CR2016: Tryst Lake and an Avian Revival

On Saturday, August 6th, the forecast was for a 90% chance of rain after 1 pm. Joan and I decided to hike to Tryst Lake, a journey shorter than most, and one we'd done in wet weather before. We took a while to get organized but we still had driven the very short distance to the trailhead by 10 am. It was drizzling already.

The beginning of the route is an old logging road which, if pursued to the end, will take a hiker into the valley of Commonwealth Creek. The Tryst Lake trail is a steep, narrow one that departs from the road at a spot marked by cairns and/or flagging tape, about half an hour of brisk walking from the parking area.

We met two groups of young hikers who were looking for Tent Ridge and weren't sure where they were. They had no maps, but each group had a GoPro camera. You can reach Tent Ridge from Tryst Lake, but it involves uphill bushwhacking (no trail). They weren't keen on that, so Joan and I directed them to the Mount Shark trailhead for Tent Ridge.

The climb, which we had last hiked in 2011, revealed damage from the 2013 floods and recently fallen trees from the very wet July. Short detours through dripping foliage were common. The upper reaches included pocket alpine meadows with gorgeous flowers, much like Purcell.

By the time we reached Tryst Lake it was raining steadily, and we decided to return to the Lodge rather than consume our bagged lunches in these dismal conditions. (Despite the wet July the level of the lake was surprisingly low.) Armed with our poles and a high degree of caution we began our descent, and nobody fell down. We met a friendly couple from Canmore headed up and compared notes for a few minutes.

Back at the lodge we had to hang up every wet thing, including the contents of the day packs and the day packs themselves; even with covers on the outer surfaces they were not 100% waterproof through several hours of substantial rain. Then we enjoyed our lunch in the comfort of the lodge's dining room, with hot tea to boot.

Towards the end of lunch we heard the smack of a bird strike against one of the windows. Joan took off her socks and slippers -- the lodge frowns on outdoor shoes inside -- and investigated. She found a small bird, later identified as a female pine siskin, lying on the deck. It fluttered some. Joan knew that if it hadn't broken a bone or fractured its skull the siskin would probably recover -- if given shelter from the cold, the wet, and any possible predators. She held it using both hands, keeping it warm and dry and giving it time to recover from its concussion/shock. At first it couldn't stand in her hand, then it managed an unsteady, wobbly stance, and finally it could balance even when she tilted her hand.

  It also pooped twice, a good sign.

Eventually the siskin started to blink and do some preening, but turning its head only to the right. Joan's bare feet were getting cold!

After forty minutes of protection the siskin suddenly flew away. During the recovery period Joan had spotted a northern harrier, for which the siskin would have been a helpless morsel.

Mr. Moose paid us an unexpected daytime visit, too, perhaps encouraged by the overcast and damp.

Tomorrow would bring better weather and a big hike.