Walls of Stone Part 9 – Surprise Creek

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity…”

(John Muir)

In every journey, there are parts that exceed expectations. When I traveled the Red Deer River, the section that took me parallel with the “Coal Trail” (Alberta Highway 595) a road that I drive every day, seemed like just a necessary link between “The Canyon” and the Badlands. It turned out to be one of the best days of my entire journey. The same could be said for the couple of days we spent hiking the lesser-known areas of Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park.

Cerulean Lake

The day began with breakfast in the Mount Assiniboine cook shelter, with people from every imaginable part of the world. Several languages were spoken in the shelter that day. We shared a table with a couple from Belgium. There was an Indian ex-pat from Chicago with his “crew”. We first met them at Wonder Pass and he told us all about the places they had visited in the park. We saw them later in camp and they seemed very urban and out of place, with a boom box that they carried everywhere blaring out some sort of Indian pop music – the type you might hear in a Bollywood movie. They were out there doing it, though and they certainly were enjoying themselves! I laughed when they put on their packs after breakfast – two each, one in back and one in front, all stuffed full of gear. To nobody’s surprise, they were taking the chopper out.

Log book from Surprise Creek cabin

There was discussion about the Simpson River Bridge or lack thereof. I made the remark that I was planning the crossing “hell or high water”. I meant it, even though Don and I had discussed a contingency plan that would involve either heading back to the Smith-Dorrien or heading out at Sunshine. A doctor, who I later called “Dr. Know-it-All” made the comment that “this is how amateurs get into trouble”. Luckily, I didn’t hear the comment. I have been a hiker for more than a couple of years and Don was one of the few people that could actually claim to be a professional hiker, if there ever was such a thing.

Sunburst Lake

We set out, hiking past Lizzie Rummel’s cabin at Sunburst Lake and beyond lovely Cerulean Lake, which are destinations in their own right. We continued through Mitchell Meadows Campground and began the climb to Ferro Pass. We found ourselves once again in total solitude. It would be days before we saw another person.

Ferro Pass proved to be a total delight. I think we were both surprised by how much we enjoyed this narrow strip of meadow, framed between Indian and Nestor Peaks. We sat at the pass, snacked and looked at topo maps and out toward the summits across the valley. There were views down to Wedgewood Lake, in the forestry below. We said our farewells to what would be our last view of the summit of Mount Assiniboine. 

On the oposite side of the pass, I could just see our destination of Rock Lake, tucked into a rockslide on the eastern side of Indian Peak. The beautiful flower meadows on the north side of the pass were perhaps the most beautiful we would see on our entire trip. They certainly stood up to comparisons with meadows I had once encountered on the slopes of Bluerock Mountain and below the avalanche gullies of Piper Creek - meadows that stuck in my memory from years before. They were like traditional English gardens, which are more higgledy-piggledy and less organized than the formal ornamental gardens of the continent.

Rock Lake courtesy Don Wales

Rock Lake held a decent though rustic campsite on its shore. Both Don and I really enjoyed a return to isolation after our visit to the busy Mount Assiniboine campground the night before. The rain showers had begun again and it was a cold night. We sat by the fire and chatted about this and that. The closed bridge and crossing at the Simpson River were uppermost in our thoughts.

 

The next day was the shortest and easiest of the entire journey, but a necessary one. We arrived at the Surprise Creek campsite to find a very nice B.C. Parks cabin, empty and available for use. It certainly was a “surprise” and a pleasant one at that. Of course we both headed straight to the closed bridge over the Simpson. There was a sign and tape barring our way and some of the planks were removed from the bridge. We found a possible ford upstream of the bridge that looked a bit unpleasant, but was not un-crossable. We would sleep on it, but nothing there was going to stop our traverse of the Rockies, and that was a relief!

We spent the day drying things out and exploring the area around the forks of Surprise creek and the Simpson River. I enjoyed the Simpson River and spent several hours shooting footage – some of it in slow motion. The river reminded me a lot of another British Columbia stream; the Lussier River near Skookumchuk. It cut through the surrounding glacial till at its many bends and rocky pools. It might be a good cutthroat stream and the fisherman in me plotted my return in neoprene waders, rod in hand. I could while away many days on a stream like the Simpson…It was still rainy and cool and I stoked up the small wood burning stove (perhaps a bit too much) and set it ablaze before we retired to our bunks that night. 

The next morning we tidied up the cabin, then crossed the dilapidated bridge and hiked among the burned out stumps, half-living trees and deadfall (the results of a 2001 fire)into Kootenay National Park and down toward highway 93. We crossed the bridge over the Vermillion River and stopped for a snack before we turned right and had to trudge up the highway for several kilometres. It was the first road we had seen in over a week. 

the cozy environs of Surprise Creek cabin

A sign proclaiming “burgers ahead” put a smile on my face. We checked into our room at the Kootenay Park Lodge and hit the restaurant for much needed burgers and beer -thus ended the second leg of our crossing of the Rocky Mountains. We had two nights at the lodge and a day to rest and recharge. Four high passes and some of the most grueling hiking of the entire trip still lay ahead.

Walls of Stone Part 8 – Assiniboine

Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
- William Butler Yeats

We crossed Bryant Creek 

that morning and climbed to a westerly traverse of Wonder Peak above Marvel Lake. Whomever named the various features along the way to Mount Assiniboine, spared me the effort of having to break out the thesaurus to come up with superlatives. The weather was good and I found my eyes drawn to the lake below. There were several islands and it looked quite windy down there. The resulting riffles sparkled in the sunlight. Don drew ahead of me as usual, but not because I was struggling. I was determined just to enjoy the hike. This day promised to be the highlight of the trip.

A spruce grouse got ahead of me and was continually driven further and further along the trail. Finally he worked his way uphill from me, then flew over my head and down towards the lake. When I drew even with the end of the lake, I began my ascent toward Wonder Pass. I stopped at a pretty ledge and took a tripod-mounted selfie of myself sitting on a rock and rehydrating for the work ahead.

I resumed my climb to the pass. It was a busy trail, with people coming down the mountain and others heading in my direction. I played leapfrog with a group of young Japanese men, who had also camped at McBride’s the night before. The only thing that took away at all from the experience was the constant din of helicopters, flying hikers and gear back and forth to the lodge. Even that wasn’t really bothering me that day. It all just added to the buzz of finally being on my way to one of the top destinations on my “bucket list”.

The trail switched back and forth across a steep gully and then at tree line it leveled off somewhat. I stopped to take photos and video along the way. All of the elements that make the mountains so enchanting were in abundance. I looked all around at the rocky summits, topped with glaciers. Icy meltwaters cascaded down the cliffs and disappeared behind emerald forests that encircled the shores of the azure lakes below. The pass itself was a garden of alpine flowers, tundra and scree bordered to the west by the cliffs of “The Tower” and the more gradual slopes of Marvel Peak to the east.

Wonder Pass was a busy place. There were backpackers leaving and arriving at Mount Assiniboine, but many of the people had taken a day hike out from the campground or lodge, just to see the pass. For me it was the way forward, but to them it was a destination in itself. I could certainly see why. Eventually, I arrived at the wind-swept summit and saw Don’s pack leaning on the marker. This was our third and final crossing of the Continental Divide.

Don was just across the pass, perusing his topo maps. I stopped to shoot some video and compose a time-lapse of the scene across the pass. I was surprised by the openness of the park. I had expected tighter, narrower valleys. Don pointed out some of the park’s main features including the meadows around Nub Peak (a destination for many hikers). We looked toward Sunshine and Og Lake. After passing a canyon and two young women taking a shower in its waterfall, we arrived at Mount Assiniboine Lodge. 

A woman at the lodge recognized Don and began a conversation. While we were chatting, I noticed a sign that alleged the Simpson River Bridge remained closed and that fording the river was not recommended. I asked her what she knew about that. She had heard a rumor that National Parks staff had closed the bridge, so they wouldn’t have to clear the deadfall along the trail to the Radium highway. This was disconcerting, because our whole traverse of the Rockies hinged on the advent of this one river crossing.

Don’s old style external frame backpack was the “talk of the town” on the boardwalks around the lodge. People kept approaching him to discuss how “retro” it was and most of them shared stories of their old backpacks. Don and I both found it quite amusing.

We headed toward camp and I stopped at a wondrous spot above Lake Magog. Don carried on ahead to find us a camping spot. I found myself transfixed by the iconic scene before me. I took some more time-lapses and ultra-high definition footage of the pretty blue green lake backed by stunning Mount Assiniboine, the “Matterhorn of the Rockies”. I had waited over thirty years to behold this scene, which rivals any in the Rocky Mountains.

We were late for dinner, which was probably my fault and the cook shelter was overflowing with people from every corner of the Earth. Don cooked supper on a stump next to the shelter. I pulled up a stump and joined him for the usual sumptuous meal and a desert of freeze-dried cheesecake, which was surprisingly tasty. Sitting outside the shelter was fine with me, because I could enjoy views of the summit and glacier of Mount Assiniboine. A bald eagle flew high above it all, riding the winds around the summits and over the clifftops. I tried to imagine what that would be like. It struck me that there was no purpose to the bird’s meandering flight, other than the complete joy of riding the up-draughts. Don always had many amusing tales of his many adventures. He told me of a time when two climbers took him to Assiniboine’s nearly 12,000 foot (3618 m) summit and of a more recent time when he took the chopper to the lodge and the mountain was completely obscured by cloud. This can be a common experience for visitors and we were lucky to enjoy such excellent views and good weather.

Me and my baby

I seized every opportunity that I could to spend time with the mountain. After supper, we sat in the meadows next to our campsite and watched the light of the setting sun reflect off of the summit. Being in the presence of Mount Assiniboine, was akin to sharing the room with a most stunningly beautiful woman and being unable to draw one’s eyes away from her.

Walls of Stone Part 7 – Banff Park South

Packing up the tents at our Palliser River camp - Mount Queen Elizabeth in the background

The next morning we set off toward the Palliser Pass. The trail wasn’t always well defined, but we would stop once in a while to discuss the possible routes. They all led to the pass, but some were more direct than others. We were still on the B.C. side and the forest was still quite dense. We passed Palliser Lake and it was prettier than I expected – azure blue and surrounded by mixed forest. After Back Lake the trees opened up and we crossed the Continental Divide for the second time in two days and into the southern tip of Banff National Park. We were into open terrain once again. Mounts Queen Elizabeth and Williams bracketed the pass. Belgium Lake lay to our left. Miles and miles of an open, wide valley and its willow lined river lay ahead.

Palliser Lake

Western Toad

There was a lot of movement in the vegetation along the river and I stopped to observe that most of it was due to the many toads living in this remote valley. I had experienced this before – in the Mist Creek valley and near Burns Creek waterfall. Toads are common inhabitants of the Rocky Mountains.

It was an easy day after that, as we moved gradually down the valley. Several times we had to navigate around places where the meandering river had obliterated the trail. We could see Burstall Pass to the east. I remember sitting just below the pass many years before with my beloved Jack Russell Terrier, Billy and staring out into the Spray Valley. I could see Leman Lake from my lofty perch and Spray Pass behind it. I thought that one day I might cross the Palliser Pass and visit the remote Palliser River valley…

I stopped to look back toward the pass once more and I saluted the Palliser valley. Good bye and good riddance…

Both Don and I had been impressed with the quality of the backcountry campsites in Kananskis Country – they had all been upgraded in the intervening years since I last backpacked. The tent pads were good, there was nearby water, there were food lockups (more convenient than bear poles) and even the outhouses were quite pleasant. You could bring your wife or girlfriend backpacking now and not have to subject her to those nasty old shacks! The food preparation has been moved away from sleeping areas on the advice of bear attack expert, Stephen Herrero no doubt. It is a bit less convenient, but much safer for both bears and people. I believe the communal fires discourage wasted wood and offer an opportunity to meet some of your fellow hikers.

We camped at the Birdwood back country site. The new standards are not being assumed by our National Parks. The bear safety facilities were good, but the rest wasn’t comparable. There were cables to hang your food, which was alright. The rest, I could live with, but camps with no water just seemed ridiculous. The back-country standards of our National Parks have definitely fallen behind both the Alberta and B.C. Provincial Parks.

We were surprised when a young couple arrive at this remote campsite. They joined us at a picnic table as we prepared dinner. John and Laura were Swiss adventurers out hiking the Great Divide Trail. They had started in Waterton and had followed us over the North Kananaskis Pass and up the Palliser. We listened to their itinerary and had to take our hats off to them both. They were probably doubling the amount of kilometers we would do every day over rough terrain. It’s no wonder most of the peaks in the Rockies were initially climbed by Swiss Guides! I was impressed. They had many tales of their adventures around the world. I felt a bit out of place as they swapped stories with Don about traveling to Iceland, Europe and Nepal.

They were gone by the time we got out of our sleeping bags the next morning. We had managed to go a couple of days without precipitation, but now it began to rain as we set out on muddy trails that had been churned up by pack horses heading up and down the valley that morning. Then it began to pour, making the going very difficult. No wonder the trails had been twinned in many places! For hikers, horses can be a double edged sword. They often leave trails that wouldn’t be open at all if not for them (such as the Palliser), but they can churn up what would be good trails and leave them in a complete muddy mess, covered with dung and drawing every fly in the valley. For the most part, I respect the horse guides. This is their domain and most of them are far more knowledgeable about this country than I ever will be. It’s “live and let live”. That didn’t stop me from cursing them under my breath that morning.

 

We hardly noticed Mounts Warre and Vavasour (named for two British agents who came this way on a mission to the Oregon territories) and the turn-off to historic Whiteman Pass, as we trudged through the mud. Just before Bryant Creek, we ran into a jolly group of fellow hikers who were heading up the Spray River Valley. I noticed that they hardly had any gear. They explained that they had paid for horse guides to deliver their gear and setup a camp near the Palliser Pass. One of them asked me how the trail was.  I just smiled and told them that the trail was in wonderful condition. “Enjoy!” I’m not usually so passive-aggressive. They were all in good spirits and several of them laughed at my remarks as they continued past me.

The rain stopped, and the sun came out just as we arrived at the Bryant Creek Bridge. We took the opportunity to eat and dry out some of our gear. Then we continued up a wider, better trail to our next camp at McBride’s near the Bryant Creek warden cabin. We had time to enjoy the wide open meadows and pretty mountain valley around the cabin that evening. I was already excited about the next day and my first-ever visit to iconic Mount Assiniboine.