Jasper National Park, AB (Part 2 of 2)
“One of the steepest hikes in Jasper”
Because of the forecast for rain later today, I was unsure of what to plan for the day: a hike seemed out of the question, but so did doing nothing.
We ended up driving up a mountain and found ourselves on the side of a steep road for what my trails app called the “Edge of the World” trail (out-and-back, 0.7 mile). The trailhead was deserted, and something in the deserted air — perhaps the lack of hikers who hike with bells attached to their packs — made me feel the need to carry our bear spray on this short hike.
We saw a clear trail, stamped by lots of hiking boots, but as soon as we entered the forest cover, the trail, while visible, was overgrown with lots of bushes, trees, and fallen branches. We hadn’t gone a few yards when the “trail” seemed to disappear into the woods altogether. Where to? I realized we had not started in the official trailhead and so we went back to the beginning, and there it was — a proper, clear trail without any overgrowth. It was only 0.35 mile to our destination.
We were at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the whole town of Jasper, the meandering Athabasca River, Pyramid Mountain and its sister ranges, with a few lakes thrown in. It was not the kind of view I would recommend to someone scared of heights, especially since my app indicated that we were supposed to hike just a few more yards, when in actuality, the elements had already eroded that portion of the trail and it was only the cliff from then on. This portion of the path was steep too, so we held on to the trees for support.
That was when I noticed the trunks of the trees here: the pine beetle had already struck.
***
We were on the hunt for beautiful lakes and beautiful lake pictures again. (One strategy was to look at the satellite map in the area, which sometimes showed which lakes might have more unusual, glacier colors.)
N. was happy to drive by Mildred Lake and Beauvert Lake, for calm conditions in both led to some pretty mirror pictures. (I once asked N., “What’s your favorite, mirror lakes or snow-capped mountains?” It was just a second before he responded, “Well, the best would be mirror lake effects with a snow-capped mountain in the background!” And a side of fries. Beauvert (“Beautiful Green” in French) Lake was actually within the grounds of the Jasper Park Lodge, but since the public road continued into the resort, I felt justified in driving to the lake (although I hoped that I was not again breaking any Canadian laws). The funny/cute sighting of the day was an elderly couple taking a leisurely stroll around Beauvert Lake — mind, within the confines of an expensive resort — while carrying bear spray.
***
Forces in the universe that counseled against a hike: (1) weather was super cloudy with a good chance of rain in the forecast; (2) long drive to the trailhead — 33 miles, 1 hour, 1 way; (3) chosen hike described as “one of the steepest hikes in Jasper!” (this last bit of info I somehow forgot to mention to N.)
Forces in the universe that counseled for a hike: (1) the colors in glacial lakes can best be seen from higher up; (2) I really wanted to do a “real” hike in the area; (3) we would be leaving Jasper soon.
The first bit of the trail was actually part of the Mary Schaeffer Loop around Lake Maligne, an easy loop with no elevation change and lots of benches along the way. On this section, N. even saw a couple of snow-capped mountains worthy of photographing and so he seemed to be warming up to the hike.
His feelings about it got real cold real soon: after five minutes, our hike to the Lake Maligne Lookout (out-and-back, 4.3 miles) split from the Mary Schaeffer and started to go uphill — and not metaphorically: the trail literally gained more than 2,000 feet in elevation in just 2 miles. On my hiking app, the trail preview showed up in red. The trail itself was well marked, easy to find. The trick was making one’s way among the bulky tree roots, the steep incline, and the constant switchbacks. We learned very quickly to just keep our heads down and put one foot in front of the other.
Suddenly, the tree line thinned out and we found ourselves on open alpine fields, with the ground dotted with snow, and views of mountains. The clouds pretended to move here and there, giving tantalizing glimpses of sunlight, and N. got excited about some of the photos he snapped of the snow-covered peaks. Maligne Lake itself was covered in a thick gray haze that hid quite effectively its colors. Soon enough, the wind began to blow and rain started to fall.
We took those as our clues to go down the mountain. Although easier than the ascent, such a descent presented its own challenges on our joints, which protested each step as they absorbed the downward force. There was never fighting against the laws of physics.
***
The reason for doing another hike after the “steepest hike in Jasper” is lost to history, but for some reason, we did indeed drive back near our campground and hike the Valley of the Five Lakes (loop, 3 miles).
The lakes were, well, fine but perhaps both N. and I were tired and cranky (what can possibly compete with Moraine?). Besides the lakes themselves, we ran across a group of young women who seemed part of a bachelorette party, drinking surreptitiously from wine glasses, and a father-and-son duo with the son taking a dip on each of the five lakes, and lots of families with young children.
***
The only other thing to note about the day: when we went back to our campground and parked by the shower house, a couple of kids were sitting on the bench outside. One looked to be in middle school, with the other obviously his much younger brother. Overheard on my way to the shower was the younger brother’s question: “So what happens when you go inside a girl?” I did not wait to hear a response.
***
Because the forecast called for rain today in Jasper, N. and I decided to ditch the joint and begin our drive south today instead of tomorrow morning. Before leaving, I did laundry at a funny little laundromat in the Jasper village that doubled as a stationery store. As anyone in our family will testify, I would be a good candidate for the owner of a stationery store. But we digress.
The first leg of our journey south would happen in the Icefields Parkway, part of the Jasper and Banff National Parks and a drive absolutely not to be missed.
So the attractions in which we stopped, however briefly and despite the clouds and threatening rain, in order from north to south:
Athabasca Pass and Falls
At the Goats and Glaciers viewpoint, a memorial plaque in honor of Audrey Bernice Phillips [1953-2017] read, “You toiled in the valleys. Now soar from the mountaintops.”
Sunwapta Falls — despite the gloomy day, lots of cars in the parking lot; also, on the way to the falls, a couple of traffic line painting trucks irritated N. who was trying to take pictures of the views; I’m sure the very un-scenic trucks make an appearance in some of them.
We drove back from Sunwapta Falls to Honeymoon Lake; although the lake with the mountain ranges behind it was beautiful, we were now spoiled, so were not impressed because this one did not seem to have any of those brilliant glacier-fed bright colors; it was just a regular-lake color.
Stufield Glacier
Tangle Falls — the traffic gods decided that cars and vans and RV’s would park on one side of the road and then the pedestrians would have to cross the parkway to see the falls. That was a bit too much trust that vehicles driving 90 km/hr (approximately 60 mph) would stop for pedestrians.
Waterfowl Lakes — we had stopped at this one on the way to Jasper about a week ago, but it looked different from this angle, so we stopped anyway. Besides, it was a beautiful lake.
Peyto Lake — the winner of this scenic drive’s beauty contest: a conveniently paved — but uphill — trail led to a vista point above the lake, high enough to highlight the deep emerald color; from the snow run-off from the mountains, we could see the rock flour feeding the lake.
We arrived at the Lake Louise Visitor Center at 6:35 pm, just five minutes after its closing, so I could not go into the Lost-and-Found and ask about my sandals. Thrice Drat!
After a mediocre dinner at what turned out to be the restaurant attached to a youth hostel, where I had my first and probably the last poutine of my life, we were on the road again.
On BC 93/95 South, we were quickly -- and sadly — out of Banff National Park, driving quickly through Kootenay National Park. As we were passing Radium Hot Springs, we caught sight of a coyote crossing the highway with a dead animal in its maw. Then Invermere, Windermere, Fairmont Hot Springs — lots of hot springs in the area — and then the massive Columbia Lake and Canal Flats (which billed itself as the “Source of the Columbia River”). We stopped, exhausted, at a town called Skookumchuck — I chose it because it was called Skookumchuck. We had been on the road for more than ten hours.
***
The Shoe Fairy struck again: we woke to the next morning, and one of the first things that N. said to me was,
“Where’s one of your flip-flops?”
“What do you mean? Right where I left it last night, next to your shoes…”
“No, I see only one…”
One of my flip-flops had disappeared. What could possibly have taken it? A battalion of ants? A pair of curious squirrels? A murder of crows?
In light of the sandals I lost in Banff, I was starting to get a feeling of being a cursed Cinderella of sorts. As I was looking around the van, a couple of loose, large dogs crossed the campground. My best guess was that they saw not flip-flops but something like a rubber toy, picked it up, and took it to chew somewhere in private.
I left Skookumchuck — and Canada — with only one flip-flop.