Day 8, July 26: Happy Trails

Day 8, July 26: Happy Trails

Tonight I’m feeling like I’m suffering from sensory overload. After a wonderful six-hour trail ride today, I decided to drive a few hours up the Icefield Parkway. I think I took a few hundred pictures – everywhere I looked, I wanted to try to capture the view. Of course, this isn’t possible. But I keep trying.

The morning began with a minor success. I have a small backpacking stove that I will carry when I do the backcountry camping I’ll be doing at Yosemite. I had this stove on other trips, but Jesse always ran it. Before I left, he gave me a few lessons, so I have lit it before, but never by myself. I had put off trying it, but this morning I wanted coffee and eggs before I left for the trail ride and decided it was the time to give it a try. I did have to consult the instructions once, but I was successful – I made coffee and scrambled eggs in record time. I’ll be using it most of the time now so I’ll be completely comfortable with it. These minor triumphs seem small, but they bolster my confidence and make me stronger.

After putting all my breakfast gear back in the car, I took the 10 minute drive to the stables. Pulling in, I was impressed with the quality of the horses and the number of people working with them. It turns out many of the stable hands are kids in their 20s and working here for the summer from all parts of the world. Our guide was Jamie, a 22-year-old girl from New Zealand. I could tell immediately I would like her, and I was right. What a sweet, light presence she was. Our group was small – it was just made up of me and a couple from Germany, Florina and Boris. Also very lovely people. I couldn’t have asked for a more intimate and fun group.

We rode for about six hours through some of the most amazing terrain I’ve ever seen. The ride went from deep forest to rocky hillside, wound around two pristine lakes and through some rushing streams. We had to wear heavy coats at times, adding rain gear toward the end, and when we stopped at the second lake, some of us shed all the layers down to a short sleeved shirt. We stopped for a picnic lunch, where we sat on smooth rocks erupting from a field of grass and wildflowers, overlooking a smooth lake. Our final stop was at a small lake called Baker Lake, and we tied the horses and walked down to the end of the lake where it became a stream.

Pulling off our boots and socks, we waded across the stream, picking out rocks to step on. Well, for the most part we did. I said to our group, “I hope I can find rocks that aren’t slippery,” and about that time, found a nice slippery one and fell into the stream. It was quite the comedic move, and I was pleased to provide the entertainment for the group. Fortunately, my camera was in the high-side pocket, and it survived unscathed. Our sweet guide came in to see if she could help me out and she too slipped and fell in. I accused her of going above and beyond her duties by making a sympathy fall. We both rode back with damp jeans, but it was worth the adventure.

We saw no bears, damn it, but we did see some odd looking rabbits who seemed to be having a grand time, and a large badger crossed the trail in front of us. Canada has the loon on its one dollar coin, which they call a looney, and we did see a lone loon out on the lake. He dove and floated and called out his looney call as we rode by.

By the time we returned, my ass was bruised and aching, but it was one of the best rides I’ve had in a long time. The woman who runs the outfit had suggested I take this ride today instead of the one tomorrow because they feel it’s the best scenery. It must be, because I can’t see how it could have been any better.

I shopped for a few groceries afterwards to replenish my supplies, and realized I had almost four hours of daylight left. The Icefield Parkway is one of the things the parks here tout the most, and I knew I only had this afternoon or tomorrow afternoon to make the drive. So I headed north on the park’s famous scenic drive. I was moved to tears more than once as I looked at these mountains, jutting up violently from the earth, still wearing snow and housing some of the planet’s retreating glaciers, just outside my car’s windows. The shapes and sizes of these Canadian Rocky peaks are so varied and dramatic, I felt I was in a foreign land. (Oh wait, technically I guess I am.) They evoked pictures I’ve seen of the Alps or the Himalayas.

The Columbia Icefield contains numerous glaciers, and the park has built a road up close to one of them. Along this road there are signs posted: “This glacier was here in . . .” It’s pretty dramatic to drive where a glacier was less than 75 years ago. The land there is barren and rocky, wet and soggy.  It’s a dramatic illustration of what is happening to the glaciers planet-wide. And to be that close to a glacier is intimidating: The ice is massive and imposing, and breathtakingly beautiful.

I snapped picture after picture as I drove along, sometimes through the windshield of the car, sometimes pulled over and through the driver’s window, and sometimes stopping and getting out to try to capture the effect. I don’t know if any of them did – I’m too tired and saturated tonight to go through them all and to load any on here. After I’m not on data roaming, I plan to add more pictures to this blog.

But I am exhausted – physically, emotionally, and sensorially.  And I have a long hike around Lake Louise tomorrow. So I am off to my tent, where I hope to stay nice and cozy, protected from the predicted 27 degree night air. And where I can dream of glaciers and rushing streams and mountains. And mountains.