Canada (2019) Part Nine: Galatea Lakes

Tuesday, Sept. 17 (2019). This was our last hike, the day for us to tackle our "goal" destination after two weeks in the mountains: Upper Galatea Lake. The previous year we'd made it almost to the lower lake, but weather and time had turned us back. We were determined to succeed this time. It would be work; it's a 18.6km/11.6 mile round-trip, gaining 806m/2644 feet to an altitude of 2230m/7316ft.

Joan and I rose early to have breakfast and then grab lunch fixings at the Market Cafe of Pomeroy Kananaskis. We drove out to the Galatea Lakes parking area and hit the trail at 8:00am.

After a brief downhill we reached the bridge across Galatea Creek.

In case you were tempted to ford it --

Shortly thereafter we crossed a modest footbridge over a tributary flowing down from the mountains; this stream would be with us for miles. At the far side there was a trail sign.

Left green circle, our destination. Right circle, our starting point.

The next section began with uphill switchbacks, followed by repeated crossings of the stream on replacement bridges,

each revealing damage and wreckage from the floods of 2013. Joan and I would eventually cross ten bridges.

This first zone was largely in the woods. Then the trail climbed away from the creek and entered a zone of mixed woods and rock falls. In places the water had cut itself into a deep canyon.

Joan and I noticed, along a short stretch, several spray-painted purple markings on the trail and finally a purpled stone sitting in the middle of the path. Trail maintenance markings, perhaps? Or hikers from a school with purple colors? Another mountain mystery.

The climb continued with more creek crossings. The way ahead did not yet appear any shorter.

A major landmark was a flat grove suitable for a pause and a bite.

The grove continues to the right of this photo.

Over the last few years Joan and I have discovered the importance of snacks, particularly for me. Last year we made it all the way to Lillian Lake before eating anything, and Joan told me that by the end I was plodding in slow motion. After sharing a chocolate bar with her, I took off so fast she could barely keep up. (My fasting blood sugar is near the low end of normal). This time, we were stopping every 90 minutes or so for a small snack -- usually dark chocolate from Le Chocolatier -- and my efforts were much steadier.

Flood damage is visible most of the way to Lillian Lake.

After climbing a final, stubbornly steep stretch we emerged on her shores.

This photo looks back the way we've come.

In season Lillian is mobbed by overnight campers, but in mid-September it was deserted. She does host, however, a spiffy solar-powered biffy, and most welcome it was.

After another chocolate stop Joan and I continued up wooded switchbacks until we emerged into the rocky zone.

That saddle is Guinn's Pass, even higher than Galatea.

It's still uphill from here! Looking back at Lillian ...

The trail marker where the path to Guinn's Pass intersects.

We approached the lower Galatea Lake.

The route to the upper lake dipped down to the shoreline and then hopped over that far ridge, revealing this view.

Joan and I continued on the path at far right in the above photo, searching for a congenial lunch spot. We chose this one.

The prominence is Mount Galatea, the highest point in the Kananaskis range at 14,500 ft. During lunch we spotted a golden-crowned kinglet, and, high above, a golden eagle cruising around the peaks. Next, a more panoramic view of the upper lake.

Joan and I explored a bit of the terrain. There were several shallow bear diggings, indicated yummy bulbs had been present. Deeper diggings would have indicated that the target was ground squirrels.

The view from the shore of the lower lake on our return.

We spotted our first fellow hikers of the day, two figures ahead of us on the Guinn's Pass trail,

Click on the image to enlarge.

who disappeared from view as we marched on. When we reached the junction Joan and I met two women from Red Deer who also decided to tackle the pass. Then we saw people coming up from Lillian Lake; clearly, the wave of those who start later was catching up to us.

On our way back ...

We paused on the Lillian Lake shore for another snack and biffy visit.

Among the incoming hikers was family of three: Mom, Dad, and a toddler carried high in a backpack by Dad so the kid could see ahead. Balancing that load must be an acquired skill.

A bold chipmunk kept an eye on us, probably a least chipmunk.

The sun played peek-a-boo, sharing time with brief showers that lasted just long enough to persuade us to don our rain jackets. But our return hike was basically dry.

Heading down the valley.

The air grew warmer as we descended. Late-starters were having fun on and around the bridges lower down. Finally Joan and I reached the parking area at 5:15, 9¼ hours after setting out, a pace of 1.15 miles per hour -- including snack stops, lunch, bird identifying, gazing at mountains, and so forth. Because of these factors our hikes are often in the 1¼ to 1½ mph range.

One woman in the parking area, with husband and dog waiting in the wings, asked Joan, "How far is it?" Joan replied,"Where are you going?" Her response, "Where did you go?" Joan: "We started at 8:00!" With that our questioner lost interest.

The following day was our last in this visit, and after checking out we drove down to Canmore to browse shops and art galleries. Of course, we swung by Le Chocolatier to pick up treats for ourselves and friends and neighbors back home. Large interior windows provided a view into the works.

We also spotted a hang glider gradually descending over the town!

Then it was on to Calgary and the airport hotel, where we had dinner with Barry Ronellenfitch, who I met almost two decades earlier at a retreat. The next morning Joan and I flew off on a day-long trip back home.

This Canadian visit was another great success; we do love the mountains. Our plans for 2020 were made over the next few months, but then upended by the coronavirus. Our fingers are crossed for 2021.

Canada (2019) Part Eight: Kananaskis Fire Lookout

On Sept. 16, 2019, Joan and I decided that, due to the iffy weather forecast for today, we'd hike up to the Kananaskis Fire Lookout, a journey not too high nor too strenuous.

We drove down Highway 40, discovering along the way that a number of the day use areas and pullouts/trailheads were already closed and gated. Perhaps this happens automatically after Labor Day. We continued to where the fire road leaves the highway, the place to begin unless you are staying in one of the Kananaskis campgrounds. The road is locked so that only authorized vehicles can use it, but the gate is far enough along that two or three cars can park here without blocking access.

It is as if three different services need access to this road, and each requires its own key: the barrier is sealed by three locks, and the key to any one will suffice to open the way.

Joan and I set off and soon discovered bear scat -- not fresh but not terribly old either. Fortunately the sight lines along the road are long.

Shortly thereafter we encountered spruce grouse. Here's a guy,

and a gal.

Sometimes multiple "grice" at once! Our count for the day would be four males and one female.

Also along this stretch we interlopers were chastised by a red squirrel.

The rolling up-and-down stretches had easy footing because there were no roots to worry about, but then transformed into a steep uphill hike, including switchbacks. Eventually the fire lookout complex came into view.

The lookout is residential and not to be disturbed.

There are benches for visitors.

A registry as well.

A chilling wind blew steadily up here, but Joan and I found a more sheltered stone bench and viewpoint for our lunch break. Here are some sights; first, zooming in on Upper Kananaskis Lake, which we've explored much of.

In the next photo the edge of Upper is at far left, and much of the Lower Kananaskis Lake stretches in front of Mount Indefatigable, which we had visited five years before to reach a viewpoint above the lake.

On our way down we spotted some Canada jays (known as the "gray jay" prior to 2018),

and also juncos, which have a number of variations. Unlike the slate gray juncos we see in the winter in Ohio, this one had the coloration of the Oregon variety.

On our way back after the hike Joan and I stopped at the Kananaskis Valley visitors center. Plenty of exhibits were sprinkled around; I could envision campers spending a rainy day here. One of the staffers told us that a grizzly had spent much of the previous day in the meadow next door, for which the center had a big-window observation room.

Tomorrow, our last hiking day on this visit to Canada, we would try to reach Upper Galatea Lake, our 2019 "goal" destination after having been toughened up by the previous two weeks of hiking.

Canada (2019) Part Seven: Jumpingpound Summit and Beyond

Sunday, September 15 (2019). Joan and I started out at the Market of Pomeroy Kananaskis resort, buying breakfast sandwiches, lunch sandwiches, and two large cookies. The breakfast was consumed on the spot.

We departed for a hike to Jumpingpound Summit and beyond. The drive included, first, a drive on the unpaved Sibbald Trail, and then 16½ km on the "not for travel use" Powderface Trail. On this Sunday we didn't encounter any logging trucks, but it was mandatory to keep an eye out for oncoming traffic nonetheless. Today it was quiet. We were the first at the parking area for Jumpingpound, although another car quickly arrived. Its occupants embarked on the trail before we did.

The red circle is the parking area.

Soon after starting out Joan and I were passed by a fellow on a mountain bike, but we didn't encounter anyone else on the long series of switchbacks taking us up through the forested slopes of the mountain. A short spur partway up led us to a wooden bench and a view.

We marched on through the forest,

and finally reached the ridgeline, where the trees became smaller and sparser. Thoroughly warmed up, Joan and I removed our outer fleece jackets. The cold breeze was welcome. Our trail intersected a much longer north/south trail, and we headed north.

Map from parking area to Jumpingpound summit.

After a gentle, climbing walk we reached open ground and the trail to the summit departed to the right.

The view from the summit to the west, towards the valley we had driven down.

Joan and I decided, after some discussion, to continue along the visible but unofficial trail along a series of tops beyond the summit, rather than return to the longer Cox Hill trail -- more scenery per mile. Gillean Dafern's page on this route gave us the confidence to tackle these tops. This was the view ahead.

The route took us through thick woods and open meadows, but there was almost always a trail to follow.

We sat on the lee side of top #1 for a first lunch. Below to the left we had been seeing a mysterious site come into view, which we now realized was a wellpad (natural gas, built 1993, it turns out).

After lunch it was time to descend from top #1 and then ascend to top #2. The distances were not as great as they had appeared from Jumpingpound Summit. Partway up the next hill the trail disappeared into a treeless meadow, but the goal was in plain sight. At the top was a tall post.

It's a survey marker.

Along the way we had seen a wide variety of hardy plant species in the open spaces, eking out a living at ~7000 feet altitude and 51° north latitude. Some examples:

Red sedum/succulent probably not associated with the greenery.

Dried yellow rattle.

One of the many species of hawkweed.

From here we could see that reaching top #3 would involve much more elevation change and some road-walking,

Click on the image to enlarge.

so this was a good time to turn around. Soon we could see, through binoculars, new arrivals reaching the top of Jumpingpound Summit, including several groups with dogs. As we climbed back up Jumpingpound I took this photo looking back, with the trail we'd been on visible in the open areas.

We revisited the summit and then began the hike back down. On this Sunday there were plenty of late hikers coming up.

On our descent we stopped again at the viewpoint bench. (It always seems to be 2/3 of the way up when hiking up, and 2/3 of the day down when hiking down, a common illusion.) Another couple was there, and during our conversation we learned that their son is teaching at Ohio State. We taught them the obligatory call-and-response of "O-H", "I-O."

Joan and I had our second lunch there, each of us having half a sandwich that would otherwise go bad. Then it was back to the car and our hotel. Although we returned at 4:30 our room had not been serviced yet, and we needed to clean up before our dinner reservation time. I went downstairs to complain and received a promise to send someone right away. Half an hour later Joan went down and read them the riot act, and help then did arrive right away. They were understaffed and servicing vacated rooms before overstay ones -- not our problem!

A quick shower and an excellent dinner followed, lighter than yesterday's. Given the forecast of a chance of rain, we decided on the Kananaskis firetower as tomorrow's destination, leaving our primary goal this year, Upper Kananaskis Lake, for the day after.