The next day of our Canadian Rockies trip, July 18th, we flew to Talus Lodge (you must fly in) for a three-night stay. This was our second trip to the lodge, which we had first visited in 2010. I'm mostly clipped out of this photo taken inside the heli.
When we arrived the smoke from forest fires to the north had drawn a thin veil across the sun.
This concatenation of three clips shows some of the helicopter operations. All passengers, staff, and supplies reach the lodge by helicopter.
The lower level of the lodge holds four rooms; the upper level has the kitchen, lounge, and dining areas.
The wash-house, connected to the lodge by a walkway, holds the sauna, showers (pour-it-yourself style), and toilets.
In the early afternoon we set out on our first hike. All hikes here are guided; there are no trails as such. There were eight guests, including two youngsters, and two guides, including the owner, Chris.
Joan and I had chosen this time of year to see the spring flowers. This is probably an alpine buttercup.
Springtime also features plenty of bird activity. This is a juvenile gray-crowned rosy finch.
Chris led us around tarns (seasonal pools) and up moraines, gaining altitude. The lodge is at 2300m, or 7600', so we needed stops to catch our breath. In this photo the lodge is barely visible at the extreme left, below the horizon; click to enlarge. The large lake never dries up.
Our other guide was wearing sporty bandages, supporting some tendons (ligaments?) in advance of a marathon (or was it a triathlon?) at the end of the week.
Alpine fireweed was blooming.
Twenty minutes after photographing the fireweed, I captured this image looking ahead. We will turn left up a side valley and reach the top of the dark bluff, known as Angels' Landing, right of center.
Parts of that climb were steep with shifting rock fragments, so Joan and I were glad to have our hiking poles. We could have done it without them, but our confidence level was much higher with them. Joan took my "summit" photo.
Here is a panoramic view from our summit.
As you can see, the nose of the landing supports a surprising amount of vegetation,
After climbing down from the landing our group visited a waterfall and a natural bridge (alas, no photos). Back at the lodge, standing on the deck as dinnertime approached, I spotted two white spots traversing a high ridge. I suspected it wasn't a case of white rocks, and checked with my binoculars. It was an adult and juvenile mountain goat! Being a notoriously bad spotter, I was inordinately pleased with myself. Dinner was wonderful -- all the meals here were. We looked forward to tomorrow's breakfast.
Our 2014 Canadian Rockies adventure began on May 16, when we flew to Canmore. But there's a prologue, courtesy of Delta Airlines. Joan booked our flights with Delta on January 17th, snagging a great round-trip fare to Calgary from Columbus. We would arrive in Calgary at 11:00 am (give or take), with a one-hour layover in Minneapolis, and depart from Calgary for home at 8:10 am. Three legs were first class; the flight from Minneapolis back to Columbus was economy-only. On February 23rd Delta changed the schedule: the layover in Minneapolis would be 3½ hours, and we would arrive in Calgary at 1:30 pm instead of 11:00 am. There would not be time to take the roundabout route to Canmore via Marv's Classic Soda Shop.The Calgary departure was now 6:50 am. Ugh. Such steps backward to an originally great schedule. On April 24th Delta called us and left a message. Two flights from Minneapolis to Calgary were being combined, and we were bumped out of first class. They were sorry for the inconvenience and would issue us $500 vouchers. And put us on an already clogged wait list for first. Our flight times were the same. May saw two spurts of further alterations, mostly minor, such as flight numbers. But the flight from Minneapolis back to Columbus changed; it would now be a three-class aircraft rather than a single-class, and since we had booked economy, our seats were now in row 20 rather than row 3. When we discovered this Joan called Delta to complain. Hey, if that flight had been three-class from the start ... the agent moved us to 'economy comfort,' the middle class. Squeaky wheel. We arrived in Minneapolis, waited out our longer layover, and then went to the gate, where we saw that Delta was frantic. The flight to Calgary was seriously overbooked; they needed at least 12 or 13 people willing to be bumped in return for flight vouchers. The bidding had actually started 24 hours before flight time on the online check-in. When we arrived the offer was $500 per person. It kept creeping up. By the time we boarded the plane the bump offer was $1300, but the catch was, the next flight would not arrive in Calgary until 11 pm. Not acceptable for us. Several minutes after getting settled in our seats, an agent came on board to and talked to a couple, asking if they were still willing accept the last offer. We heard that those last two seats went for $1500 apiece. Good work, Delta. But we reached Calgary on time, rented a car from Hertz with decent trunk space (VW Passat), and made it to Canmore for the check-in window at Canadian Artisans Bed & Breakfast. This is the window in the door to our suite, the upper of the two offered by Valerie and Bob Knowlden.
We had dinner at Rocky Mountain Flatbread, a short walk from the B&B and an excellent choice for a travel day. Then we crashed after our lengthy adventure. On the 17th we tackled East End of Rundle. This hike is just across the valley from Ha Ling, which we had, to our amazement, successfully completed last year. After parking at a wide area next to Whiteman's Pond we crossed the road and began to climb.
The trail switchbacks as a true trail at first, but quickly becomes braided as it ascends over rock slabs and other obstacles that call for some scrambling skills. A couple of times we backtracked and took an alternate route.
It was huff-and-puff work, but there was always a view of the valley to pause and admire. The slopes of Ha Ling were also constant visual companions.
There are a couple of benches and meadows on the way up where the trail is temporarily flat. This is the first.
Plants and trees flourish in the most unlikely spots in this alpine environment.
Up and up we went. We reached a point where you could look into the Bow and Spray Lakes Valleys, separated by Ha Ling and its siblings, at the same time. The haziness is due to forest fires further north.
A meadow was the second big landmark. Hikers on this meadow had caught our eye last year as we climbed Ha Ling.
Joan and I decided to keep climbing to reach not the peak, but the edge of the ridge, to peer down into the Bow Valley and Canmore.
At full zoom, my camera captured this image of Canmore's new Elevation Place. I don't have a sweeping panorama of the Bow Valley because I was wrestling with my substitute camera on this first outing.
Here's a look down into the Whiteman's Pond, part of the three-dam power generation system fed by the Spray Lakes reservoir. The water falls 300 meters from this middle dam to the second power station. We parked not far from the narrow right-hand end of the pond.
This view looks back the way we had come; the meadow is on the right.
There are a variety of courageous plants growing among the scree up here.
Our hike back down was less intimidating from a route-finding point of view, our having seen the terrain on our way up, but there were still a couple of occasions where we took the less desirable braid, or where Joan and I briefly took separate routes around an obstacle. Going downhill on a steep slope is always tougher on the joints than going up, and we were glad for our hiking poles. We met several people coming up on the way down. A late start doesn't deter people out here. Then again, sunset isn't until after 9:40 pm. Joan and I were well pleased with this initial hike. Our incessant tromping of the paths at Clear Creek Metro Park had strengthened our muscles, but more time was still needed to boost our red blood cells -- I'm sure we reached 8,000' altitude on this hike. Tomorrow we would return to Talus Lodge.
Saturday, October 25th, was a gorgeous fall day, even if it alternated between sunny and blue, then cloudy and gray, and sunny again as a front came through. The Ohio Natural Areas and Preserves Association, ONAPA, was sponsoring a guided hike at the Rockbridge State Nature Preserve. Twice as many people showed up as had registered for this hike,
which would be led by Timothy (Tim) Snyder, author of Rainbows of Rock, Tables of Stone. In this photo Tim is introducing us to some of the geological history of this region of Ohio, at our first rest stop. The initial climb makes you breathe harder, but it's not intimidating.
The trail was well marked; anyone can walk it on his or her own. Stay on it.
About an hour after setting out we reached the bridge. This is my initial view of it, the largest rock bridge in Ohio.
We were treated a talk by Tim about the geological processes that formed the bridge, the erosion of a softer layer of sandstone sandwiched in-between two harder layers, by water entering through cracks in the top layer. We took the trail down to the base of the bridge.
Everybody with a camera, be it a cellphone or an SLR, was compelled to take a picture of this sight.
Many of us continued the short distance to the Hocking River and its flood plain, host in centuries past to canal boats and railroads that would disgorge tourists to picnic on the rock bridge. Curiously, once these forms of transportation disappeared from the Hocking River, the memory of the rock bridge also vanished until more modern times.
As we passed the rock bridge on our return ascent, Joan and I, among others, crossed the bridge, almost 100 feet long, whose width varies from 6 to 20 feet.
A wider view of the elevated passage.
In this farewell view, you can clearly see some slump blocks that fell to the ravine floor behind the bridge.
On the returning loop there is a spur for a second loop, the Rock Shelter loop. Well, why not? The sun was out and the day must be taken to full advantage.
The rock shelter and its slump blocks, perhaps a future rock bridge in the making:
On the rock shelter trail we encountered only four other hikers, two groups of two. This was a huge change from the three dozen, not all of our group, at the rock bridge. After following the loop that caps the rock shelter trail we began our return to the main trail. At our closest approach to the Hocking River there was a good sitting log, where we ate our snacks and peeked between the trees at passing watercraft.
We rejoined the main trail. Near the parking lot a trail section prone to sogginess is covered by a boardwalk, which undulates in spots.
It was not yet 1:30, so Joan and I went on by ourselves to another hike, Rhododendron Cove, a state nature preserve just a few minutes back up Rte. 33. The trail at first is a wide, flat mowed strip that begins between a natural gas pumping station and the public parking area.
The trail veers left and begins to climb, where the trailhead truly begins, with an information station,
and a dedication plaque.
The trail then insists on a steep, aggressive climb to the top of the ridge. My heart was pumping by the time I reached the crest, but mercifully this section is not long. Near the top you pass through halls of stone.
At this time of year leaf litter is everywhere, and covers the trail. The visual landscape clues were usually sufficient for our eyes, but we were glad for the trail markers, some consisting of colored tape on trees, some of medallions on posts.
We paused to admire this somewhat out-of-focus katydid.
There were views of ravines and other ridges, but especially interesting were the rock formations.
Must come back at rhododendron blooming time. Also note the patch of ferns at the bottom of this photo.
The cove trail has its satellite trail, just as the rock shelter trail left from the rock bridge trail. Along this trail there was some golden glory.
There was also a tree trunk with long, narrow scars. Perhaps these were from a deer rubbing itchy velvet on its growing antlers? The marks are not symmetric enough to be bear clawing; anyway, black bears are unusual in this part of Ohio.
One of the passages was slick on our downhill return, aggravated by the leaf litter. Fortunately there were walls to touch.
Joan and I ended our hiking day well satisfied that we had not wasted this precious late-autumn day. And we did a good turn, in that we carried a deceased mylar balloon and busted pair of sunglasses out of Rhododendron Cove.
