperating.

 The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald pounds in the headphones of the Walkman. About a mile from the campground I have to cross a small bay and choose not to follow the shoreline to make better time. I now find myself in waves that are 4-5 feet high. Yeeha! As I have experience with ocean kayak surfing, I ride the crests, maneuvering within the sets of waves. It has become a game. It has become fun. I catch another wave, gliding on its peak; the bow slamming down into the water as the wave moves past me. The campground is now within visual range and I see the people there obviously enjoying my antics. I can imagine how crazy I must appear to them as I surf in on the last wave before the shoreline as Johnny Horton's Sink the Bismarck plays through the Walkman. As I hit the beach and my fellow kayakers pull my boat up out of the water, they ask, "Weren't you afraid?" I shake my head and grin.

GETTING THERE

Kintla Lake is not easily accessible, but is well worth the added time needed to reach it. From Columbia Falls take the Northfork Highway to Polebridge (which is mostly a paved road) and then follow the signs along the slow-moving, dirt road to Kintla. The drive is incredibly scenic, with the far-off peaks of central Glacier dominating. Kintla's campground is pleasant with good shade trees and free firewood. Because of its outback nature, it's seldom crowded, especially in the off months like September. The closest facilities are in Polebridge, about 15 miles away, so don't expect to be able to drive easily to a convenience store. This is essentially backpacking out of your car.

Michael Jarnevic is a freelance writer based out of Missoula, Montana. © Text and photo.