CR-2010: Talus Lodge, 1st half

There was a lot of moisture on the ground and in the trees from the previous day's rains, and the bright sun began to turn it into vapor and then clouds. Here is a picture from early in the flight.

After leaving Canmore the first big crossing for the helicopter was Three Sisters Pass, for which I have this video clip.


The five passengers (there would be only five of us at the lodge) eagerly took in the view. Joan's headset had a loose connection, so she was missing the radio conversation between the lodge owner, Chris Espinel, and the pilot, Andrew, about the ceilings and visibility.

A helicopter can fly into much tighter spots than a fixed-wing aircraft can. Andrew was probing the approaches to Talus Lodge, which is at 7600'. Notice how the clouds seem to be getting lower ...

The chopper can also fly very close to the mountain's edge if that's where the clear air is.

As it was, we needed to set down at the Mount Shark helipad (partway back to Canmore) and wait. After an hour and a quarter or so, the clouds had lifted enough to give it another go. Also, Andrew couldn't wait much longer to try again, because the helicopter had other places to be. Here's Andrew and our machine at Mount Shark.

We succeeded on the second attempt. Here is one photo of the lodge; its appearance can be completely altered by the direction of your gaze. It's perched at the treeline, so one view may include only rocks and snow, and another will be quite green.

The two large buildings in the foreground are the lodge itself, on the left, and the wash house on the right. A small cabin originally built to house Chris and others during the construction of the lodge is further away, to the right. Viewed from completely the opposite side, later in the day, the site looked like this:

The lodge normally holds up to 10 guests, but for a special booking, such as a family event, 12 can be squeezed in.

Chris took us on a guided hike that afternoon -- there are no trails at Talus -- and there was off-and-on drizzle. We worked down to a bluff where the water falls off the mountain, which we'll see in a later post. I learned that the fraying of the fabric on my leather-and-fabric boots, at toe creases, meant that despite repeated treatments they were not waterproof. Then we climbed higher, and looked back at the lodge complex from far away. It's at the center of this picture, though you may not be able to see it.

It's easier to see in this zoom-in.

The next morning revealed a sparse overnight snowfall and the peak called "The Talon."

Two of our group, experienced high-country walkers, set out on their own. Chris took the remaining three, including Joan and me, out for the morning's guided hike. Our first stop, after a few hundred yards, was the lodge's water supply. The impoundment is so small, it's easy to overlook, but it's sufficient for the entire needs of the lodge. There's no other source.

Chris is very ecologically conscious, and the lodge has about as close to zero effect on the mountain as is possible. At the end of the season, for example, the pit toilets are dried and the solid waste is helicoptered out for disposal. Similarly, what trash isn't suitable for burning is helicoptered out.

Back to our hike. The various peaks of the Royal Range materialized and dematerialized as  the hourly changes in weather blew clouds in and then away.

As we continued around the Ptarmigan Plateau, we traveled through at least a dozen different kinds of rocks, different geological layers, many half a billion years old, tumbled down from the heights onto the plateau. Then we came to one of the many lakes in the area, alas, too cold for swimming today.

Chris is a man with many interests, and geology is one of them. It surrounds him every moment he's at the lodge, and guests who are professional geologists have fed this passion, and found many exciting things that a lay person would have overlooked. One of these is fossilized fragments of the stems of crinoids, sometimes called "sea lilies." First, here is a view showing the stem wall and hollow center -- the ring in the center of the picture.

Here is a fragment viewed from the side.

I should note that the famous Burgess Shale fossil beds, also roughly 500 million years old, are not far away as the crow (or, here, the raven) flies. There will be more geology tomorrow.

After visiting the lakeside, we dropped down a few hundred feet to a wetter slope that hosted grasses and scattered trees. It was inviting bear territory, but today we saw several of the ptarmigans for whom the plateau was named. They were still in their summer plumage -- it's early September, remember.

Shortly after this bird encounter we stopped for lunch. Then Chris took us on one of his favorite routes up a long draw, or micro-valley. Sheltered from the winds, and being a natural waterway, this draw gave us abundant opportunities to ask Chris about the species of vegetation and flowers. We paused halfway along to admire the view back the way we had just climbed.

We reached and circumambulated the lower cirque lake at the foot of White Man Mountain. From this angle, you can see the Talon standing over the horizon.

By then it was time to return to the lodge and relax a bit before supper. It was also time to try a shower; it had been cool enough the last two days to skip one.  I had to tackle that which we understood in theory but now needed to put into practice: shower prep.

The hot water from the shower comes from two large pots, which Chris made sure were filled and hot, as well as firing up the sauna, each day after the afternoon hike. (I never did try the sauna, nor have I ever done so; perhaps it is an omission in my life.) There is a plastic watering can for each shower, which you fill with a mix of hot and cold water to achieve your ideal temperature. Close the door to your shower room (composed of an anteroom for hanging clothes and the shower itself), undress, hoist the watering can on a rope, step inside, and tilt the can. It works surprising well. There's plenty of water if you treat it as a naval shower. The anticipation of awkwardness was washed away by the reality. Once dry and refreshed, we were ready for meditation and dinner.

Dinner was always very good and very plentiful. I was too busy to take a photo during the meals -- I was stuffing my face! -- but here's an afterwards. You have your own coffee/tea mug for the duration of your visit; one of your first responsibilities on arrival is writing your name on green tape to stake your claim to a mug. Here's a post-dinner snapshot.

Chris fires up the generator at twilight deepens, and it keeps humming until, by definition, "lights out." A midnight trip to the washroom mandates using a flashlight, or, most conveniently, a camper's headlight. When there's no moon, the darkness has a solidity you rarely feel in your ordinary life.

Here the coffee drinkers await breakfast in the morning light.

Our traveling companions for this trip, Knuckles and Ginny, take in the view perched among geological specimens.

After breakfast, it's time for another guided hike ... in the next post.