This was our second attempt to hike Ptarmigan Cirque and I am thankful to report that this time, there was very little snow to contend with.

After a cold, wet, rainy and snowy June, summer decided to appear for more than a day or two. The sun finally came out, and so did the people.

Dave and I arrived around 10am and found parking still available at the Highwood Pass Lot. We were joined by multiple groups prepping for a beautiful day in Kananaskis. The hike was a short and sweet one— a 2.7 mile interpretive loop, with about 1,100 feet of elevation.

Just past the trailhead Dave noticed that we were surrounded by ground squirrels. Entire families of ground squirrels. They were everywhere and seemed to be pretty, pretty comfortable in their surroundings.

After crossing the highway, we began a climb that took us (relatively) quickly to the cirque above. Our trek was quite steep and quite beautiful. The soft, forest trail was laden with giant roots embedded from surrounding spruce. We passed meadows of wildflowers and a small waterfall could be seen just off the path.

Once above the treeline, we entered a lush glacial valley.

It was the perfect playground for children of all ages, with rocks to climb, water to splash in and ample areas to picnic.

Dave and l lunched near a large waterfall, then ventured up a narrow scree path to the base of the cirque. It was a massive rocky amphitheater formed from years of glacial erosion. Mt Rae appeared in the background. Only a small amount of snow remained. There was no lake in the massive bowl—the water currently exits as a spring into the valley below.

The loop took us back to the other side of the valley. By this time, the trail was filled with lots of families, babies and dogs. An overflowing lot that spilled onto both sides of the highway, greeted us upon our return. We were so happy to have started earlier.

On our way home we came across a herd of Rocky Mountain sheep and their babies grazing just off the highway. This is quite common during the summer months. They are also quite used to all of the attention they receive.

Except for one. Just as we were about pull out, we came across a goat licking the salty pavement near the center lane. I rolled down my window to take a quick photo.

He casually lifted his head and stared at me. I mean, he looked through me. I lowered my camera. The stare continued—with his red-orange, glowy eyes. I’d have to say, the connection I felt was truly uncomfortable. It was as if he could see inside my head.

With days like these, Dave and I can't wait to see what else is out there.