Our dear friend Margaret has a unique skill. Whenever she comes up, we see lots of wildlife—without fail. This time was no different, just, um...better.
Viewing entries tagged
Canadian Rockies
“When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad…”
—Rogers and Hammerstein, My Favorite Things
Mountainside wildlife.
This love letter should come as no surprise. Our family’s roots run deep in Alberta. My father was born Lethbridge, and I have memories of visits to not one, but two sets of grandparents.
Close to twenty years ago, we ventured into this little town—this Valhalla. Canmore is where I fell in love with Dave. It’s where our lives came together, and our hearts lie still.
Canmore overlook at sunrise.
It seems every April, like clockwork, the urge to go north sets in. Dave dreams about crystal clear lakes and rugged mountains. We binge-watch all the movies we can find that use the Canadian Rockies as a location. We crave poutine. In essence, we shift gears.
Spray Lake.
What’s outside your window?
Canmore Golf and Curling Club.
Bow River evening walk.
Not unlike the Canadian geese who winter in Arizona, in May, we take flight—only to return to the desert by November.
September in the Canadian Rockies.
But this year is different for everyone. Isolation is not by choice, it’s mandatory. CoVid-19 continues to take its toll on the lives and livelihoods of so many worldwide.
So we all wait, hope for better days ahead, and remember our favorite things.
Despite fires, floods, and global pandemics, Canmore, you will always be our home away from home. XOXO.
Seasons change so quickly here. Everything seems accelerated. This past summer has been chilly and inclement, with hints of an upcoming winter competing with fall.
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, they didn’t know how capable Ha Ling was. He left at 7am that Saturday and was back in time for lunch.
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.
Why do Canadians call the U.S. their southern neighbors? In Mexico, are we their northern neighbors? Hmmmm. I guess it is all relative to where one lives. A random thought.
Show-off.
Just as the geese fly, so do we. The last week before we hit the road is always a happy/sad occasion. It is important to keep busy. Meals consist of creative use of whatever is left in the fridge, along with figuring out what to take and what to leave.
The fall colors are beautiful here, as I imagine Flagstaff’s colors will be. Driving to Arizona will be like going back in time—from winter to fall, to summer. So weird.
Dota surveys her kingdom
Quarry Lake
Last week, the weather gods decided to smile upon us. We walked to town one day and then took Dota and Puccini to the “big boy” dog park. The aspens and larches were at their peak. Snow was melting and a sense of fall filled the air.
Ha Ling Peak
Spray Lake Moose
Later in the week we took a drive down Spray Lake Road to revisit Sparrowhawk Tarns for a fossil hunt. That morning turned into a wild moose chase of sorts (hahaha). After spotting a moose by the water’s edge at Spray Lake, we pulled over to investigate. Circling back, we patiently waited for the moose to cross in front of us. Unfortunately, when he finally did, he was in the shade.
Dave and I reached the Sparrowhawk trailhead around noon and hiked up to the giant rocks and scree to look at fossils. Strong winds and low temperatures cut our stay a little short, but all in all it was the perfect last hike of the season.
Sparrowhawk Trail rockslide
Lichen
Grizzly tracks
As our week winds down, the snow starts falling. We have seen several deer eating berries around our townhome, as well as a lot evidence of bear activity (tracks and poop). They are no doubt doing a bit of last minute preparation as winter approaches.
I’m beginning to realize how nice it will be to see an Arizona sunset, and once again rediscover the beauty of the Sonoran desert. Aww, look at me, waxing nostalgic. Ask me in a week or so to see if I still feel the same way.
Happy Trails, Alberta.
This was an extraordinary summer. Fires raged and ashes fell. Blue skies gave way to an orange glow. Lack of rain encouraged the flames wrath. There was still beauty amongst the ashes.