History time: Heart Lake was originally named by the O'Neil expedition, one of the first parties to explore this area, because it is shaped like a heart. Later, a fellow named Hart claimed he too had explored the area and named the lake after himself. Depending on which map you get, it is now known by both. La Crosse basin, in which Heart Lake rests, is named after the other lake in the area, La Crosse lake, which in turn was first named Lake of the Holy Cross by that same O'Neil expedition because of a gnarled fir tree up on a peak overlooking that lake that looked like a, you guessed it, cross. The name has since been frenchified for no apparent reason, unless it's because "Lake of the Holy Cross" is a little long and/or wordy for some maps. It is, after all, a pretty small lake. Then again, it's also possible some cartographer was a weird sports fanatic and the shape of the lake reminded him of a basket on a stick.
Heart Lake was a little slice of paradise. We camped on the peninsula that juts out into the lake and forms the V section of the heart. We were about thirty feet above its teal colored, crystal clear waters. A snow bank off to one side was soon employed by our backsides to slide directly into the lake. Talk about a thrill. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like sliding in your swimsuit down a snow slope and ending up in the bracing, only recently thawed waters of a mountain tarn. I came up gasping for air and finding it strangely difficult to breathe. Turns out I was choking on the, um, boys, which had made a remarkably rapid migration from a certain southern region to the relative warmth of my neck. If you catch my drift.
After our little dip we went for a hike on a trail where the next day we were to encounter a fine young specimen of bruinhood; Ursus Minor, actually Ursus Americanus, the common black bear. He was apparently a juvenile, a mere 250 pounds if I'm any judge of bulging bear bodies and he tolerated out presence just long enough for me to snap off a couple of shots. Photos that is. I was able to stalk him for a while and get within fifteen feet of him without molestation. He just huffed a little at my annoying persistence. Then I heard this weird rreorwly noise. It was made by my 16 year old son who was a few feet further up the hill above the bear. Much to my surprise, the bear made the same sound in reply. Teenagers, what do you do?
I guess I have only one regret. I had my pepper spray resting on my belt in case he suddenly decided to turn into a bruinhoodlum. But it wasn't required. Damn. Those little canisters are expensive. That's thirty bucks down the drain. Oh well. Maybe I can use it to spice up our next taco night.
