Walls of Stone Part 6 – The Palliser

“It’s always further than it looks. It’s always taller than it looks. And it’s always harder than it looks.”
(The three rules of mountaineering)

Many great men had crossed the North Kananaskis Pass ahead of us - James Sinclair in the 1880’s and a few years later, Captain John Palliser. In 1916, the Boundary Commission explored the pass.[1]

The "Boundary Pine" once marked the southern boundary of the old Buffalo Head Ranch

Adventurer, explorer, best-selling author and fellow countryman; Raymond M. Patterson passed this way in 1945. He had bought the Buffalo Head Ranch from his friend, George Poceterra in 1933. The Highwood, Sheep, Elbow, Kananaskis and Elk valleys were wild places in those days - beloved places that he knew intimately. Things had changed though, and would continue to change. In 1933, the Upper Kananaskis Lake was dammed. In 1936, the massive “Phillips” fire burned down the old growth forest in the Highwood and almost destroyed his ranch. Now a highway was being constructed… “A road wiping out the old wagon trail, came wriggling up the valley like a dusty, ill-omened snake.” [2]

Patterson sold the Buffalo Head and with his wife, Marigold took a team of pack horses across the snowy Highwood Pass, then toward the North Kananaskis. There was deep drifted snow in the Maude Lake bowl and drifts across the pass itself, but they pushed ahead through a gathering storm not knowing what lay ahead. When he reached the pass and looked past the drifts his heart soared – the Palliser below was snow-free! “True there was a shocking great drift in our immediate path, but that could be dealt with somehow when the moment came. And in the meantime –Hail Kootenay! Hallelujah!”[3] The two of them crossed the pass into British Columbia and never returned…

La Ray Creek - The Royal Group in the background

It was a steep downhill once we crossed the North Kananaskis Pass into British Columbia. We were about to lose any of the altitude we gained over the last two days and then some. I remebered that Patterson had encountered a grizzly after crossing the divide and we both began to call out, “Heeeeey! Oooohh!”.  Our voices echoed off of the summits and across the valley. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the stunning Royal Group of mountains that lay across the Palliser River Valley as we made our long descent. . Now we were following Le Roy Creek into the edge of the Kootenay Region – a vast area in the south east corner of B.C. I noticed a trail across the scree slope to our left. Don said it went across Beatty col, past Beatty Lake and on to Three Isle Lake. It could be used as part of a very nice loop trip.

The Palliser River Valley had been one of the question marks on our journey. On the topographic map, the notes say “The trail from North Kananaskis Pass to Palliser River and north to Palliser Pass is overgrown, but passable. Not for the inexperienced.”[4] Near the bottom we forded Le Ray Creek and followed an intermittent trail to a crossing of the Palliser River, which was actually more like a tributary stream than the creek was. We were able to cross it by rock-hopping. It was strange to be in that deep valley bottom, with its spruce, fir and poplar trees after crossing a treeless alpine pass just an hour or so before. Now we would be heading once more uphill to the Palliser Pass. We turned north and set off through the thick B.C. bush along the valley bottom.

I would dare say that neither Don nor I are “forest people”. We like trees well enough, but I think we would much rather be hiking the meadows and rocky open slopes of the high mountains. At some point this would be our undoing… I think both of us were a bit tired that day. Don had endured a cold, sleepless night. The trail was there alright, but we had to constantly be looking down to follow it, which was tedious. Part of the problem was that we were unable to see our feet or any rocks or other obstacles on the pathway. At one point I stepped on a wet tree root and my legs slipped out from under me, depositing me ingloriously in the wet bush. It took a bit out of me and it was a while before I got up. By then I was hopelessly behind Don. I caught up to him at a creek crossing and he wasn’t happy. He had tried to rock-hop across and had slipped and landed on his backpack in the water. I think he had recovered quickly from that, but he had soaked his camera, which was dangling from his neck. I learned from his mistake and waded across. We proceeded ahead once more, the trail getting steeper and steeper. I dropped behind, stopping many times to cool down and catch my breath. For the first time, I was feeling utterly exhausted, but there was nothing for it. I just had to push on. 

I found Don at a clearing next to a pond. The spot looked like an old outfitter’s camp. We were just below Palliser Lake. I was relieved to see that Don had decided to make camp there. I was totally spent to a point that I was feeling ill. I felt guilty, but I had to just sit there resting while Don began to unpack and prepare supper. Neither one of us was in a good mood. 

 “Walking the hills of Lousana isn’t enough to prepare you for this”, Don quipped.

Yet here I was, I thought to myself. Instead I retorted “Crossing the Rocky Mountains was never going to be easy!”

Silence.

After a while we both began to recover our faculties. We rested and (probably more importantly) re-hydrated and our moods improved. Don set up camp while I attempted to use a rock in an old rusted tin can to string up a makeshift bear pole.

“It’s a nice camping spot” Don said. I looked around and I had to agree. I could see the notch that was the Palliser Pass ahead. There was a female harlequin duck feeding on small creatures where the river flowed into the pond. It had been a long day, full of adventure. We had crossed three passes so far – there were only seven more to go!

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[1] Kananaskis Country Trail Guide, Gilean Daffern, Rocky Mountain Books, 1985

[2] The Buffalo Head, R.M. Patterson William Sloane Associates, New York, 1961

[3] The Buffalo Head, R.M. Patterson William Sloane Associates, New York, 1961

[4] Kananaskis Lakes Map and Trail Guide, Gem Trek Publishing Ltd.

Walls of Stone Part 5 – The Kananaskis

It was an uneventful walk down the mountain from Elbow Lake to the busy Elbow Pass parking lot on Highway 40. I had worked diligently to plan a route that included as little road walking as possible, but it was unavoidable. We headed north up the highway for a few kilometres then we took a gated access road used by parks staff supplying the Boulton fire lookout. Later, at the intersection of three roads we stopped at a handy picnic table to eat the sandwiches my wife, Bev had brought up to Elbow Lake. We had missed her by just 5 minutes. After turning right at the intersection, it wasn’t too long before we had reached our base camp at Boulton Creek. That ended the first (and easiest) leg of our journey.

Don and I had both agreed that we would consider it a success if we completed our trip across the mountains without seeing any bears and so far, so good… My wife however could not say the same. On the kilometer and a half trail up to Elbow Lake, she had run head-first into a grizzly that was attempting to avoid some picnickers – two women and their children. The bear doubled back into the bushes then crossed the trail below her, while a group of annoyed tourists hissed at Bev and told her to get out of their photos. A grizzly can be a ferocious creature, but luckily they can also be tolerant. Her amusing account made us laugh, but it does make me wonder where it will all end. Not well for the bears I fear.

Packing for the second leg

I had planned a two-night, one day stopover with proper food, showers and all the luxury my little travel trailer could afford. Don and his wife, Marie (who had joined us) took a side trip to Picklejar Lakes and saw a grizzly sow and cubs. We were due to set out to The Forks of the Upper Kananaskis River after a day’s rest, but it was raining so hard that we decided to wait another day and then make a longer hike past The Forks and straight on to Turbine Canyon backcountry campground. We took advantage the extra day to have a nice dinner and drinks at the Kananaskis Delta Hotel.

The rain was still pounding down the following morning as we hiked through the Interlakes parking lot and past Upper Kananaskis Lake. We were now following the upper Kananaskis River. The journey so far had gone well, but really it was only a prelude, a warm-up for the more serious hiking that lay ahead. It had been a bit of a dawdle as the English would say. That was about to change.

Kananaskis River

It was still wet when we arrived at The Forks campground. We stopped for a bite to eat and then pushed on. There are two routes from the forks – one to Three Isle Lake and South Kananaskis Pass and the one we were following toward Lawson Lake. We passed a group of athletes jogging out from the Beckie Scott Training Centre, located at the foot of the Haig Glacier. The trail began to get steeper and there was a series of switchbacks. Don pushed ahead and soon I could no longer see him. It was a cold wet day, but now I was feeling hot in all my rain gear. I stopped to sort out my clothing and gear, then continued the climb up the grade – stopping several times to catch my breath and rehydrate. I caught up with Don on the downhill stretch to Lawson Lake. We could see the lake through the rain and mist. 

Lawson Lake

I stopped to shoot some time-lapse video for my film. The shot captured the moment when the weather began to change. Fog began to lift as the sky cleared. By the time we got to Turbine campground, the skies were blue and we could see all of the mountains that surrounded us. There were quite a few other travelers at the campground – some were American kids on a tour of the Canadian Rockies. 

This was all new territory for me. I could see the backside of Mount Black Prince. I long ago hiked the cirque on the other side of the mountain.  In 2000, I visited the grave of the Black Prince, at Canterbury Cathedral. I believe the mountain is named for the battleship that bore his name.

I was ok in my new sleeping bag, but Don had a very cold night. He was finding the older sleeping bag he brought was not always enough, even with the liner he used as a supplement.

 

The next morning I went to check out the interesting canyon that gives the campground its name. The creek flows down into a crevice in the limestone and has carved a deep slot canyon that is hard to see below the stone. It is even more difficult to capture on video, but I did my best. I couldn’t resist jumping the canyon - which is perfectly safe, but it did make my heart pound.

We had a long difficult day ahead of us and Don was keen to get going that morning. He headed off up the trail, while I fiddled with my gear. I followed him, stopping to get some footage of the Beatty Glacier along the way. We were near the summit of the Kananaskis drainage and surrounded by scenic alpine country in every direction. 

Maude Lake is situated in a high bowl between two limestone ridges. I could see the narrow gap of the North Kananaskis pass across the pretty blue alpine lake. Thirty years before, I had pored over maps and read descriptions of this trail. An instructor at the Southern Alberta Institute of Technology had told me of his fishing trip to this very spot. I had long dreamed of visiting this high mountain lake and here I was! 

Maude Lake

Yes, there I was, but where was Don? I looked up the trail and I could see him sitting next to the pass on the edge of a scree slope. I figured he would wait. I got off the trail and setup my camera to get some ultra-high definition footage of the lake and do a time-lapse of the clouds rolling across the Divide. There was no place in the entire world that I would rather be at that moment. In the midst of my time-lapse shot, Don headed back around the lake toward me. I was perplexed when he continued down the trail and right past me. Surely he had seen me. He seemed annoyed. Had he forgotten something back at camp? I finished my shot and headed around the lake to the pass to setup some more shots. A hoary marmot ran across the tundra as I arrived. Finally I could see Don coming back up the trail. 

I had the camera ready for a “title shot” of Don and I crossing the Great Divide into British Columbia. I could tell Don was annoyed when he rejoined me at the pass, but by then we both realized what had happened. He had missed me. I should have yelled at him, but I was sure he had seen me. Any way he had cooled down by then and I put on my pack, started the camera rolling and we both walked across the North Kananaskis Pass together. 

I went back and grabbed my camera and tripod. When I checked it later, the shot had turned out very well. It will definitely be the title shot for my film, when it is completed. Now it was time to move on. We still had a very long, hard day ahead of us. We headed down the mountain and into the wild Palliser River Valley.

Walls of Stone Part 4 – The Upper Elbow

Rae Lake

We decided to take a side trip to Rae Lake. Don had never visited before and it had been years since I had been there. Cotton grass lined the shore near the outflow from the lake. Last time I was at the lake, a beaver dam blocked the mouth of Rae Creek – raising the water level. The dam was gone, perhaps washed away by the 2013 downpour. There are signs of that historic storm almost everywhere in Kananaskis country these days.

Don has a degree in entomology, but botany seems to be his passion now he has retired from teaching. He spent some time shooting stills of the many and varied flowers near the lakeshore. I took some video of the lake backed by the Palliser Limestone cliffs of Mount Rae. There had been a couple of goldeneye ducks at Tombstone Lakes and there were more at Rae Lake. I tried to sneak closer to the waterfowl to get some footage. I had left my strongest zoom lens at home…

We returned to get our packs and food at Tombstone Creek, and journeyed west into the upper Elbow River valley. We both knew this mountain valley well and enjoyed walking the rocky trail and recounting stories of the numerous times we had each hiked this high country. The upper valley is open, grassy country, dotted with wildflowers and pockets of willow and krumholtz. The fledgling Elbow River cuts through limestone outcrops and splashes over rapids and small waterfalls. Off the trail, there is a hidden marshland frequented by moose. I have never visited the Highlands of Scotland, but it is how I imagine they might be.

Piper Creek Valley

The most spectacular views are the ones to the north of the river and up Piper Creek. The valley is bracketed by Mount Elpoca to the west and Tombstone Mountain to the east. Mount Jerram is visible at the northern head of the valley and I could see the valley’s alpine meadows in the distance. At certain points, the pass we had planned to take across from the West Fork was visible – a dip to the right of a mass of softer reddish Kootenay limestone. This beautiful valley is named for Norma Piper – Calgary music teacher and would-be opera diva and wife of George Poceterra. George was the owner of the Buffalo Head Ranch in the early days of the Twentieth Century. In those days the upper Highwood valley was his backyard and most of Kananaskis Country was his wild Alberta kingdom. Along with Nakoda Indian; Paul Amos (Spotted Wolf), German Adolf Baumgart and Englishman Raymond Patterson he explored, hunted and fished his way all around this country and into what is now the Elk Lakes and Height of the Rockies Parks in British Columbia.

We made our way across the ice-cold waters that flow from the ever diminishing Rae Glacier and then crossed the small footbridge that crosses the infant river just as it flows from its source; Elbow Lake. The campground next to the lake is the busiest backcountry campground in Kananaskis Country and I recommend booking well ahead if you are planning a stay. The lake is at Elbow Pass, situated between Mount Rae (the most northern peak of the Misty Range) and Mount Elpoca (the most southerly mountain in the Opal Range).

Looking across Elbow Lake and back down the Elbow Valley

After we made camp, it began to rain again and was quite cool, so we sat by the fire and chatted with a young woman from Calgary and her Czech boyfriend. We saw them both again the next morning, before we set off down the mountain to highway 40. They were heading out into the open high country that we had just traversed. We gave the novices a bit of advice about the realm we knew so well. I recalled how it felt to be so young and arrive in that lovely high country for the first time and I envied them both.

Walls of Stone Part 3 – Tombstone

We had been looking forward (perhaps with some trepidation) to the second day out. I had planned on taking the West Arm of the little Elbow and crossing Piper Pass into spectacular Piper Creek (one of Don’s and my favorite valleys). It was so warm when we set off that I never expected that we would need to take our alternate route across Tombstone pass. The clouds were low on the peaks and the rain continued to fall that morning, so we decided the alternate route was our best option. Piper Pass from the north can be tricky even in good weather; though I am sure it is a viable option.

Upper Tombstone Lake

The road toward Tombstone Pass was steeper than I expected, but the going was easy. Just before the pass, we branched off onto a trail that took us to Tombstone Lakes. This was our first visit to the subalpine zone and we found ourselves walking among one of the largest alpine larch forests in Kananaskis Country. I have often thought that it would be well worth a visit in the autumn. We emerged at the upper of the two lakes and talked to some would be fishermen who were trying their luck. It appeared that the fish in that lake had been winter-killed, because there was no sign of strikes on the lake at all. I have heard this is often the case in the Tombstone Lakes and they sometimes need to be restocked (once with golden trout, I believe). 

Slabs of limestone give the mountain its name

Both upper and lower lakes are tucked under the jagged cliffs of Tombstone Mountain. The mountain gets its name from the limestone slabs at its summit, which are visible from the other side. I recalled the last time I visited, half a lifetime ago. It is probably just a little too far from the highway to do as a day hike and I never expected to revisit this spot, but here we were. Don had been to nearby Piper Creek many times, but had never been to these pretty lakes. As I found out, it was difficult to find many places in the Rockies that he hadn’t been…

Between the two lakes we passed through a “rock garden” of sorts, which was populated by three of my favorite alpine flowers. The limestone was dotted with yellow columbine, blue alpine forget-me-nots and pink moss campion. At the lower lake, we saw the fishermen again and this time they were busy catching pretty cutthroat trout. 

Lower Tombstone Lake

The trail descended a ridge into the Elbow valley and we made camp at Tombstone Creek backcountry campground. This site is on the western edge of the Elbow River Headwaters Group of mountains. The Big Elbow and Little Elbow trails rejoin and can be hiked as a loop trip. It is an excellent place for some of the base-camp type backpacking that I used to enjoy and there are many interesting trails and scrambles that radiate from this location in every direction. Many “Canada Days” weekends ago my future wife and I landed at this spot to find that there was a conflagration of hundreds of backpackers, all looking to make camp. The next morning they had almost all departed except for two other young couples, who put on a spectacular (if not ill-advised) Sunday night fireworks display.

The clouds had cleared off by the time Don and I got to camp and we had plenty of time to relax and enjoy the environs of the Upper Elbow valley. We were in the midst of a wide montane vista, adjacent to the large willow flats surrounding the river. I could see Tombstone and Elpoca Mountains to the north and west, Mount Rae to the southwest, Cougar Mountain to the southeast and the backside of Mount Cornwall to the east. Several mule deer hung around the camp and we watched a robin defend its territory from a red squirrel. We both were surprised by the ferociousness of the robin’s repeated attacks. This was something I had never before observed, but I had read that the mortality of snowshoe hare young is due almost entirely to squirrel predation - so the confrontation did make sense. 

 

We had the campground to ourselves again that night, so it would have been a quiet night except for the fact that we were under the western flightpath of the Calgary airport. As we lay in our sleeping bags, there was an almost constant roar of jets overhead.