A nephew, Benson, wanted to celebrate his birthday via camping this year. He invited Jason and I to join him, along with a few members of his immediate family. So, we went on a late fall outing to Rockport Reservoir in celebration of this significant occasion. Chatting, crepe munching, hiking, and wind battling ensued.
Notwithstanding its stone-centered name, I don’t believe eating rocks is a typical activity at Rockport.
Although I know my nephew loves me, I also know this invitation was extended in part to take advantage of my planning skills. Finding season-appropriate campsites at superb locations is a forte of mine, one that Benson wanted to utilize. I did not fail him. I reserved us a secluded spot at Rockport Reservoir, a great low-altitude option for the cool weather.
Lounging in a hammock is always an appropriate pastime on your birthday.
We wandered around the reservoir and found some interesting litter.
We spent our evening hours eating tinfoil dinners and conversing around the campfire. Sometime well after midnight, we finally crawled into our tents, minivans, and hammocks for the night just as the wind was preparing to begin a gusty jig.
We got rained on in Seymour Canyon. I was the only one prepared with an umbrella… or a nice husband that was prepared with an umbrella for me.
The next morning, I made birthday crepes. No nephew of mine is having yogurt for breakfast on his birthday if I can help it. Creating crepes wasn’t the easiest task given our limited supplies and the limitless breeze. They turned out perfectly edible despite the wind’s many efforts to add leaves to the batter.
Seymour Canyon’s views weren’t showy but its splashes of color were.
After some rock skipping, we broke camp and attempted, unsuccessfully, to find a trail to a row of cliffs above the water. Following that failure, we headed to Oakley for a hike up Seymour Canyon. We only trekked 3.5 miles on this path in total, but sections were drastically steep, so not all members of our group made it the whole way. Still, we had fun and earned the giant hamburgers we consumed at Billy Blanco’s on the way home.
The wet weather and demanding terrain made some members of our group less enthusiastic about our hike.
Many years from now, Benson will look back to the days when getting older felt like an accomplishment. Somewhere in that nostalgic collage, he will recollect eating birthday crepes around a campfire with some eccentric relatives. I’m proud that the crepes and eccentricity etched in that memory will be mine.
The day after our 12-hour lake excursion, another 12-hour outing commenced as we tackled the Icefields Parkway. At least this time, we didn’t hit the road at 8:30 AM; it was more like 11:30. I’m pretty sure the early bird gets nothing worth getting up for. The Icefields Parkway travels between Banff and Jasper National Parks. It’s one gorgeous lake, mountain, stream, glacier, and forest after another. We traveled along it until we reached the Athabasca Glacier, an 80-mile journey. How did 160 miles take us 12 hours? Perpetual gawking, climbing, and picture taking suck up time like a bulimic vampire sucks up body fluids.
Crowfoot Glacier claws the rocky cliffs of Crowfoot Mountain.
We stopped to see Herbert Lake, Hector Lake, Bow Lake, and Peyto Lake. Surprisingly, all those stops did not lead to lake overload. At Bow Summit, we hiked about four miles to investigate the Bow Summit Lookout. This trail rose above the timberline into grounds already covered by substantial amounts of snow. The last 200 meters of the path were particularly vertical and icy. We were cursing our lack of crampons. Despite the trickiness of the terrain, this trek was our favorite part of the day. Maybe because it left the masses behind in favor of the whistles of hoary marmots. True to Banff’s volatile nature, during this hike the weather alternated between sunny and snowing at a dizzying pace.
Bow Lake is Banff’s third-largest body of water.
Peyto Lake is a jade hue one rarely sees in nature. The crowds it gathers one also rarely sees in nature.
Jason and I made it to the Athabasca Glacier just before darkness thwarted any further explorations. We walked across the lunar-like landscape left by that retreating giant. Although we didn’t get to touch the glacier, an undertaking too dangerous without a guide, we felt and heard it exhale cold rumbling breaths. In true Sabin fashion, we kept wandering around Athabasca until it was so black we couldn’t see. We wouldn’t want to waste a second- unless, of course, that second meant getting up earlier. We didn’t make it back to Banff until 11:30 PM.
From the Bow Summit Lookout, the Mistaya Valley is a peaceful bowl freckled with lakes.
Sunwapta Pass marks the border between Banff and Jasper National Parks.
The Icefields Parkway is extraordinary. Strange peaks line it on both sides like warped sentinels in some unhurried procession, each one a perplexing singularity. To me, one looked as if a colossal drop of water was rippling out its sides. Others seemed like parts of a Hollywood set, real from the front but thin and unsubstantial from the back. Along the Parkway, rocks ascend in layers so high you can’t even see where they end. Glaciers recline on and cling to these anomalous towers, over one hundred frock their cliffs and crevices.
Marble Canyon’s narrow gap reaches depths of 200 feet.
The last day of our trip, we decided to take it easier, as in not traveling and hiking for 12 hours of the day. We went to Kootenay National Park, about a 40-minute drive. There, we walked through Marble Canyon and the Paint Pots. Marble Canyon, a picturesque fissure carved by two receding glaciers, is a perfect spot for shooting waterfalls. The Paint Pots are circular pools dyed red, orange, and yellow by oxide-bearing springs. The ochre they contain was once used by the people of the First Nation for ceremonial painting. Both of these paths were rambles more than hikes. Even with ceaseless picture taking, we got back to Banff in time to eat Canadian halibut and salmon at The Maple Leaf. Yum!
Tokumm Creek dives into Marble Canyon with enthusiastic force.
In Kootenay, iron deposits have transformed three mineral springs into pools of color.
That brings me to where all meaningful conversations eventually go- food. If you travel to Banff, plan on sampling cuisine at its many stylish restaurants. Also, be prepared to encounter Australian, British, and Irish accents practically more than Canadian ones. Tourists aren’t the only foreigners that flock to the Canadian Rockies.
If you’re a fancy hotel, it doesn’t hurt to have a fancy peak posing right behind you.
The Bow River and Mt. Rundle are as much a part of the town of Banff as the ice cream shops.
Banff was surreally stunning and shockingly cold. The sightseers were as ample as the curious crestlines but avoidable for those willing to do some footwork. Next time we visit Banff, I’ll be bringing six coats just in case.
Jason and I have been hearing wonderful things about Banff National Park in Canada the last few years. (Yes, Canada also has the whole national park thing going on.) So, we decided an investigation of the Canadian Rockies was overdue. Were the remarkable rumors all true? The beauty of Banff was unbelievable and so were the crowds. The cold was bitterer than an endive after a breakup; we didn’t expect to be snowed on repeatedly in mid-September. Yes, Banff exceeded our expectations in many ways.
Bow Falls is wide and squat thanks to wishy-washy glaciers.
Canada may be another country but flying there is quick. When our plane arrived in Calgary, it was 41 degrees out. That was about 40 degrees colder than the weather we left back home, a foreshadowing of the unanticipated chilling yet to come.
Bow Falls is easy to access, so, naturally, tourists flow to it like the waters of the Bow River.
It was dark when we reached Banff, but the next morning we awoke to a view like no other? Nope, we could have been in Kansas for all we could tell; the circling peaks were concealed by closely-gathered clouds. Stratus obstructions aside, we still ventured out on two hikes. Our first was a brief one to Bow Falls. Bow Falls, located on the Bow River, is short and fat, not your typical chute of a cascade. It was cool and cold.
Tunnel Mountain is renowned for its spectacular views. All we saw at the top were snow and mist.
On our second hike of the day, we summited Tunnel Mountain. The climb to the top of Tunnel Mountain is a local favorite because it’s only three miles long and offers views, views, views. We saw clouds, clouds, clouds… and some fog. Oh, and we got rained and snowed on. Yes, we missed much of Tunnel Mountain’s best assets, but we now have this exciting story about how we saw nearly nothing on Tunnel Mountain. Don’t be jelly! I wore a long-sleeved shirt and four jackets on our hiking outings. Yet, I was still freezing when we were done. I couldn’t get warm, even after a shower so hot it would have made Old Faithful feel inadequate.
A quiet moment in nature’s magnificence? More like a struggle not to have 40 random people included in your picture.
When we woke up the following morning, there was snow on the ground and peaks all around us that had been obscured the day before. We had been surrounded obliviously, but I don’t mind mountain stalkers so much. The clearing of the clouds didn’t mean temperatures were any warmer though. They remained in the 30s as we set out early for famous Lake Louise.
Canoeing in 30-something temps? No thanks.
Louise is the kind of lake that looks pristine and untouched but in reality, sees more action than Chuck Norris on the range. Visitors flock to her turquoise shores like glacier-fed lochs are going out of style. (Oh wait, thanks to our warming planet I guess they are.) We woke up early in order to get to Lake Louise before the parking lot filled up, which typically happens around 9:00 AM. We didn’t make it by 9:00, but we parked by 9:30. Thanks to the disagreeable weather, the parking lot didn’t completely fill until nearly 10:00. Lake Louise was still crowded though. We walked around on the Lakeshore Trail, accompanied by dozens of moseying tourists. Following that stroll, we went inside the Chateau Lake Louise for lunch and warmth; I was already freezing. I left the Chateau with another jacket (purchased not “borrowed”), making five coats my total.
Four coats proved no match for the Canadian Rockies’ capricious temperament. I shivered all the way around the lake.
After lunch, we felt like a little afternoon tea. Lake Agnes, a five-mile-roundtrip hike from Lake Louise, shelters a historic and functioning teahouse on its inhospitable shore. Yes, you can trek into the wilderness and then nibble tea and biscuits while enjoying the grandeur of a subalpine lagoon. Don’t expect electricity to come with your soup though. The trail to Lake Agnes was busy and largely covered in snow and ice. Let’s see how good you are at irrational algebra. Tourists not used to hiking + steep snow-covered slopes =? You guessed it; we passed many floundering “hikers” wearing inappropriate footwear like dress boots and traction-less tennis shoes. There was a whole lot of slipping going on.
The Chateau Lake Louise was built over 100 years ago. It’s proof that the price and age of accommodations are not always inversely related.
And that fifth coat I purchased? I never took it off. Despite the uphill climb, I only unzipped a few of my jackets for about 15 minutes in total. However, the surreal experience of being served biscuits and room-temperature lemonade in a lofty piece of the planet made my chilled innards acceptable.
Though not as dramatically hued, Lake Agnes has a rugged grace.
Although the trails were slick, we decided to keep heading up from Lake Agnes to Little Beehive, a mile jaunt each way. This turned out to be our favorite part of the day. The views were incredible, Lake Louise was visible, and the crowds were invisible. Coming down wasn’t as dicey as we feared it would be. Jason struggled a bit but nothing compared to the thrashing tourists we passed in their equestrian boots.
Moraine Lake is less than half the size of Lake Louise, but size really doesn’t matter. We both preferred it to its larger counterpart.
Before heading back to Banff, we detoured to Moraine Lake. Moraine Lake, nestled in the Valley of the Ten Peaks, was even lovelier than Lake Louise, and the crowds knew it. Even though darkness was approaching, tourists clung to boulders in all directions snapping their mandatory pictures. We took the Rockpile Trail to appreciate the view that used to be on the Canadian $20 bill.
Next week, you will find out just what we did on our final days in Banff. Oh, the thrill of exploring the Canadian Rockies vicariously through my long-winded mediocre writing!
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