Canada 2024: Lake McArthur, frozen

On July 10th, 2024, Joan and I aimed our hike toward Lake McArthur, Joan's father's favorite lake. As usual, we ascended via the Big Larches (what I sometimes call the "big steps") route. After leaving the O'Hara lakeshore, a couple of intersections must be negotiated. (Click on any image to enlarge.)

After the first intersection, we passed Mary Lake.

Then, it was time to avoid being lured toward the ACC Hut route; we find the Big Larches route more scenic.

That trail soon winds alongside an imposing talus slope, takes a sharp left, and begins a tall climb.

Joan and I like to pause several times on this ascent, not only to catch our breath: there is always a chance of spotting a marmot or a pika dashing through the rocky landscape. Sadly, none showed themselves today. We did spot an interesting rock slab, a change from the usual chunky stones.

Ripples and trails from the distant past!

The view began to open up towards Lake O'Hara and Mount Huber.

Finally, the trail turned right and became more or less level. After passing the All Souls trail we soon emerged on the shores of Schaffer Lake.

We took the route forward that would take us to the Odaray Highline sign-in kiosk. We passed by this intriguing split boulder.

The kiosk was still closed for the winter, but (spoiler alert) Parks Canada would unwrap it in the next day or two.

Joan and I then crossed over to the McArthur Highline. This trail winds its way through talus slopes and, today, occasional snow patches.

A few moments later, we spotted this marmot.

A cluster of moss campion was sending forth blooms.

The trail pitched over two tall steps, then switchbacked up to the lip of the lake basin and traversed this meadow.

Our outbound route, in green:

Joan and I found a vantage point to have lunch and view the icebound lake. We enjoyed watching the changing light on its surface, speckled with open water, white patches, and almost melted ice of varying hues.

Click on the image to enlarge.

It's easy to go down to the lakeshore, but stay on the trails! Past trespassers have beaten eroding paths that the National Park is trying to restore.

Along the shore, we met a mom and daughter, who gave us sunglasses, left behind by lodge guests, for us to turn in. Then there was a mom and son who were trying to (eventually) test the water temperature. Mom waded in deeper than the youth!

 

This signpost is our unofficial lake-gauge. The water was surprisingly low, perhaps due to the delayed spring melt.

We had heard deep patches of snow lingered on the low route, so we returned on the high route. We met Brenda and her husband in the Alpine Meadow, with whom we chatted all the way to Le Relais, a short walk from our cabin.

 

Tomorrow would be a more ambitious hike Joan and I hadn't tackled since 2011 -- Monica Lake.

Canada 2024: A Lost Day and a Snowy Lake

July 8th, 2024, began well with an excellent catch-up breakfast at the Malcolm with Bob and Valerie Knowlden, our B&B hosts for many years until they "retired." (Click on any image to enlarge.)

The pigs are Bucky and Poppy.

Eventually, it was time for Joan and me to check out, and I went down into the basement garage with our luggage. Today's goal was a hike to either Sherbrooke Lake or Paget Lookout. (They share an initial stretch of trail.) However, this time I could not get the trunk on the Nissan Versa to latch. Joan and I tried combining our strengths, but it was no use.

 

We had signed up for "roadside assistance" with Enterprise, and now phoned them, reaching the Canmore office. "No cars here," he said, "but give me a couple of hours. I'll keep you up to date." Joan and I walked around the development, inspecting the flowers, and sat on benches to watch ducks and the other tourists. We waited for 3½ hours with no word from Enterprise. We called again, but the voicemail was full. Joan reached Brandon at Enterprise's Calgary office, who said he would escalate. We received a call from the area supervisor, and stated forcefully that we needed to be in Field this evening, not tomorrow! After another while we got a call from Jake -- he has a car for us, but needs to clean it first.

 

Jake and a helper arrived with a buzzy subcompact Mazda CX-3; it was a hatchback (no trunk) and could barely fit us and our luggage, but it was a car! One item of business was documenting the numerous existing window chips to make certain we would not be billed for window damage.

We headed out five hours after our first call to Enterprise, reaching the Cathedral Mountain Lodge in time to register, unload, splash our faces, change shirts, and show up for our 6:45 dinner reservation. It was not the hiking day we had planned, but we were wrung out nonetheless!

July 9th dawned, and post breakfast at Cathedral, we drove up to the Lake O'Hara parking area after squeezing ourselves, two duffels, and two daypacks into Mozzie, as we'd dubbed the car -- Moz for short. We joined the morning lodge bus for the 11-kilometer ride up to O'Hara (private vehicles are not allowed; it's a protected fragile Alpine area.)

At the lodge we checked in, picked up our lunches, pulled out our hiking poles and binos, and began a hike. (Rooms and cabins aren't available until later in the afternoon.)

The sky was almost cloudless, and the temperatures cool; the lake is at 6630' (2020m) altitude. Spring had arrived late, and we were told some higher trails weren't yet clear of snow and ice. All Souls was closed; the Yukness and Huber Ledges warranted a caution. Recent rains had created shallow pools in spots along the Lake O'Hara shoreline.

 

Joan and I headed out for the Opabin Plateau on the scenic West Opabin trail, which began as a gentle walk in the woods.

Here the lichen and fungi were abundant.

 In the Cladoniaceae family of fungi ...

The vegetation rapidly changed as we ascended the plateau's west flank.

We kept our eyes and ears open for pikas, and spotted two marmots down along the shore of Lake Mary.

Binoculars helped us identify them!

Then we passed a group of young women from Chile, Japan, and Peru, who were working in Canmore. How lucky they were to have grabbed seats on the morning park bus (not the lodge bus); those usually disappear within hours of the seat lottery's opening.

In this image, the narrow trail threads through boulders that have fallen through the ages. Squint at the middle (click on the image to enlarge), and you'll see a blue-shirted hiker ahead of us.

Joan and I reached the level edge of the plateau and stuck to the west-hand side rather than take a side trip to the overlook right away.

Western anemones were gorgeous in the bright sunshine.

Water features abounded as we hiked up the length of the plateau.

Passing by Lake Hungabee, at the foot of the final climb to Opabin Lake.

Looking back at Hungabee, having almost reached the top. Note the pockets of snow.

The Opabin Lake panorama (altitude 7,470') was entirely different, dominated by snow and ice. The peaks that ring it block direct sunlight in the mornings and late afternoons.

The varied windblown snow was deep wherever the ground beneath was uneven. Joan and I postponed any visit to the lakeshore for a later day, and tramped over to the east trail. A few times one of my boots landed in a couple of feet of snow, and some got inside. As we descended on the east trail, the snow petered out.

Along the plateau, the series of lakes, ponds, and cascades for which it is famous were showing off in the sunlight.

On the east side, the descent to O'Hara became a series of switchbacks buried in the forest, with the tumbling stream on our left for company. Suddenly, the closed tunnel opened up on the breadth of Lake O'Hara.

Nearby a dipper hunted and preened.

This bench invited us to pause and admire the lake,

 

but the afternoon was wearing on, and we needed to unpack at our cabin and clean up before dinner.

The mountains shifted their appearance as the sun grew low.

Zooming my camera to the max, I caught this image of the Seven Veil Falls on the far side of the lake.

Tomorrow, another lake ... McArthur.

Canada 2024: Let's try that again

On Sunday, July 7, 2024, Joan and I drove to the Lougheed Parking area to tackle the Centennial Ridge trail again. Two years ago our goal had been to climb above the treeline for the spectacular views, but our effort had been cut short by rain. Now we'd try again. Although we arrived at this parking area 15 minutes earlier than for yesterday's Heart Creek hike, it was jammed, and we had to park on the side of the road leading to the parking. Well, it was a Sunday.

No place to park here ...

There are several intersections in the beginning, including those for West Wind Pass and Skogan Pass, but we followed the signs for the Centennial Trail. (Click on any image to enlarge.) The green circles note the parking area and our "decision point" on the trek.

Here's a photo of the map at the beginning of the trail. With less clutter, the circles are easier to see.

As with yesterday's hike, we soon encountered flowers. This year had seen a late spring, so July was still bountiful. Today had more varieties than yesterday because of the much greater altitude gain. Here is a red baneberry, early in its season.

For a while the path led us gently up a wide trail beside the creek that, like so many others, had flooded disastrously in 2018.

We spotted a female bufflehead duck and her two ducklings working upstream.

There's a stretch where it's just an easy walk.

It won't last long.

More flowers ... here, a blue clematis.

The uphill slog began, still on a wide horse-riding route from the past. The terrain became dryer. A few faster hikers passed us. Then, there was a peek-a-boo view across the valley towards West Wind.

Here's a red elderberry, but we're too early for the berries!

Now we peeked at the ridgeline south of Mount Pigeon.

Click on the image above, and at the left of the ridgeline, you'll see a small structure. This photo from Google Maps gives me confidence in my ID.

On we climbed, with frequent stops to catch our breath. Continued effort gave us a peek at the Bow Valley and Canmore.

And close to the ground, an Alpine forget-me-not.

Joan and I passed the spot where we'd been forced to turn around two years ago, and kept going as the old road turned into a hiking path, which narrowed as we went. Then we hit a meadow beside a seasonal creek gully.

The gully was dry.

An interesting closeup.

From here we received our best view of the day.

The path then dove into the woods again. We continued for more minutes, perturbed that we had never gained the open ground promised by the map.

That's a 2200 meter altitude line, or 7218 feet.

And now it showed us dropping down three or so contour lines before regaining the lost height, and didn't promise open ground for a while yet. The afternoon was ticking on. Joan and I agreed that it was time to turn around. We did spot more flowers on the way down, including this "Pretty Shooting Star."

 

And a calypso orchid!

Downhill had its own challenges with steepness, surfaces, and fatigue, but we returned without mishap. Thank goodness for hiking poles! Joan and I reached our car a tick before 4:00 pm, footsore but satisfied with our effort, given that we gained ~2350 feet in altitude and it was only our second day of hiking. And the flora was fabulous.

 

A final odd note before we left was that I had to push forward as well as down on the Versa's trunk lid for it to latch.