This iconic mountain has an illustrious past that hails back to the mining days of the late 1800s. As the story goes, in 1896, a cook for the Canadian Pacific Railway was bet fifty bucks that he could not summit the Beehive in less than ten hours. He was to plant a flag at the top as proof of his effort. Evidently, no one knew how capable Ha Ling was. He left at 7am that Saturday and was back in time for lunch. 

No one believed that such a feat could happen. Undaunted, Ha Ling led a group of doubters back up the mountain and placed a much larger flag next to the original. It was said that this flag could be easily seen from Canmore. The townsfolk referred to the Beehive as Chinaman’s Peak in his honor. 

Now for the brief politically incorrect part. In 1980, the town officially named it Chinaman’s Peak. In 1996, they changed it to Ha Ling Peak. Good move.

The trail had closed for renovation for over a year—the path was never designated and evolved over time. It was never meant to accommodate the mass of hikers that it does today. The changes included a new lookout, and rails and cable ladders in places where the bedrock could not be reshaped.

So, when the trail reopened in August, we decided to give it a try. We left super early to get a jumpstart on the crowds that would undoubtedly form. 

I am not gonna lie. It was really steep. Even after the trail improvements it is still about a five-mile round trip with a 2,637ft elevation gain. I lost count of the stairs as we climbed. We took our time.

Oh and yeah, the final ascent to the col had plenty of scree and a lot of wind. It was freezing at the top. We were exhausted, exposed, and exhilarated. Canmore appeared on one side, with Spray Valley Provincial Park on the other. Indescribable. 

And guess what? We were back in time for lunch.

I will never see that mountain the same way again. Whenever Dave and I look up, we can point to the sweet curve between Ha Ling and Miner Peaks and say, we did that—we were there.