Just returned from the Beljica Odyssey, wending our way like little mice through boulder fields and a graveyard of giant trees, traversing the edge of the void in total stillness but for the frolicking of dragonflies, the innocent faces of ox-eye daisies and the silent lavender trumpets of foxglove watching us with trepidation. The gods fought and died here. They murdered each other with stone hammers. Their tears made rivers that ran over their bones, continuing to flow and leave trails of ferns and flowers in their path. This forbidding landscape is unsettled and unsettling, bright and joyful yet funereal. Every footfall must land as carefully as a egg placed in a basket. Every boot print traces a path of mountain goat-like stubborn resistance to the call of gravity. We knew that what remains of the earth could give way at any time and drop us to hell in a heartbeat. The echoes of our voices rang back from the bottom of the abyss, wraiths of the darkness beckoning us forward to doom. Life is precarious but tenacious, clinging to the margins and creeping along a vast, restless precipice that constantly rewrites its own story, molding itself to the whims and will of the angry titans.
There were severe washouts in five places. The landslides removed massive areas of hillside, rerouting streams and rivers--tossing boulders as big as sedans as well as huge diameter, old growth trees. There were gullies, canyons and chasms where once there was a road. Scrambling is required in some places and footing is made precarious by scree, talus, sand, and muddy, uphill stream crossings--all newly accumulated. It is an awe-inspiring and sobering sight, a reminder that mother nature can transform even the most immutable topography in the blink of an eye.
The road is extremely hazardous not just to cars but to foot travel. In some places most of the road has simply eroded, disappeared into the void, leaving a faint edge to cling to beside a yawning 200+ foot sheer drop. Much of the road is only what could be called corniced, with ledges perched out over the void. You will not even be aware you are traversing these cornices until you look back at the trail behind you and see where you just were. One slip or one more bit of erosion and...well, I wouldn't want me, my friends or loved ones to be the ones up there when the rest of it gives way, and it will soon. There were multiple thick trees snapped in half at the trunk and hanging over or into the road, huge pits and craters where road still existed.
The wind blew steadily as we slogged up what was left of the road, causing trees already bending at odd angles to sway, looking like they would topple like a failed game of jenga. It was 4.5 miles from the last place a car can reach to the beginning of the Beljica trail head. This was a great hike, and I appreciate it all the more knowing I'll never return. There is absolutely no way these roads could be salvaged or repaired. New ones would have to be engineered and I doubt anyone would find that worth the time and expense.
I am glad I got to bear witness to these powerful, terrifying sights, all the more potent for their stark juxtaposition to the surrounding peace, stillness, the stunning spectacle of water, the riot of wildflowers and dragonflies flitting to and fro that abounds here. While the hike in was far from tedious, I still cannot consider it worth the effort or the danger to life and limb to reach any of the western trail heads of the Glacierview Wilderness. Maybe I'll find a way in from the other side. read more