Adventures from Arizona to Alberta
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ALBERTA
Dave and I love the Dorrien Smith/Spray Lake Trail. We love to take our friends up the narrow, unpaved road, through all its twists, turns, and drop-offs—just to scare the crap out of them. You can always tell if someone has been there by their white, dust-encrusted vehicle. A right of passage, at least until the next rain.
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 and rainy June, summer decided to finally appear for more than a day or two. The sun finally came out, and so did the people.
Headwall Lake is usually a forgotten hike. It shares the parking lot with the premier Chester Lake trail and doesn’t get star billing. In fact, it gets no billing. Push those thoughts aside—this 10-mile hike weaves through multiple terrain, on its way up to some pretty spectacular views.
This year, the longest day was truly the longest day. Summer solstice sans summer. But the week of rain and high country snow eventually gave way to sunshine. And, the remaining stretch of Highway 40 in Kananaskis had opened, providing us with the opportunity to hike Ptarmigan Cirque.
It was spur of the moment. Dave and I hastily made a couple sandwiches, threw the bear spray in the Jeep and headed out. Little did we know what we would actually find.
On our way to the cirque!
After a beautiful start up the mountain, we climbed into some thick clouds still remaining from the previous day’s rain. Fog as thick as peanut butter (hahahaha)—made it necessary to turn on fog lights and slow to a snail’s pace. What began as patchy snow became a blanket, reminiscent of early fall in the Rockies.
And then the sun broke through.
Just outside the parking lot at Ptarmigan Cirque Trail.
By the time we reached the cirque, it became apparent that there was to be no hiking today. The snow was close to a foot deep, and our boots were not waterproof.
Fresh snowfall.
You know, all in all, It didn't seem to matter. I had never seen the upper portion of the Kananaskis trail and it was quite magical.
Ptarmigan Cirque can wait. :)
Opportunities are like sunrises. If you wait too long, you miss them.—William Arthur Ward
Our reason for hiking the Grassi Lakes circuit was two-fold. A family of owls was known to be nesting in the cliffs above the lake and it was a beautiful day. With that in mind, Dave loaded up his camera gear and we set off on a photo safari.
Lower Grassi Lake
If there is one hike that appeals to all ages and levels of endurance, Grassi Lakes is it. The trail is about 2.7 miles roundtrip and offers an easy path (service road) and a not so easy path (along the edge) to the top. The lakes, waterfalls and a nearby mountain was named after Italian immigrant Lawrence Grassi—a miner, hiker, climber and master trail-builder. The trail was built by Grassi back in 1918, during a miner’s strike. He went on to build the Oesa trail at Lake O’Hara along with many others. A solitary man, he lived in an ivy-covered cabin by the Grassi trailhead, until his move to Bow Valley Regional Housing, where he lived to the ripe old age of 90.
Lower Grassi Lake.
As with most hikes around here, It pays to be early. We had both lakes mostly to ourselves for at least 45 minutes.
Lower Grassi Lake.
This hike never gets old. Reflections and jewel-like hues were magnified by the early morning light. The clarity was amazing. So much color in such an attainable venue—I can see why Grassi loved it so.
Upper Grassi Lake, looking for owls.
Nothing here but rocks…..
We headed to the upper lake was where the owls nest was located—a craggy cave nestled a steep rock face. Dave swiftly set up the camera and try-pod. He zoomed in and….NOTHING. Wait, wasn’t that the owl on the side of the cave? Nope, it was a ROCK. Dang. Our neighbors had seen them the week before, but for us, it was not to be.
We shrugged it off and continued down the mountain on the cliff side. This was Grassi’s original trail, consisting of steep stairways, flowing creeks, large smooth boulders and spectacular views..
We crept out on a narrow pathway off the main trail to get a closer look of the falls. So worth it.
We may have missed the owls that day, but that only gives us another reason to return.
Homeward bound.
“We love the things we love for what they are.” ― Robert Frost
Sometimes a hike is just a long walk in the woods. Many hikers tend to pass on hikes that don’t reward them with wide open spaces, memorable vistas and physical challenges. I get that. But sometimes, the solitude and quiet of a less travelled path can be quite lovely.
Pocaterra Trail was one of those paths. The trail is a gentle upward climb through the woods, with glimpses of creeks, small lakes and mountains.
Pocaterra Creek.
We were completely alone that morning. The forest floor was damp and soft from the recent snow. Our first detour was to Pocaterra Creek, which we accessed following a game trail. Still in search of that elusive moose…
A sea of fern appeared, captured in early morning sunlight. Another brief scramble took us down to Rockwall lake, it’s muddy bottom covered with elk tracks.
Rockwall Lake.
As we climbed up the ridge, the mountains came into view; below us, lush green meadows.
The trail was wide enough to walk side by side, and easy enough to hold a conversation. Dave and I solved many of the world’s problems that day (hahahaha).
At one point we went off trail in search of Sparrow’s Lake. After foraging uphill through a mass of deadwood and moss we came upon a small meadow. A quick look at the map indicated that we would have to cross multiple ridges to get to the lake. That was not gonna happen. There was no real access from our route.
Strange and creepy mushrooms.
Oh—lest I forget, we saw some pretty weird mushrooms along the way, popping up under pine needles. I do not believe they are edible.
We were about three and half miles in when we realized our sandwiches were still on the counter at home. It was definitely time to head back.
Our favorite trails will open soon. The quiet and solitude will soon be replaced by an onslaught of tourists. But for a brief moment in early June, a quiet walk in the woods gave us both time to just be.
I wouldn’t call Jura Creek a hike—I’d call it an adventure. Located by the Baymag plant on Highway 1A, the trailhead is far from ostentatious. In fact, it’s practically non-existent—the official site is currently under construction. That aside, Dave and I were pleasantly surprised. The real fun began about a quarter mile in at the mouth of the slot canyon.
The mouth of the canyon
This hike was more like an obstacle course through flowing water—consisting of scaling boulders, crossing deep pools on single logs and stepping cautiously from rock to rock. About a mile in, it became apparent to Dave and I that dry feet were not gonna happen.
A smooth piece of Jasper in the creek.
Jura creek was robust, thanks to recent snowmelt. We made our way through a maze of deep, narrow passageways, filled with pools and mini waterfalls. The high walls were cold and damp with sunlight just starting to find it’s way through the opening. Exquisite.
The canyon opened up into a large, rocky creek bed. As we progressed, the creek dried up and the hiking became a little tedious. It did however, give us plenty of time for our feet to dry.
Canyon’s end, nearing the creek bed.
Eventually, we came upon a huge headwall. Dave and I looked at each other, both wondering if we should try to scale it. Hmmm. On the right, super smooth stone that was pretty vertical. To the left, a wall of rock with a v-like formation. A stream of water was flowing down the center. Others have done this—right? Don’t we want to see what’s up there? What the heck. We chose the V.
To the top of the headwall.
In hindsight, it looked a lot harder to climb than it actually was. At the top were a series of pools captured in smooth white stone. We gazed down into deep crevices where the creek graced us with it’s reappearance.
Peering into the cracks.
The trail turned into a creek bed once more. For us, it was the perfect turn-around point. Our return trip was not nearly as graceful. I guess it never really is. We sloshed back through the running creek with reckless abandon, the canyon then filled with sunlight and warmth.
Jura Creek is a well-hidden gem. Selfishly, we both kinda hope it stays that way.
