Itinerary

August 19th. I got a quick satellite phone call from Paula, just then at Berg Lake picking up a food stash. All was well, she'd succesfully forded a waist-deep river, and had just called to get some trail information. On to Kakwa Lake!

2^nd instalment: Coleman to Kananaskis Lakes. The Tortoise Walks On.

For those of you who were wondering what happened to the Summit Lake portion of the hike down in Waterton, I forgot in the last instalment to mention that journalist Lynn Martel walked with me that day; her article will come out in the Calgary Herald, Thursday July 12^th, so pick up a copy and read all about it.

I had thought I would be ready for a rest day, and shower, upon reaching Coleman. Oddly, I wasn’t ready for a rest day, or “civilization”, it seemed a bit surreal. My body was feeling strong, and in fine fettle, other than the blisters. At any rate, I was very well treated by Alannah and Dan at A Safe Haven B&B. Of course they treat everyone well, but are especially good to GDT hikers!

The morning I left Coleman did not bode well, I slept in a little late, and dropped my toothbrush in the toilet. Had planned to get up early, as the forecast was for around 30 degrees and I wanted to take advantage of the cooler morning temperatures. It was a long, hot walk up the Allison Creek road, and my Go-Lite umbrella, the only shade for much of the day. Also was able to walk in sandals again, bliss for the blisters! The road was very peaceful, only a couple of people in vehicles passed me, and they all slowed down, or stopped to chat, apologizing for the dust they created. One fellow let me know that this was an area where “problem bears” are released, so to be careful (this was around “mile 14”). I did see some large tracks here and there, never any claw marks, so assumed it to be a black bear. At any rate, I covered about 34 km that day, (road becomes ATV trail, many unmarked intersections, ), found a lovely camping spot with not too many mosquitoes, a good food-hang tree, and a lively serenade by the local avian contingent. I didn’t lose any sleep over the bear thing, but did wake in the middle of the night to calm weather, and an absence of mosquitoes… I took advantage to lie half in and half out of my little tent, and indulged in a little star-gazing, something I dearly miss while living in the city.

On to Tornado pass, and Tornado Mountain saddle. The route up to Tornado pass is gentle and easy, it was almost a surprise to come upon the boundary monument. Also saw a few interesting tracks, one set, I believe, belonged to a fellow GDT hiker, I had seen them off and on since Sage Pass. The other seemed to be the same large black bear as yesterday, with the addition of fresh scat. He didn’t seem hungry, just on the move; no evidence of diggings, though there were some luscious glacier lilies nearby. Meadows below Tornado Saddle were full of flowers: Forget-me-nots, buttercups, and loads of allium. As I sat chewing on a wild onion stem, I thought there wasn’t anywhere in the world I would rather be, and that I must be one of the luckiest women alive. The route up to the saddle was steep schmanky scree, the one-step-up-slide-back-three kind of stuff. Fortunately the elevation gain wasn’t great, but it did take a long time for such a short distance. At the col, found a cairn and summit register placed by Sonny Bou a couple of years ago. I added my name, making a total of five, not a well traveled route. Also found the name and e-mail address of the other mysterious GDT hiker, the tracks I had been seeing off and on the past days. The way down the other side was also steep, but much easier being vegetated, mountain avens to begin with, then alpine meadow plants. In contrast with his counterpart on the other side of the mountain, the bear inhabiting this slope was definitely into excavation, several areas had been “roto-tilled”. Suddenly, the route has become “civilized” in nature, good hiking trail in contrast with ATV trails or no trail at all, orange GDT markers on the trees, I feel as if I am on a pilgrimage route in Europe! Routefinding will be much simpler over the next while! Even the camping sites have food-hang poles; the one at South Hidden Creek had some character, someone had built a rough table, and nailed a painting of Castle Mountain to a tree.

The route wandered to the Beehive area next, and I spotted my first live bears, a lovely light cinnamon/strawberry blonde sow grizzly and cub, high on the avalanche slopes near Hidden Creek. I wished them well over the upcoming long weekend noise/mayhem of ATV traffic. As the day progressed, there were a few moments of confusion over the routefinding, but I managed to make good decisions, and not get off track for more than very short periods of time. Clouds had been building in the later afternoon, and rather quickly. Coming around the shoulder of the ridge to the Beehive meadows, a bolt of lightning shot out, it appeared on the far side of the Beehive. The face of the mountain immediately exploded, as if a charge of dynamite had gone off! An enormous cloud of dust, then massive, ongoing rockfall, awe inspiring. It took several minutes for the dust to settle, meanwhile I was deciding whether to get into lightning-defence mode (crouching on closed-cell foam pad, ears covered). I was feeling no static charge, and counting the seconds between lightening and thunder, it seemed the storm was moving away from me, I wasn’t excessively exposed, so I just watched the show for a bit. I love thunderstorms, they definitely add to the wild ambience of wild places! Precipitation was obvious to the north and east, however the nastiness circumvented and left me dry. Again there was a little bit of confusion amongst several good trails, but I managed to find the correct routes. In this area, if you see blue splotches of paint, this indicates approach trails, not the GDT. I had expected Memory Lake to be very busy with ATVs over the long weekend, but there was nary a sign of anyone. At this point, it had been several days since I had seen anyone, not since that first day out of Coleman.

I had to eat humble pie around the Lost Galena Miracle Mine regarding the routefinding thing, I had been feeling a bit cocky up to that point, pleased with my prowess. Got off track a bit, first going too high at the mine area, which was fine because the views were great. At the last ridge, where the route should have followed the ridge down, I went OVER the ridge and down instead, having spied a bit of good trail below, and thinking that was the way to go; that particular trail faded, but trails often do, so carried on thinking I would pick it up again. Suffice to say there was subsequently a whole lot of unnecessary bushwhacking (though I found an obscure overgrown trail to a lovely waterfall, but I was in no mood for waterfalls at that point) and wasted a few hours getting back to where I needed to be. Anyhow, I decided that getting off track at times is part of the GDT experience, and I sort of enjoyed figuring out where I needed to be, and finding my way there; no real harm done, except lost time, and how relevant is time out here anyhow? As I plodded my way along, I thought, I am really like a solitary tortoise, carrying my house on my back, one foot in front of the other… I have never been a fast walker, rather a steady one, not taking many breaks, but walking long days. This trip is not about reaching the destination in a certain time, (though I do have a loose itinerary, and if I am too long overdue, someone will call out the searchers…I sort of find that restricting, in a way, but a necessary concession for a solo journey) but it is about the journey itself, each footstep, each breath along the way. I am the journey. (Getting ahead of myself, but this was reinforced when I got to the Elk Pass trailhead, and found an entry in a trail register, another GDT hiker who walked 360km in 9 days, and was “exhausted, exhausted, exhausted!” That, I decided is not my journey, and I love where I am at in this process; not to negate the experience of those who do prefer to push themselves to physical and mental exhaustion, but that is their choice, and their journey.)

The flowers are coming into their prime in many areas, once found a particularly riotous display of silky scorpion weed, like fireworks, delightful. Immediately wanted to take a picture, to preserve it; then wondered why the urge to possess the flower, why couldn’t just enjoy it in the here and now. Decided not to take the picture, and not to take any pictures if it was simply a matter of wanting to possess the object. I generally take pictures to remind myself of places/events, which I might otherwise forget, being of poor memory; or, to share the experience with others.

Enough philosophizing, on with the GDT! According to the guidebook, windfall used to choke this area; fortunately, the volunteer GDT trail crew has been thru since, cleared trail, and refreshed the paint marks. I was extremely grateful for their efforts, travel was very easy. Didn’t find the trail register at Lost Creek, I think it no longer exists. Free range cows roamed about, and again, I felt as if I was in Europe, only the multiplicity of bells were missing. I random camped just before the Cataract Plateau; during the night, heard hoofbeats approaching, a snort, and then a frantic scurrying away. A short while later, the hoofbeats tentatively approached the tent again. “Poor deer/elk/moose must be coming back to check if it is hallucinating” I thought. The critter scurried away again, slightly less frantically this time, and did not return. In the morning, a moose came by from another direction to say “hello”, but did not linger. As I set out on the trail, I encountered the most ferocious creature thus far, a blue spruce grouse hen who had gotten up on the wrong side of the nest. She followed me down the trail, making aggressive passes, “yawking” hoarsely, as if she had laryngitis, and generally trying to intimidate me. Likely had a nest in the area; had she been larger, of greater stature, I would have been very afraid!

Cataract Plateau is a delight, lovely ridgewalk, and it was a treat to watch a couple of young bull elk at one point. The Etherington area snowmobile trail was fairly “brainless” walking, but I got really screwed up again on the route to Baril Creek. There have been clearcuts and bulldozing, and the trailhead is not clear. I went up where I thought it should be, and where my GPS and map said it ought to be. I was aiming for the “lunch stop meadow”, a bald spot on the mountain at 2020m. I saw a bald spot up the mountain, and thought I would likely come across the trail if I aimed for it; also there was some flagging, but of course there is flagging everywhere around clear-cuts. It soon became obvious that the flagging was for the benefit of loggers, not hikers, but headed generally in the appropriate direction, and I was confident of intersecting the trail. At least, this theory had worked numerous times before! I went up, up, up, and the bush got thicker and nastier. My GPS told me I was at 1910 metres, which should have clued me in that it was very wrong, but I trusted the darn thing, and ascended higher. Finally used my brain in conjunction with the GPS and the map, and figured out I was actually way higher than I needed to be, the trail was below and in a different direction, and that the bald spot was NOT the lunch stop meadow. It was a brutal, time consuming, and painstaking bushwhack down, but I did intersect the trail a good distance below, (the most beautiful trail in the world, at that point! AND a beautiful orange GDT marker!) also found the real “lunch stop meadow”. My GPS gave me an altimeter reading of 2010m at that point. I ruminated along the way that I have NEVER been so off track until using a GPS. Note to self, make sure brain is in gear when the GPS is on.

The Baril Creek register was shattered, the plastic binder was on the ground, pages all missing (hopefully salvaged by a previous hiker), looked as if the porcupines had been snacking on the lovely red painted box, red paint being a rare treat for wilderness porcupines! A short while later, met two women out for the weekend, Adrian and Anne. They were a cheerful lot, and we shared a camping spot for the evening, I enjoyed their down-to-earth energy (though we were all a bit tired in fact). They kindly agreed to call my partner Simon with the news that I was a day behind in the dreaded schedule, so he would not be concerned if I didn’t show up as planned.

Fording River Pass was a straightforward walk up, and the last of the friendly GDT markers. I followed the snowmobile trail to the big sign, as indicated in the GDT guidebook. The wooden tripod marking the watershed has collapsed, but the views were fabulous. It is a loooong way down the other side, and paranoid over the mistakes I made the last couple of days, I stopped at intersections to double check my location on the map, and the route, but there were no problems. The route is overgrown with willows at some points, but they just sort of droop over the trail, easy to get thru. There is a very nice camping spot at the bottom, and had I not decided to make more km that day, would have stayed. The vegetation changed drastically on the way down, and there was the heady, intoxicating scent of lowland flowers; clover, yarrow, paintbrush, sticky geranium, and so on. Isn’t it rather convenient that hikers can appreciate the subtle scents of nature, yet not smell their own grossly stinky selves?

The Elk Valley Powerline Road, and Elk Valley Road were pleasant enough, again able to walk in sandals, good views, and only a handful of vehicles. Those in SUV’s with Thule boxes inevitably drove by quickly, while the company truck, ATV crowd, and OHV folks would slow down, wave, and often stop briefly to apologize for the dust they created. The Cadorna trailhead is 1km south of the Bighorn outfitters, I trotted down, had one look at the Elk River, and decided that late autumn would likely be a MUCH better time to do that alternative, the river was high and fast. It was another beautiful camping spot for the night though, I would highly recommend it, but it looks like it could be a party hot-spot for the Elkford crowd on weekends. I had it to myself, and enjoyed more star-gazing that night. Next day, met a couple of guys on bicycles, “from The Bay Area”. That would be San Francisco Bay, I thought, not Hudsons. Ever notice that people from San Francisco are not from San Francisco, but “The Bay Area”? We had a pleasant chat, they had cycled from Jasper, and they kindly inquired if I had enough food. Elk Lakes was straightforward walking, and a very lovely spot tried to take some photos, but again was frustrated by the lack of wide angle capacity on my digital camera. You will just have to go see it yourself! Especially striking was the heavy and heady aroma of evergreen forest. I started planning a ski trip for winter! Could have walked out that day, found myself in no rush to get back to that other world, so pitched the tent. Had the usual afternoon thunder, lightening, and rain, though interestingly it seemed concentrated around the Cadorna Lake vicinity. I was glad not to be up there! Most of the precipitation again circumvented my general area, the weather-gods have been magnanimous, or perhaps it is the energy of all those kind people who told me they were praying for good weather.

Trotted down to the West Elk Pass Trailhead (didn’t see the GDT trail register, though honestly I didn’t look hard, but it wasn’t obvious at the trail junction; I think it has gone the way of the others, into oblivion. Also forgot to look for the boundary monuments placed by Wilcox all those years ago, mornings are not my best time of day), where the bulk of Mt Intefatigueable was a welcoming friend, I was back in familiar territory. At the parking lot, had a chat with two George’s from Calgary, the younger off for a hike to Elk Lake, and the elder, a delightful 88 year old retired geologist, who kindly drove me to the Peter Lougheed info centre. Had a chat with Loren from Edmonton, he generously gave me a donation for Child Haven. Friends Gill and Pete Ford in Canmore, gracious as always, helped out with transportation, a bed for the night, wonderful food and conversation. Spent the next day organizing permits in Banff, (the Parks Canada employee also spontaneously gave me a Child Haven donation! It is so heartwarming when that happens!) stocking up on food, and catching up on “stuff”, also enjoyed a flying visit from my partner Simon. Fortified for the next part of the journey, my tortoise shell home re-packed, blisters a non-issue (as long as they are patched with duct tape and blister pads) on to Sunshine!

Installment 3: Kananaskis Lakes to Sunshine. Follow Your Bliss.

Set out VERY EARLY for Kananaskis, up at 0430. For some reason, I found it difficult to sleep in a real bed, tossed and turned until about 0200. Simon dropped me off at the parking lot, I made my way up thru the Interlakes trail, and up to the forks. It was fun watching a dipper bird for a bit, one of my favourite avians; especially cheery in winter to come across the little brown bobbing creature along fast moving creeks, definitely a hardy soul! Met a group of campers who invited me to sit for tea, they had been up exploring the area for a couple of days. Had a lovely visit, and one was kind enough to offer me her measuring cup/eating bowl. In the flurry of packing that morning, I had forgotten my yogurt-container which doubled as cup and bowl, and was resigned to eating/drinking out of my cooking pot for the next five days. I was grateful, and warmed by their hospitality carried on in a lighter mood. The destination was S. Kanananskis pass, rather than North, as I had already done the north, and my intention is to cover new ground when opportunity presents. It was a short day’s walk to Beatty Lake, and I found a grassy flat spot for the tent, and even some firewood and kindling ready to go (though I didn’t use it, rarely have fires when hiking). I walked to the lake for some water, gone less than 2 minutes, and came back to find the local renegade ground squirrel in my tent. He had already done some damage to the mosquito netting, definitely not a member of the welcoming committee! Chased him off, and zippered up the door. That night I heard him several times, doing unidentifiable things around the tent wall. I would smack the side of the tent, and he would scurry away. Next morning, found my two hiking poles side by side, about 20 feet down the hill, handles nicely remodelled. Oh well, less weight to carry! He must be of the same gene pool as those Kaibab squirrels down in the Grand Canyon area; I almost fell down laughing at signs there with dire warnings about the squirrels, somehow they just don’t seem threatening when you’re accustomed to hiking in grizzly country.

Gillean Daffern says in her Kananaskis Country Trail Guide that you are almost certain to lose the trail down to LeRoy Creek in over the head willow bushes. I would remove the word “almost” from that statement. Not sure there IS a trail, it does just disappear, and the whacking is horrible. I’ll spare you the details, as there is more of that to come. Found my way to Leroy Creek, and a bit of trail, worked my way thru the fords as described in the guidebooks, and on the map, and kept looking for the Palliser. Eventually, the trail died after a ford, and bushwhacking commenced again. Checking the GPS and map frequently, carefully, and according to the data kept travelling downstream. I was getting apprehensive, the water was higher and faster, and there was a ford of the Palliser coming up, I wondered how that would go if Leroy was getting this wild! Checked the GPS and map again, and to my puzzlement found I had overshot the confluence, though a short time before it seemed I had to continue travel downstream for some distance! I was already on the Palliser, but below where I needed to be to pick up the trail. Whacked my way back up again, and found the confluence, the Palliser above the meeting of the waters was infantile, easily forded at just about knee-deep (I am 5’11”). It was so small, it looked as if a bit of Leroy Creek had meandered around some bushes, and made its way back again. Must have been in the bush when I walked by it the first time.

I was extremely relieved, according to the guidebooks and the map that there was good trail along the bank, and things would be much easier from then on. The search for the trail commenced. Found something which split at a bog, the boggy part of course fading out, and looking more as if used by game, while the other good trail followed the direction of the river, as it ought to. Of course I took the good trail…. Wrong. It petered out in about 400m. Thought I could pick it up again (stupid optimism), and started whacking again….spent the next several hours either going up the stream in the direction I needed to, or going sideways in the direction that lovely trail was supposed to be. I did not intersect it, though sometimes my GPS said I overshot it. Perhaps I crossed it at an overgrown spot, or perhaps, the guidebooks being a few years old, the trail had grown over… but that just didn’t make sense. Nothing was making sense. I was beginning to have fantasies involving chainsaws and barrels of Round-Up. Also getting worried, because there was An upcoming ford at which time I HAD to find the trail, otherwise bushwhacking up to the pass would have taken days… or, I would have to backtrack to N Kananaskis pass, and figure out a completely different route. My shins were flagellated bloody by brambles, gooseberry bushes and willows, I was grateful that this is not devils club country! Finally at 1645 found the most beautiful trail in the world, and from then on it was the lovely, pleasant, easy walk I had envisioned. Actually, it could have been a trail to Regina, and I would have followed it, rather than bushwhacking anywhere again! In retrospect, the route was likely thru the bog. I was dumbfounded to find redundant orange flagging tape on the very obvious switchbacks part of the trail, and wondered where the hell the flagging was when you really needed it. Was feeling inept, but consoled somewhat by the knowledge that numerous others have had stories of similar experience in that area. Anyhow, the horrors over, (this was my worst day on the GDT) it was enjoyable to observe the development of the river on the approach to the headwaters, sometimes it was a docile little brook, while in other areas raging white water spewed in a most unruly manner over cliffs. Far short of my goal of camping at Burstall campground that night, Palliser Lake was a most welcoming alternative. The lake was that spectacular “Moraine Lake Green” at its deeper end, and it was fascinating that this placid little body of water is the source of the Palliser River. I like travelling to the sources of rivers, whether glaciers or lakes. As it is good to know where one’s food comes from, so it is also to know where one’s water comes from.

On down the Spray Valley the next day, and following another river’s path! The Spray meanders slowly thru a bog, where trail sometimes becomes waterway, and old waterways sometimes become trail. Sometimes I just waded, it felt so good on the beaten shins, and spent some time fish-watching. Stopped for a snack at the Burstall Campground intersection, when suddenly a brown hairy bum appeared about 30 feet away, and below me in the willows. The head of the creature was down, and cautiously rising up for a look, I was relived to see a set of antlers at the other end of the beast. A young bull moose, velvet coming off the antlers, and his companion, another bull a short distance away. We spent a companionable time munching our respective meals.

Again I am in familiar territory. The bog gave way to more solid ground, (by the way, the Burstall Pass intersection is still unmarked, so don’t get sidetracked) and it was a very enjoyable walk down to the Watridge junction and up Bryant Creek. Suddenly, everything is manicured, groomed; the wood chips on the trail were damp, and gave an even more heavenly aroma of evergreens enhanced by fresh rain.

Camped at Big Springs, wanted to be close to the Owl Lake junction, to do the Marvel Pass route. The barometer was rising, and I thought the usual afternoon rumblings would blow over as usual. Thor decided to play hardball with the mountain spirits, it was quite a show, and during the night resumed again…. And the rain persisted. Dawn arrived, with the avian choir, and more rain. Refreshing though, it has been hot and dry for days. Made the decision to do the Wonder Pass route to Assiniboine, zippered the tent back up, and enjoyed a snooze. Started late, about 8am, wandered thru the rain to Marvel Lake. Had been thru here over 20 years ago, and the photo I got today was almost exactly the same, all rain, cloud, and mist. Enroute past Marvel Lake to the pass, the landscape had a gothic appearance, walls of rock with turret/castellated-like features, draped in mist and cloud. Wonder Pass was wonderful beyond description. I tried to take a few pictures, but again frustrated with the limitations of my camera… you will have to just go there to see it yourself. (or check out Don Beers book) I fell in love again, one of the most beautiful places you can imagine, even in pouring rain. Wildflowers, and HEALTHY larches (most of the larches up to this point of the journey have looked decidedly unhealthy, with browning needles…is this a symptom of global warming?), also an excellent vantage point for Marvel Pass, must return to do that one day. I seemed to be a hit with a group of Japanese gentlemen out hiking, as their guide translated my story, and a question-and-answer session, cameras emerged and began snapping away. Last time I was at Assiniboine, I skied to Wonder Pass, but seems most glorious in summer, or perhaps autumn when the larches are turning. Taking time to drink it in, I suddenly recalled that my horoscope for the beginning of 2006 said this would be the year I followed my bliss. Yes.

At Assiniboine Lodge, tea is served to hikers between 4 and 5 pm. Having been fantasizing along the trail about bacon, and things fried in bacon grease, I decided to take advantage. Had some time to kill before the designated hour, so sat on a bench watching Assiniboine (fresh snow on the peak), the clouds, Magog Lake (there was a break in the rain). Who needs TV? The folks at the Lodge, upon hearing I was a GDT hiker, welcomed me warmly and treated me well. I enjoyed several cups of tea, and a large plate of various loaves (Afternoon tea price is $7), leaving fantasies of bacon far behind. There are some of Bruno Engler’s photos on display, as well as a couple of portraits of Ken Jones. (If you haven’t already checked it out, I would highly recommend reading the biography “Ken Jones, Mountain Man”. Thank goodness someone had the foresight to sit down and record Ken’s stories) Also had a visit with some American hikers in for tea, and again one of them spontaneously offered a donation for Child Haven. Belly full, and warm, I shouldered my pack and headed off to my camp for the night at Og Lake.

Waters of Og Lake are warm, as if fed by thermal springs. Shared the campsite with a couple from Regina, who had just run a ½ marathon the day before. It was a chilly night, I poked my head out once, to see an almost full moon over Assiniboine. Frost on the tent in the morning was evidence to how cold it really was, and made it a little more difficult to climb out of the sleeping bag. As I dipped a pot in the lake for coffee water, I found thousands of tiny red creatures, which weren’t there the night before, all along the shoreline. I’ve never seen such critters in mountain waters, they were shaped rather like something out of the Burgess Shale, but smaller; sort of tear-dropped, with antenna and little cilia for moving about with. Perhaps Ben Gadd’s “Handbook of the Canadian Rockies” can shed some light on what they are.

Up over Citadel Pass, and on to Sunshine, again an enjoyable route, with some work involved to get to the pass, but rewards of splendid views and wildflowers… though for some reason the wildflowers lower down, close to Rock Isle Lake and the Village were none existent. Met several people the closer I got to Sunshine, visited with a women’s hiking group from Calgary. I found myself walking slower as I approached Sunshine, I just did not want this to end….

Caught the bus from Sunshine to Banff, and now am back in Calgary packing for that previously planned climbing. Feeling fit and strong, still highly recommend seeing a good physio (Lalitha at Brentwood Physio, to be exact) for preparatory knee exercises, also she was the one who recommended hiking with double poles. I haven’t taken any anti-inflammatories, herbal or pharmaceutical, and I feel great. Will resume the GDT hike on July 24^th, Sunshine to Field segment. Meanwhile, thanks to everyone who has given me support, you know who you are! Namaste and Happy Trails!

Until July 24^th : GONE CLIMBING!

(The Alpine Club of Canada Centennial General Mountaineering Camp, http://www.alpineclubofcanada.ca/activities/gmc.html#gmc)

Above, the highest mountain in the Cariboos, Mt. Sir Wilfred Laurier. (date should read July 14th, 2006)

Paula climbed this, and other peaks, on her "week off" from her 1,200 kilometer Great Divide Trail hike.

Two Canmore friends walked this portion with me. I carried all my usual gear and food and they managed theirs. We walked at different speeds but camped at the same places. I wondered if this affected the "solo" designation of my hike but people told me no, not like that just for a few days.

From Sunshine over Healy Pass was delightful flower meadows, some past their prime, marked with old bear diggings. Past Egypt Lake, then high alpine terrain to Ball Pass campground.

I'd bought a "flare/bear-banger" set on my last stopover, having lost my airhorn in a bout of bushwhacking, but the screw-in trigger fell out rendering it useless.

Ball Pass; we could see the headwall/waterfall below Floe Lake, and it looked a loooong way off! Down Hawk Creek through the old burn, surprised to see as much fleabane as fireweed. Fireweed on the Floe Lake approach was often over head-height. Floe Lake was a welcome respite from the heat. We managed a skinny-dip before the sun went behind the ridge, albeit a quick one.

Later in the evening a thundershower only spat on our camp, but rained enough across the ridges to produce an amazing rainbow (I'll post some pictures later, when I get the camera downloaded). The Glaciers along the Rockwall are receding as everywhere, but still majestic.

Numerous people on the route, a real contrast from the remote travel earlier on the GDT. Tumbling campground felt like a car-capground, packed full, people sitting around playing cards and smoking. I longed for the simplicity of a random wilderness camp.

Amazing views continued through Helmet Falls (the second highest waterfall in the Rockies). Next, over the Goodsirs Pass. Very dry by the way, no water to be had either in the pass or for a long way down the other side. We were the only campers at MacArthur campground, and reveled in it. We met no one other than warden after leaving Tumbling Campground, until we got to the highway for the last few kilometers. Barb and Catherine hitched, but I walked every step. I couldn't help noticing the garbage strewn by the side of the road: coffee cups, fast-food containers, beer cans... I sort of wondered how people who throw garbage around treat their own bodies.

I met Paula and her two friends in Field, sitting on the patio at the Truffle Pigs Cafe just finishing supper. Catherine was impressed by the distance they'd covered in a few days, and amazed at the total distance Paula had undertaken. They headed back to Canmore and Paula and I stayed with friends in Field.

Paula discovered that an important map for the next portion of her hike had gotten mis-packed and was back in Calgary. She managed to locate another at the bookstore in Lake Louise so I made a quick motorcycle ride there, just in time as the store was closing. Thanks, Rachel, for waiting.

I fixed Paula's "bear banger", which was missing a part, with a handy wood screw. Careful, they can be set up for either "center-fire" or "rim-fire" flares and cartridges. The morning she left Field, Sunday, we tested it down by the Kicking Horse River. Whoosh! A nice big flare arced out over the river and burned on down. I felt better.

I watched her walk away one more time. It felt a bit like the first departure, down in Waterton, she said.

I seem to have misplaced my notes from the first few days of this, I think they might have got waterlogged... at any rate, hiked up the Amiskwi and made good progress up the fire road, able to walk in sandals much of the way.
Some berries lower down, and it looked as if two different bears had been thru. A bit overgrown in places, but some recent clearing by the warden in the worst areas higher up. It was a bit chilly and drizzly, definately not the hot dusty walk it used to be. The fords were fine, just about calf deep at most.

I camped near one of the fords, higher up near the pass there is no water, the creek is dry. Over the pass there was flagging to indicate the trail, and there were no difficulties routefinding. On the way down the road to the Blaeberry, flowers lent a festive air to the walk; pearly everlasting, solidago, fleabane, paintbrush, and aster.
Generally the flowers were on the decline, past their prime. Interesting how things have changed, the alpine
summer season is short; at first, I was seeing robin's eggshells, and new little hatchlings about. Now I am seeing adolescent birds stretching their wings, especially among the grouse. There are a few smaller younger broods, but these tend to be fewer in their numbers, only one or two, whereas the birds with adolescent families tend to have larger numbers of three or four.

Previously birds had woken me in the mornings at about 4:30, now there seem to be few birds calling in the morning, and the days are getting shorter more in the morning than evening. Now I awaken about 5:30 or 6:30, depending on how forested the area I am in, and how much sunlight gets thru.
Met up with warden Reg, who stopped on his way down with horse trailer. He gave me some trail advice, also mentioned the old Amiskwi trail down. It sounded interesting, but involved a ford of the Blaeberry, not an option at this time. After an enjoyable chat about horses and wilderness, we carried
on our separate ways.

For anyone thinking of driving to Cairnes creek, there was a recent washout on the Blaeberry road about 3km before the camp, it had fallen into the river, and was red-ribboned off. No problem for walkers, but others should check the most recent info before driving. I felt sorry for the person who's truck was parked at Cairnes Creek, porcupine fenced off, they would come back from their hike to that nasty surprise. Definitely a "use at your own risk" road!

The dreaded Cairnes Cr. ford had a lovely new metal bridge across it, as did the Lambe creek ford. Trail outside the park on the David Thompson trail had been recently cleared, but there was still a bit of deadfall here and there.

Also loads of ripe huckleberries, and since it was outside the park I indulged in several handfuls, reasoning I needed some vitamin C from fresh food in my diet. A bit of older bear sign, so more noise was in order.

I had a great trail description for Howse Pass from someone's website, sorry don't have the reference now, but will post it later. There was a LOT of deadfall, but it was sort of fun to work my way around/thru/over/under it. Usually the best way was around. It would be an almost impossible trail to keep completely clear, I think; the forest floor consisted almost completely of old dead trees overgrown with moss. Likely some dated back 200 years to when David Thompson first went thru. I imagined the pack trains with axe men hard at work clearing the trail. There was another route one could take, partially along the river, for some km before it rejoins the route thru the woods, but I decided to take the trail less traveled thru the woods that day. Some prefer the mucky icy river braids on the flood plain, and there is some nice walking also along dryas flats. There is also one area where the trail swings quite far to the left, and it seems very wrong, but that is indeed the trail to follow.

There were reasurring bits of orange ribbon here and there, and route finding really wasn't that difficult, it is just a section which needs extra time. I had resigned myself to that, and decided I would rather hike the Howse ten times than repeat that day bushwhacking down from S. Kananaskis pass and up the lower part of the Palliser just once. I was almost getting concerned over a campsite, but popped out of the woods onto dryas flats at just the right time. Downstream a bit further the trail has washed out into the river, necessitating some whacking thru heavy bush, but only for about 30 feet. Met Dan, who was doing the GDT from Jasper to Waterton. He was also doing a tracklog for Gem Trek Maps, to correct a few errors on the map for that section (I was using the Gem Trek map, and the internet trail reference mentioned earlier mentioned this error. Glad to know that it is being corrected, the maps are really an excellent resource). I think the general condition of the lower part of the trail depends on your luck of the draw on when the trail crews have last been thru. Various descriptions call it either the best or worst part. It improved vastly for me after the Glacier Lake junction (don't even think about this ford, unless you are on horseback).

An easy jaunt to Miette canyon, and the road. For some reason, everyone at Miette Canyon seemed surly and unhappy. Too bad. A stop at Sask Crossing for a good hefty meal, and up the road again to Owen Creek. This trail also had been recently cleared in spots lower down, also some fresh trail-building seemed to have been done in other areas. Thanks to whomever did the work!

Higher up and further into the White Goat Wilderness the trail got rougher, and more difficult and time consuming. Lower down there are some good camping spots as well. Later I would wander out of the creek bed and up onto the alpine area to the right, to find them heavily excavated by grizzlies. Up to the first pass, and the weather was deteriorating, thunder and a bit of rain.

Route finding was very easy, but no trail. Michelle lakes were lovely, but I really wanted to get over the next pass, (the highest on the GDT) before the weather broke, so hurried on. Also, I had a strong gut feeling (I always listen to those) which was telling me this was NOT a good place to be... came across several sets of grizzly tracks, from what I could make out likely a sow with two adolescents in tow. Rain started as I got to the high point of the pass, (No trail here, but navigating is simple, obvious where to go) and some curious sheep followed my progress. Found bear tracks on the other side of the pass as well, but not the same nasty feeling as around Michelle lakes.

Weather was REALLY deteriorating as I dropped down to tree level; I found a spot to camp near an old horse camp, no bear sign at all there. Just got the tent up and made a food hang when the hail started pounding, and I rehydrated supper gratefully in the shelter of the tent fly. Thunder, lightning and rain persisted off and on thru the night.

Next morning there was a break in the rain, and the sky looked as if it could go either way. The barometer hadn't really moved, and I set off for the next high pass. I picked up the horse packer's trail, and found extensive bear excavations on the way up. Suddenly, the weather became extremely foul. Snow, lightning, thunder as I approached the area of the pass. Soon, the trail was indiscernible, and I was navigating under white-out conditions, thunder cracking above. I counted the seconds. 5 seconds, then 3. Ugly. About 4-6 inches of snow fell within an hour. That map which Simon sped off to get from Field got me thru, though it was totally waterlogged and ruined. I also found out my waterproof gloves had lost their mo-jo, but Zip-lock bags and duct tape can make a great substitute in a pinch! (I found out later, when I got to Jasper, that they were evacuating people by helicopter off the Skyline trail during the same storm). I was thankful to drop down into the valley, where the snow transformed to drizzle. Though the guidebook said to keep above the creek, it didn't make a lot of sense, the creek was flat, and traversing the ups and downs of terrain was getting tedious. I dropped to the creek, and picked up the packers trail again at the one point it came out by the creek, almost mistook it at first for a side channel, it was running with so much water. It was a straightforward jaunt down to Pinto Lake, but cold. It seemed a long way down, from when I first saw the lake, to the camp. If I hadn't been meeting my food drop friends the next day, I likely would have pitched camp at Pinto, but felt it best to carry on. For those who care, there is a toilet there now. The ford of the Cataract was a little ways down the trail, and it was not a problem, just below knee-deep. My GPS told me the creek was 5km away, when I had just crossed it. Good thing I can read a map and compass. Trail has some deadfall, but not nearly as bad as the Howse. I walked until almost dark, then found a little spot to camp not far off the trail. No water but what was in my bottle, enough for a good supper with a bit left over. Much to my dismay, I found my sleeping bag quite wet, though it had been in its silnylon bag with a garbage bag around it. Clothes in the same bag were not wet. It was a rather miserable night, I don't think my feet got warm until almost 4 am, and it was wretched to get up and put on cold wet socks and shoes. My fingers were cold enough not to be numb, but painful, for a good hour. I found a lovely spot in the open in the sun near a little stream (how lovely, the sun glinting off the water that morning!) and made a steaming cup of coffee, enjoying the warmth seeping thru my body.

Off and on thru the trees, one gets glimpses of the most wondrous peaks, and glaciers, and views get better as one gets up the valley and into the alpine. Truly an incredible place, and the mountains looked all the better for the dusting of snow highlighting the relief.

I went up a little towards Cline pass before cutting over to the Cataract approach... Cline looked very interesting, will have to check that out for future reference. Cataract pass was spectacular, with a trail, but that was under about 4 inches of snow. Still easy to pick the way, with cairns here and there. Definately more cairns and better trail on the down side, I slid and "skied" my way down quickly. The Brazeau headwaters are also wild and worth a visit, even just a side trip from Nigel Pass trail. I recall hiking the Nigel Pass trail to the Brazeau turn off a few years ago, and paused to look longingly up the Cataract valley, wondering what it was like...now I know!

Once down to the Nigel Pass trail, I trotted out even more quickly, hoping to catch up with Malgosia and Dana, my overburdened friends with my food drop. I had hoped to get to camp early, so I could get back and relieve them of their loads. Each time I saw a group of people I would run up, hoping it was them, but in fact they arrived at the camp 1/2 hour before me. It was a wonderful reunion, they had gone above and beyond duty, fetching in wine, brie, cambozola, bernard callebeaut chocolate, and fresh tomatoes! The weather was lovely, and my sleeping bag was soon dry in the sun(Happiness is a dry sleeping bag)!

Next day they walked with me partway, and it was difficult to say goodbye.
Weather was lovely over the next section of the Glacier trail, however thick smoke from the Southesk fires inhibited most photographic inclinations I might have had. I did particularily enjoy (and who wouldn't) wandering the high alpine terrain on those sunny afternoons. I booked shorter trail days when I got my permits, to give me time to enjoy this area as I hadn't hiked much past Nigel Pass in the past, also I wanted to be rested up for the final push to Kakwa Lake, which I anticipated would be the most difficult. Much of the mass of glaciers have melted, but the power they once exerted is still manifest in the appearance of the landscape. Troubling also is seeing the rapid recession in recent years; I wondered what this area would look like in a few decades, would it be desert? Would we be hiking with gallons of water, if we are still hiking here at all? And what is my part, and that of humanity in general, in this situation?

I woke that night with sore knees, likely due to my running down the trail with full pack, trying to catch up with Dana and Malgosia. Actually, I suppose my pack was rather empty, as the food was all but gone. Whenever I get a new supply of food, the pack feels soooo heavy, and I complain a bit about the weight, but then after a few minutes I don't notice it any longer, the pack feels so much a part of me. Can highly recommend Osprey Aether packs for their comfort and ease of carrying.

Visited with other folks at the campgrounds, there were a large number of families out, and people from all over the planet. At the Waterfalls camp, we were all nicely settled in our tents when someone came tbru shortly after midnite... "Hello, hello everyone in camp" Wondering who the moron camper was who had to wake us all up by announcing his presence, I loudly answered "Hello". "I'm James, I'm a park warden, and I'm looking for two missing hikers" Oh, it's OK then, I thought, he does have a good reason for waking us. Fortunately the fellow in the tent next to me had seen the two young women earlier in the day, they had taken a wrong turn on the trail. I felt sorry for the warden, he probably had a 20km ride in the night, but at least it was close to a full moon. I wasn't too worried about the young women, I had seen them several times on the trail, and camped at the same sites for two nites. They seemed strong hikers, and were well equipped with tent and clothing, and likely enough food as well.

Next few days there were few hikers on the trail, and campgrounds were little used. I imagined Mary Schaeffer's travels thru here, looking for Maligne lake, following the "map" that looked like a squashed spider, drawn for her by one of her native friends (For those unfamiliar with the history of this area, Mary Schaeffer explored this area over several summers, and she with her guide and camp staff were the first Europeans to visit Maligne Lake). I will have to re-read that account when I get home, in "Hunter of Peace" by Mary Schaeffer. Maligne Pass was lovely indeed, and I was happy to have time to sit for a bit by the lake. A few km after the pass the trail drops into the trees again, and there are very few views until one emerges at Maligne Lake.
Campsites are less used, some of the pads are overgrown, and some looked quite dismal. I hope Mary Schaffer has something else named after her other than the little dismal camp on the end of the Glacier Trail!

I gorged on pastries, sandwiches, and chili at Maligne Lake, also took advantage of a bad phone line to call home. I've lost a fair bit of weight, more than I would have liked, but am feeling very strong and fit. Actually some of the shorter days I've booked over this section have been almost too short, at times am feeling very energetic and have wanted to hike longer.

On to the Skyline trail, very popular, and also more Mary Schaeffer history.
Stopped in at Lorraine and Mona Lakes (for those wondering about Mona Lake, see Sid Marty's book "Men for the Mountains" under the chapter "Mona's Fire
Dress) I also wondered why mountains predominantly seem to be named after men, while lakes have feminine names. Of course there are exceptions, such as Edith Cavell, or Lady MacDonald. The weather deteriorated, so wasn't able to take many pictures here either, but the area was spectactular regardless. I loved it. Temperatures hovered between 5-10 degrees for much of the time, and there were skiffs of snow on the higher portions, rain lower. I found the hike to the high point "The Notch" to be fine, just a bit of a slog, but really not bad at all. The wind was cold and a bit miserable, and I did see some cold and miserable looking people. It seems many beginners do this trail, and aren't totally aware or prepared for the wild weather which can occur at any time of year. I was using my "custom made" ziploc-bag and duct tape gloves again, they kept me toasty. The ridgewalk following The Notch is as lovely as any you will find anywhere. Evenings the weather would usually break a bit, I had some nice visits with folks in the campground, and a good chat with the warden, Jim, who was let out of the office to hike thru.

Signal Camp was my last campsite, and I ran into some folks from Ponoka, one of whom was a nurse and who had volunteered in the same area on the Thai-Burma border that I had, with Burmese refugees. Had a great chat, and the rain finally let up in the evening. Walked up to the old Signal Lookout area, the valley below was draped in patches of fog and cloud here and there, but it looked glorious with the sun shining down. Coyotes were howling, and Jasper looked soooo close. If I had a hang-glider, I could be on the JPL golf course in about 2 1/2 minutes, I thought, and Jasper in another 1/2 minute. I was starting to have some food fantasies, and after 10 days, thinking about a hot shower. (My shoes stunk so badly I had to stuff them into my rain pants at night, otherwise they kept me awake)

On the last few km to Jasper, I saw more frequent bear sign, (Hadn't seen any for several days, only a couple old scat since the White Goat) the buffalo berries were thick. It seemed most likely that the last few km would be where i might run into bears, and indeed i found some very fresh tracks around the golf course. I enjoyed the stroll thru the woods on trail #7, there is some good birdwatching on the trails, and a nuthatch provided lunchtime entertainment (nuthatches are another of my favourite avians)

Down in Jasper, (here I am now!) there were logistics to deal with. I knew there were fires in the Willmore Wilderness, and in the Jackpine area I had to pass thru. The entire area was closed previously, and as I hiked the past few weeks I was mulling over alternative routes in my mind, the most likely being the North Boundary Trail with side trips. There are several areas I have been keen to get back and explore, and I had resigned myself to doing that. At the Ft Point parking lot I met a local who told me the Willmore was open again, so now I had to contemplate going back to the original plan. I was almost sorry in a way, I had been looking forward to getting to those places I have been daydreaming of for a few years... oh well, perhaps next season. Spent much time making phone calls to Hinton, Grand Cache, Robson Park and Edson, finally got the scoop on the area, it sounds as if I will be able to get thru the burned parts without too much trouble. So the plan is to give it a go, if it doesn't work I will backtrack to the North Boundary. The people at the Jasper info centre have been extremely helpful, special thanks to Louise who has gone over the details with me.

Next installment should be at the conclusion of the journey, when I get back to my computer in Calgary. I have just over 300km to go!
Happy Trails.

Things got a little mixed up and complicated the last days in Jasper. Had a quick visit with family in from Ottawa, Brother-in-law David and nephews Ravindra and Kiran came in on the train. Kiran was impressed that I had gone 10 days without a shower, and wanted to live that experience himself! I had been staying at various lodgings, and found wonderful helpful people along the way. Mike and Vicki at the Skyline Guesthouse welcomed me warmly, as did Fay at The Meadows. (A webpage will soon be added to the site with weblinks for resources). Much of my time was dedicated to eating, I lost too much weight, and wanted to be strong for the finale. I ate every few hours, vacillating between fresh food and fattening deep fried stuff, and there was food at my bedside to much when I woke between dreams. I felt like a duck destined for pate fois-gras!

Simon came to meet me as well, bearing my next box of supplies; I had been counting the days until we saw one another again, looking forward to spending a day or two catching up. Our time would be shortened however, as he unexpectedly had to return to work in a day and a half. While he visited with the family, I went thru the supply box….and almost immediately found a crucial portion was missing… the maps and guidebook pages. We mulled over our options, and ended with Simon loaning the car to the family, hitchhiking in to Calgary, picking up the maps, jumping on the motorcycle and driving back up the parkway to Jasper, grabbing a couple hours sleep, and returning back to Calgary for work. I would walk the highway portion of the trip with a daypack, the stretch from Jasper to the Miette trailhead, return to Jasper in the evening, and pack up for the remainder of the journey. (Actually I did that bit in reverse, got a ride to the Miette trailhead, and hiked back to Jasper). The highway walk was unremarkable, I just put my head down and trotted, all the while felt sick about Simon’s epic journey on my behalf, thinking I simply should have delayed the departure date one more day and gone for the maps myself. He got in late that night, the hitching had not gone well, but the job was done, once again he was the white knight on the red motorcycle. One does not take on a journey of this proportion without help from others, and Simon has been my stalwart supporter throughout the planning and implementation, as well as follow-up, he has been with me in spirit every step of the way. Thank you does not seem adequate for the gratitude I feel. Another digression, people often ask what my partner thinks of this venture, and if he is supportive. My take is that an integral aspect of a partnership is supporting and encouraging one another to fulfill dreams, goals, and life’s potential; so the short answer is YES!

I bid farewell to Simon in the wee hours of the morning, having had little sleep myself. Fay, the angel who owns “The Meadows” home accommodation insisted on getting up at the crack of dawn to drive me to the trailhead, and I gratefully accepted. Coffees in hand, it was a quick jaunt to the Decoigne Warden station, she walked the first km or so with me, and I was glad of the opportunity to get to know her a little better. I had my Jasper permits, complete with a contingency permit for the North Boundary Trail if the recently burned area around the Jackpine region of the Willmore was impassable. Had been reassured by the communications officer that the entire Willmore area was open, and there was no threat to the public, so I was not really anticipating problems.

The walk up the Miette was solitary, again probably due to the guidebooks usual dismal descriptions of the trail. It was definitely wet in a few spots, and views were limited for quite some time, but the going was fairly quick as the weather had been dry and the route chain-sawed free of deadfall in June (thanks to Warden Karsten). Wildlife sightings consisted mostly of toads, and the Rink Warden cabin has been taken out. All the signs, and the people at the info centre insist the distance is 30km from trailhead to the Miette Lake “campsite”, however the guidebooks list 24km. Judging from my own walking time, I would suggest 24km is more accurate. There were some views after the Mt Bridgeland Tributary Ford, (don’t forget to look behind you!) The Canadian Rockies Trail Guide mentions a horse trail that branches from the hikers trail, I didn’t find another trail but followed blazes, yellow ribbons, and my nose at times. The lake was shallow, surrounded by cotton grass, and I watched some birds of prey…sorry, am still ornithologically challenged, can’t tell you what they were. This is a spectacular area, I loved the wild remoteness of it, well worth going up the uninspiring part of the Miette trail for, and the next day was even better! But am getting ahead of myself. North pass looked worth exploring as well, for future reference; there was a faint trail headed in that direction. Days are getting shorter, and nights cold as soon as the sun sets. Still lots of mosquitoes though!

On the walk over Centre aka Miette Pass, I had a good chuckle thinking of the conversation with the person at the info centre who had issued my permit. Actually, we both had a good laugh, because after giving me the requisite talk about how some of the area I would be going through was rough, trails not maintained and non-existent at times, I had to sign the back of the permit, agreeing to abide by the rules…. One of which was that I would hike on the trail at all times! I said I would happily do so if they would provide the trail. The trail at Centre pass disappears, but if you have a sharp eye you can spot the warden’s new patrol cabin (described in the Divide Trail guidebook as a pile of building supplies at the time of writing) which is small, green in color, and blends in VERY well with the landscape. You can pick up the trail here again, or at the stream crossing mentioned in the book. There is a faint trail going upstream, that is not the one; best to look back at the opposite bank to see the trail, as well the trail you want is quite faint for a bit on the side after the crossing. More wild wonderful secluded country! Grant Pass was amazing, again I would recommend coming up for a couple of days and exploring the area, probably stopping at Colonel pass, before the old burn. Wildlife tracks were mostly that of a variety of ungulates, but I think I also saw a cougar track, took a photo so someone more familiar with such spoor can help identify. Even saw a couple of human tracks! The tributary fords going through at the bottom of the waterfalls were fast and 6 in above the knee. Not much left of the hanging glaciers.

Things got ugly once I reached the burned area after Colonel Pass. I had mixed reports about the state of the trail: “Horse packers maintain it, it’s easy to get thru” “No one maintains it, it’s hell” “It’s sort of maintained, but not really”. I would say the latter is the most accurate, I can’t imagine anyone has had a horse thru recently, and there were certainly no signs. Someone has hacked a few new bits of trail thru at the beginning (thank you to whomever that was!) and the trail is fairly discernable…until you get to the fireweed. Lovely thick and tall fireweed, beautiful purple flowers, cunningly hiding underlying terrain of leg trapping holes, jumbled heaps of burned deadfall, bush, and generally indistinguishable natural objects. Slow going thru here, found the best way was right of the creek, and up on the flatter terrain above. One of the most consistent clues as to where the trail might lie was looking for sawn-off black deadfall ends; of course no one would go to the work of sawing off deadfall unless the trail was there. Suddenly came across lovely pink ribbons, oh joy! Someone had marked the way, and suddenly progress was much faster….I was heaping blessings upon the ribbon tie-ers head, and that of their ancestors, when the supply of ribbons ran out about ¾ of the way down… searched extensively to pick up ribbons/trail/sawn off log ends, but to no avail. It was back to the crawling process, down along the side of Colonel Creek, until it’s junction with the Moose River. (I did not discern anywhere the official Colonel Creek Trail Junction.) Also, there is thick growth of new small pines, from a few inches to above waist high. OK to get thru now, but in a few years, if no one clears them out, it will be one horrible horrible bushwhack. If you are contemplating this trail, I would suggest doing it within the next couple of years. Sun blazing in my face as I tromped westward, eyes raging red and burning from sunscreen and sweat dripping, for once I was happy to see the sun dipping down behind a ridge for the evening. Reached the Moose just in time to find a rare small flat spot for the tent, out of reach of falling timber, and a couple of crossed dead burned trees holding one another up that was just sturdy enough for a food hang. Food bag is VERY heavy, as this is a long stretch, and finding an adequate food hang is a challenge at times.

Having slept on the banks of the Moose, I was in good position to ford it the next day. The GDT guidebook suggests heading up to Steppe Creek, and crossing there, but the Robson Park Ranger had given specific instructions to cross at the ford above the confluence with Colonel Creek, unless the river was too high, then to head upstream to the higher ford. I looked at both routes, and decided on the Ranger’s advice, the water level being much lower in the morning. My start was delayed due to double-bagging everything relevant in the pack, which took some time, especially the “expelling air” part. The first ford was waist high, but water was slow, so managed nicely, didn’t need the length of tension line I brought for this ford, (but it was useful for food hangs) Found an awesome trail almost immediately, and was pleased with my decision, thinking of the nastiness of the route on the other side. There is a nice campground about 2km, I believe it is the Trio Mtn Campground. (I read later at Robson Pass that the Moose trail had been cleared this year as far as Trio Mtn. Hopefully the rest will be done next year). My joy at having a lovely trail evaporated after a few km, along with the trail. There was deadfall, muskeg, and occasional varying lengths of trail (which inevitably terminated in bog, or in the evil fireweed in the burned areas) in varying states for the next while, sometimes yellow markers on trees, (again, it pays to look over your shoulder, sometimes the blazes are only on one side of the tree) and sometimes sawn off log ends to indicate the way. I appreciated the markers where they existed, difficult to maintain in areas prone to deadfall. One request to trail-builders, please oh please don’t abruptly change direction of a trail in the middle of a bog, where the trail is indiscernible; wait until on firm ground before heading off willy-nilly! Oh well, route finding is a big part of the GDT experience, and one could always just follow the river, but the trails were nicer as they shortcut the river meanderings and tended to higher drier ground. Otherwise, one could become more familiar with the travel habits of the river’s namesake through direct experience; head down and ploughing thru willows, bog, and the river itself. Crossings were progressively shallower, until they were around calf level. Poor to fair trail condition after Steppe Creek, though the campsite at Steppe looked like a nice place to spend the night. Judging from tracks, I would say the most frequent users of the “trail” were 1. Ungulates, especially moose. 2. people 3. bears. Most frequent wildlife sighting: Spiders in webs across the trail.

Moose Pass was overwhelmingly lovely, especially after the bog slog, well deserving of its description in the Canadian Rockies Trail Guide as “attractive” and “inspiring”. I had visited here several years ago under very different conditions, entrenched in clouds, drizzling/raining and had been for a week. Didn’t see anything of note, but a dripping moose. This time I was wowed by the glaciated peaks, extensive meadows, and savoured my journey thru it. If anyone is hiking to Robson, would suggest planning for an extra day and a half to do this side trip, especially if the weather is good.

As I settled into a good bit of nosh and watched the sun go down at Calumet horse/hiker camp, I was content and satisfied. It had been a long couple of days, I had pushed hard (following Simon’s example) and was pleased with my progress and state of being. I have had an extremely rare weather window for the area (how many of you have seen Robson cloudless? For days? OK, I hadn’t seen Robson for days, but the general vicinity…) Physically, my legs were protesting a bit at the heavier food weight in the pack, also lost more weight than I had wanted to, and without the padding my hips were getting a bit sore. Still, overall, I was feeling like a walking machine, though a wee bit tired after the day’s work.

Next day was easier, partially a rest day. Ambled to Adolphus equestrian camp, which was free of equestrians, or anyone else for that matter. Took advantage of the privacy for a skinny-dip and sun-bathe, then dressed and trotted down the trail to find a small food cache a friend had dropped in Robson Park. Ah, an even heavier pack; decisions at suppers are usually based on what is the heaviest food, eat that first, then it is a split decision between what is most fattening, and what is taking up the most space. Stopped at Robson Pass to fill in the only “trail register” thus far, a clipboard for those who had come up the Moose River, to document the crossings. The evening became a little more frantic when I double checked my waypoints, route, and maps…a crucial page of the photocopied guidebook was missing (why is it always a crucial page?). “Now what?” I thought… “do I come out at Robson, and make up the km somewhere else? Do the North Boundary Trail with side-trips to make up 1200km? Forge on the GDT without that section of trail description and just follow my rough itinerary and maps?” Then I remembered the sat phone wrapped carefully in my pack. Called Simon who was fortunately at home, and he read the relevant page while I frantically jotted notes… the trip was suddenly no longer in jeopardy! Thanks Richard Berry, your phone saved the day!

Enroute to Chown Camp, met up with Paul, and Thor “the wonder dog” (my term for him). Thor was a yorkie who loved hiking, and climbing for that matter, he had been up every peak Paul had, though sometimes he caught a ride in a carrier. Paul was in for a few days solo climbing, in the Chown/Bess vicinity; I was interested as Bess is such an aesthetically appealing peak, and after seeing it for the first time several years ago have toyed with the idea of ascending..some day. Paul had seen my note regarding the waist high fords of the Moose, and shared that he thought “that woman probably has a mountain bike over one shoulder, and a chainsaw over the other”. The chainsaw part was not so far off! I had been increasingly grateful for the work of the trail crews, wardens and rangers, clearing the trails, I decided another future project will be to learn to run a chainsaw and join a volunteer trail group. I’ll draw the line at chainsaw carvings though!

I entertained others at Chown by eating with my toothbrush handle, having forgotten my spoon somehow in Jasper. Thank goodness I hadn’t got to my new toothbrush with the saw as I customarily do! There was just enough of a depression in the handle to hold a decent mouthful of food, and if the consistency was runny a bit of mashed potato powder solved that problem nicely. One side of my unused contact lens case (I have “Night and Day” lenses you leave in for a month, highly recommend them if you can wear them, don’t have to be poking in your eyes with dirty fingers, plus you can see when you wake in the night; I bring a lens case with solution just in case I need to take them out if they inadvertently get gritty) acted as a scoop for things like powdered milk and coffee.

Paul, Thor and I walked a bit together up towards his turnoff at Chown Creek, and I carried on towards Bess Pass. I would be completely alone, starting the morning of Aug 21^st, until the afternoon of Aug 27^th when Simon met me at Kakwa Lake.

Chown Creek ford was OK in the morning, and the Bess Pass trail was there exactly as described in the guidebook. Last time I was up this way was again that wet trip on the North Boundary a few years ago, and I remembered a different trail. This one was much nicer. There didn’t seem to be a lot of water in the vicinity of the camping area near Bess Pass, but then I didn’t look far as I wasn’t staying; perhaps check on this if you plan to camp there. The trail fizzles out a bit, and I found one which dropped down into the valley; it was fairly good, but seemed wrong, so I backtracked, and found another faint trail heading in the right direction to Bess shoulder. There is a bit of avalanche debris and the usual crap to whack thru, have to keep your eyes open, but things improve. Jackpine pass was straightforward, there are numerous horse trails, and if you are doing the high route, I found an excellent, well defined trail leading up towards the circumnavigation of the first peak as mentioned in the guidebook. It was alpine heaven up there, vying for one of the most beautiful places I had been on this trip, or perhaps of all the trips of my lifetime… magical, small tarns, ptarmigan, marmots, views of peaks and glaciers, wildness.

For some reason, I was decidedly not content, rather uncharacteristically agitated. I had a difficult decision to make. I was moving very VERY slowly. My physical reserves were draining. The high route would take more time. But, I had lots of food, and a good weather window (Paul had told me the forecast was for at least a week of clear skies, corroborating the last info I had in Jasper, 10 days of uncharacteristic sun-kissed heaven), and perhaps I would never have another opportunity like this. The other option was to go back to Jackpine Pass, descend to the river, to do the bog slog again. The GDT guidebook describes the slog as a cross-country hike which challenges endurance… I knew I had endurance, just couldn’t go fast. I stayed awake much of the night, going over options, maps, routes…would make a decision, decide it was final, then be up with the headlamp poring over the information again, reviewing in my head. Changed my mind about 20 times, nothing seemed right. Did I need to push myself harder? Or would I jeopardize myself by doing so? Was this all some psychological barrier I had to work thru? Thru the nite contemplated the depths of the universe, shooting stars, and the Milky Way, and the route. Had breakfast as dawn was breaking, and packed up. Marmots started calling a good hour after sun-up; “Slug-a-beds” I thought, miserably. Usually when I make a decision, there is a definite positive feeling, or at least neutrality. In this case I was perplexed, as both choices felt very wrong, and even as I set off, I still didn’t know which direction I would ultimately take.

It took twice as long to get back to Jackpine Pass than anticipated, retracing my footsteps of the previous day. Confirmed my assessment I was moving waaay too slow. Heavy hearted, I descended the pass, slipping at one point on concrete-hard consolidated mud studded with ball-bearing pebbles, and snapped one of my carbon-fiber hiking poles. The burden of blackness increased at that event, the poles were a special gift from Simon. As I walked on, there was the high route beside me, I knew it by heart from my porings over the map; there is the peak to swing south of, there is Jackpine Mountain at which point I would be on the southerly route…. Finally gave myself a mental kick, the decision was made, I needed to be in the present moment, and getting the most of where I was now. In “plough on thru as fast as I can” mode put in a long hard day. Once I decided to change my attitude, the walk was enjoyable, saw a couple of groups of rare Harlequin ducks, and marked the waypoints to let the biologists in Jasper know. The GDT guidebook says to stay on the west bank of the river to avoid a nasty ford later on, but there were times when it was nearly impossible to stay on that route due to heavy heavy bush… so I crossed the river gazillions of times, taking the “path” of least resistance, which sometimes was the river itself. The Jackpine meanders incessantly, filling the wide valleys with lazy loops, at times hairpin turning back and forth on itself. The boggy spots were not as boggy as often described, though one area could be a showpiece for ducks unlimited, with reeds and water deep enough to canoe in. Sometimes I was able to cut the corners, of the loopy river, most often not. There is a section where one can make good progress, the valley narrows and the river is forced to quit playing around and run seriously straight again; the area mentioned in the guidebook where you have to either traverse and bushwhack the high bank to the gorge or walk thru the gorge with the river was interesting. I would highly recommend the bushwhack, even at low water going down the gorge seems insane, and if you go a little farther in to the left, the bushwhack is really not that bad, lots of room to manoeuvre. There is another gorge you run into, a tributary stream, at which point I tried and was successful at descending and staying for awhile on the west bank of the Jackpine, until the valley widened and it was back to sloshing across whenever it seemed appropriate. At high water, you would probably have to bushwhack farther around the tributary descent, rather than going down it.

It rained off and on the night of the 23^rd, and on the 24^th the sky was overcast grey with large purplish-black-blue bruisers of clouds, extremely ominous looking, and I expected the worst. Finally I would get to try out the new waterproof mitts I bought in Jasper following the White Goat experience! Most of the nastiness circumvented me throughout the day though, and there was only a bit of drizzle here and there….provided I kept my raingear on though. Of course the minute I took it off, it would pour, and when I put it back on the precipitation would immediately stop.

Found the old trapper’s cabin as described in the book, and ran into the first of the small recently burned areas just up the ridge behind. For the most part the trail was very evident, but in a few places one had to sleuth again, once more the most useful clue being sawn off log ends from clearing before the fire. The going was fairly fast, as there was little to no deadfall or overgrowth to contend with, and the overgrowth of underbrush was burned out. Meadowland creek (A misnomer if ever there was one) was insignificant. It was exciting to get up to Little Shale Hill and the alpine again; how quickly the season had gone by! In response to the shorter days, leaves were yellow, fireweed was on fire again…red leaves this time, and grasses were brown, rustling when disturbed by human legs. Blooms had become white fluffy seed heads on numerous plants, while other brown seed pods rattled musically. Wild wonderful Willmore! Spent a night at Pauline Creek camp, and ruminated on why there is inevitably a creek to ford at end of day, just before each campsite.

Big Shale Hill was great fun, I spent some time wandering the ridges. Found a hat, if you lost one and can describe it, I’ll send it to you! There was the usual sleuthing on the way to Morkill Pass, thru the bogs to find the trail. The guidebook suggests looking for horse hoof-prints to show the way, but I found none; rather moose-prints were ubiquitous, it looked like a barnyard. Called Simon that night on the sat phone, to let him know I would be at Kakwa Lake on the 27^th. Two and a half days!!!! I have almost been counting the hours, definitely counting down the kilometres to the end. Am still moving slow, but the pack is lighter with food consumption, and hips not so sore. I now have calluses from the hip belt, and my feet look like a Nepalese porter’s. Far from being mindful, my brain has insisted on having its way, and its way is bad karaoke. Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” played endlessly, and when I was successful at banishing that, I got “I’m so young and you’re so old….” Or “Leader of the Pack”. Frightful. I’m afraid I wasn’t been appreciating the landscape or the experience as fully as before, and now as I try to document from my short cryptic trail notes, this is evident. Apologies to the reader.

Wildlife sightings have been few, but I had a good look at some of the larger voles, and an owl which I thought was a lesser horned, but apparently it isn’t in this area, so must have been something else. It was definitely smaller in size than a greater horned, grey in color, and I could have sworn it had “horns”... Any ideas anyone? There are still some flowers out, though they are looking dingy. Saw the first and last bear tracks since leaving the North Boundary Trail, a couple of grizzly marks at Featherstonhough Pass, and observed one mule deer stag. Waypoint f32 for Featherstonhough was way wrong, 19km or so, suggest you mark your own waypoint using the map. There were fires in the Featherstonhough area as well, according to the Willmore Wilderness website, but I did not cross thru any burned areas on this section.

I had intended to bypass the Casket Pass campground, and camp near the Sheep River. Unfortunately I missed the turnoff for Casket shoulder, and carried on too far. If you run into a weather station, you have gone too far. Backtracked, and couldn’t find the trail. Decided it was in my best interests to go back to Casket Camp and spend the night, it was getting later. Casket was a bit of a hole, had to look for some time for a decent food hang. I found a turn off, barely visible, 2km from camp (I kept the GPS on) rather than the 3 mentioned in the guidebook. Very easy to miss this turnoff, but the trail rapidly improves, and obviously goes the right direction. Keep checking map, compass and GPS. Trails have improved considerably closer to Kakwa, perhaps they get more use.

Very easy going apart from a bit of deadfall, to the open area before the Sheep. The trees with the blazes seem to be gone, but they were probably in the piles deliberately burned, I assume to control the pine beetle. I opted just to whack straight thru the willows, making for some pink ribbons on the other side of the Sheep…which was all but completely dry, only a few puddles here and there in the old streambed. The trail was easy to pick up on the other side near the pink ribbons (not, it seems to mark the way for hikers, but for future “pest control” activities) and there is a nice, brand new equestrian camp about 2-2.5km up the trail. The way is mostly easy going, often on dryas flats and decent trail. I saw another old trappers cabin, this one with a tree growing out of it’s centre.

Moiled my way slowly up to Surprise pass “It’ll be a surprise if I ever get there” I mused…Once there, I had a look at the high route, and there was no hesitation. Once the ascent was done, it was pleasurable rambling under the Wallbridge glacier. Saw my first caribou tracks on this trip, and the fossils were fun to sift thru, mostly worm casings. Someone had made a small cairn of some interesting formations, thin layers of rock in a circular formation, almost like a fossilized wasps nest. I took photos, perhaps some geologist out there can tell me the story behind them. Also some lovely quartz crystals, in little clumps a few cm long at most, the obelisk sort of shape. Had fun tromping over Wapiti mountain as well, what a viewpoint! First views of Kakwa Lake, Cecilia Lake, and Broadview Lake, possible camping spot if I didn’t do the other portion of the high route. And, I would be only 8.1km from Kakwa Lake, and Simon the next day! Coming down from Wapiti was interesting, I headed towards the NW, and found huge impassable cliffs guarding the route down. Too far west, headed more northerly towards Providence Pass, and found a large cairn marking the ridge route that would lead me to the valley. The short description in the book of a gradual descent down a northwest ridge had me anticipating a walk down, but found it to actually be a bit of a scramble thru various short cliff bands, and loose rock. I was comfortable, but those not accustomed to scrambling might find it daunting.

I had a look at the other portion of the high route, alpine wandering, but for some reason it didn’t excite or lure me. It was getting later, and I was still moving slowly, so opted for Broadview Lake and its camping spot. Enroute, the early twilight on the golden grasses was magical, and I stopped suddenly, realizing that this was my last night alone on the trail, and while I had been yearning to see Simon again, and to reach Kakwa, of course there was the aspect of myself which wanted to carry on….

Had a huge meal, a final feast, mostly mashed potatoes with a variety of stuff squished in, and a last big gob of butter. Soup to start, and fruit bars for dessert. Sleepytime tea to finish. Watched the stars, and fell asleep content.

Next morning, after sleeping in, decided to clean myself up a little before my rendezvous with Simon; washed hair, put on my cleanest dirty clothes (clean underwear!) and scrubbed myself with the last “wet ones” as best I could. I anticipated he would arrive between 2 and 4pm, so I had a bit of time!

Routefinding through the bog took longer than I anticipated, again. Fortunately this time there were a few ribbons here and there, which actually were for hikers and not pest control. I was excited when I finally found the first equestrian camp on the shores of Wapumun lake, but needn’t have, because you actually go thru three equestrian camps altogether before you reach the hiker camp. And, much of this is thru deep slough/backwater stuff. As usual, there is the obligatory ford before the campsite. And there was Simon’s pack, and just out of sight was Simon having a snooze! My wonderful partner had driven his motorcycle to Jasper, rented a 4x4, driven up the Walker Creek Road, slept in the vehicle the night before, humped a pack full of luxurious food and champagne 30km in, and arrived an hour before I did! Wow. We had quite the reunion celebration! There were no others at the campsite, or cabins except for a nervous cow moose, the first I’d seen since Kananaskis despite the plethora of prints thru the bogs. The only item Simon overlooked bringing was a spoon…so we were both utensil-less, but he quickly whittled a couple from some flat pieces of wood, resourceful person that he is. As we settled in to sleep, our two person tent which formerly felt rather cramped at times seemed to me rather palatial after my little Hubba. Simon had loaned out his sleeping bag, so bundled in down jacket and layers of fleece, and snoozed off almost immediately.

I stayed awake much of the night, ruminating over the journey, star-gazing, and hoping for northern lights (they didn’t appear; In my experience, usually best seen mid-winter while walking home from the bar in Canmore after 2am, so I haven’t seen the aurora properly for several years now). Sunrise was spectacular, and we were eager to be on the trail, with 30km to cover; the fact that the truck hadn’t been protected with chicken-wire against porcupines (rolls of chicken wire don’t pack well on a motorcycle) added spring to our step, especially when I recounted the tale someone told me of paying $1000 for a tow from the Blaeberry, and repairs, after being “porcupined”. (For those unfamiliar, salt hungry porcupines chew anything, including brake lines, wires, etc.) Despite the fast pace, we couldn’t help but admire Mt Sir Alexander, Pommel Mtn, and numerous others I didn’t know the names of, I took several photos and lusted after their summits. Also took photos of the “official” end of trail according to the guidebook, the Kakwa Lake Trailhead sign.

Gravity was our friend, the route was downhill, and with a lunch break we arrived about 5 ½ hours after we left Kakwa. We were overjoyed at being spared porcupine damage, and set off down the road; HEAPS of bear scat everywhere, no other vehicles except a camper halfway out…it would have been a long lonely walk, I was grateful to have a ride out.

I didn’t realize the extent to which I was drained physically, all I wanted to do was eat and sleep in turns, until a few days ago. I no longer wake up to eat in the night, but last night woke thinking I was still in my tent…Also took some time to realize the hike was really over, I wasn’t going to have a few days off and then resume walking again… though I feel as if I could now! Still have calloused skin over my hipbones, and my pants still hang off me, though I’ve gained back about 5 lbs. I can’t describe at present the psychological aspects of this experience, but very different from coming home from an extended overseas trip. So many aspects of this life we live and consider “normal” seem absurd right now. Perhaps I will share that in future, perhaps not. (Have I been wrong all along? Perhaps it IS all about fashion and hairstyles!….LOL) Now am concentrating on catching up with friends, e-mails, thinking about work, the open house celebration next weekend, and of course Child Haven. Also feeling elated at having accomplished my goal, and continuing the journey wherever it takes me. And especially feeling gratitude towards all who helped, encouraged, supported, gave advice, particularly grateful for the kindness of strangers. Heaps of praise for the guidebook writers, and trail maintenance people, I have an entirely new respect for what you do. If you ever need assistance, (a “food mule” or whatever), let me know, I’d like to make my contribution. Life is good! The journey continues. Keep checking the site for updates!