Today (August 7th) we decided to tackle King Creek Ridge, a "strenuous climb on trail to a fantastic viewpoint," as Gillean Daffern describes it. It gains 731 meters (2400') in 3.5 km (2.2 miles), and the high point is at 2423 meters (7950'). Perhaps, it being late in our visit, Joan and I would be in good enough shape to conquer it. With the relevant pages from Gillean's Kananaskis Trail Guide in hand, we set out.
This image is taken from the on-line version of the maps in her books, zoomed in to the King Creek Ridge.
The parking area is on the south side of King Creek, but the trail begins on the north side. The brief trot along Highway 40 gave us a view of the gravel and rock swept down King Creek in the June 2013 floods.
This photo looks back to the parking area from the north side.
The trail passed through woods, and bore left where an older, steeper initial trail segment joined in. After climbing gently to the north for a brief while,
the route began to switchback up the ridge with, to borrow again from Gillean, "steep little zigs with stones underfoot." Game trails crossed our path now and then, but the correct choice was always the uphill one. Also, water runoffs and "shortcuts" created by adventurous hikers caused us to pause several times, pondering which way to choose. And catch our breath. This photo is of one of the less scrabbly stretches. Although foot placement is important going up, it's more treacherous going down. Joan and I were glad for our trekking poles in both directions.
We reached the ridgeline, drenched in sweat, and turned north. The trail was still rising, but less abruptly, and began to pass through thicker and thinner sections of forest. The air up here must be very clean; there were gorgeous rafts of lichen.
A closeup of one bunch.
A stone arrow to avoid confusion.
This is about the time Joan and I decided that Ben needed a sit-down and a snack. The trail ahead looked dauntingly exposed, but it was no worse than many others we've countered in the Canadian Rockies, so I knew that my energy level was the problem, not the route.
The top of the ridge grew narrower and narrower as we proceeded.
There was one short section where there the best route was a narrow stone ledge. I didn't stop to get out my camera!
Then we reached the top. In this photo, I'm standing at the summit cairn while Joan has walked over to a promontory overlooking the valley.
Here's the panoramic view, to the west and up and down the Kananaskis Valley.
A closer look at the Kananaskis Lakes and Elk Pass, yesterday's hike.
A wide view to the north and east, with our trail in the lower right corner. The ongoing trail mid-left plummets down to King Creek, with a spur to a second top.
I went over to the viewpoint, overcoming a mild sense of discomfort. This picture looks back to Joan at the summit cairn.
I can see the parking area from here ... the small road heading left to the base of the ridge.
Here's the view to the south, with Highway 40 on the right and King Creek on the left. This "hidden valley" of King Creek is favored by deer and grizzly bears.
There's an abundance of folded geological strata in these mountains. This photo looks north.
After drinking in the views, it was time for us to gingerly head back down. The map at the beginning of this post shows a loop, but the loop drops precipitously off the ridge into the King Creek Valley, the trail occasionally disappears, and finishes with a slot canyon followed by multiple crossings of the creek. It's not recommended except for the bold. Joan and I backtracked instead. As usual, the steep downhill was much dicier than the steep uphill, especially with small loose stones underfoot.
At one point a group of mountain sheep dashed right to left in front of us along one of the game trails. They were too fast for me to whip out my camera and turn it on.
This photo shows a brief gentle bench before the plunge continued. Note the flag on the tree; it's useful especially if the ground is covered with snow.
Some of the flowers were still out, including these purple asters.
Twenty minutes later I started hearing an occasional odd noise. I stopped to look about, and just a few feet away from me, above the trail almost at eye level, was a very young blue grouse.
The peeping sound was the mother, largely hidden by the bushes, giving the baby reassurance and admonishing it to stay still.
I called softly to Joan, who was ahead of me. She gladly came uphill again to visit the grouse.
And then mountain sheep rumbled by, higher up. Was it the same group we saw earlier? I don't know.
Soon after we heard a gunshot. Was it some crazy American down in the campground? Then there was another shot. After a few moments there was an oscillating whistle, a fireworks sound. Joan and I guessed that we were hearing bear deterrence; a grizzly or perhaps a black bear had come too close to the Kananaskis Lakes campground or other human-occupied area. The wardens were driving it off.
We emerged at the trailhead without having taken a tumble. Who did we see in front of us, along Highway 40?
They trotted off to the north, but not before I captured this mother and child image.
Joan and I returned to the parking lot on the south side of the creek, pleased with our accomplishments, both climbing and descending, and our sightings today.
After a well-deserved dinner back at the Delta Kananaskis Lodge, we took a stroll on their perimeter trail. The evening light was superb.
We had done OK today. It gave us confidence to tackle Wasootch Ridge tomorrow, our last strenuous hike of this visit.
Today, August 5th, was our day to tackle Windtower. Last year we'd run out of time before reaching the top, but this year the staff at Mount Engadine Lodge packed our lunches while we ate breakfast, and we were able to hit the road earlier.
The first section of the journey is the West Wind Pass trail.
There are two trails close together here, the good one that appears on the map and an old, nastier one that nobody recommends. As Joan and I approached the area of the trail head, we saw several parked vehicles, decided that they must mark the proper starting point, and we set off. At first the trail seemed merely odd, not quite matching our memories, but then we realized we'd started up the wrong trail, one likely to tire us out and slow us down. The thought of returning all the way to the trail head was also distasteful. Fortunately, we'd passed some work on the Trans Canada Trail; we ought to be able use it to cross over to the genuine West Wind Pass trail.
And we did. Perhaps the trucks were from trail builders.
The real trail climbs follows along and above Spurling Creek, so there were viewpoints along the way as we climbed through the forest.
We reached the pass but didn't linger long,
and started the traverse. Windtower's north face is a sheer drop, but by heading south for a while, an easier climb from the southwest can be reached. The following image was taken from another Windtower account. It's a GPS track showing the writer's outbound traverse (the lower blue line, clinging to the treeline) and return traverse, higher up.
The official status of the trail halts at West Wind Pass. From there, decades of hikers have created a multiplicity of starting options for the traverse (click on the photo to enlarge).
Joan and I started on one of the "middle" tracks. There are a series of short rock faces to negotiate, and we soon encountered a blue grouse atop one of them.
The views continued to open up, but clouds building just to the north worried us. The higher we would go, the more exposed we would be.
Here's a look back to West Wind Pass, in the lower right, tucked between our mountain and the one to the north.
Joan and I continued to eye the cloud buildup. We've hiked in the rain before, but the slopes here are challenging and, did I say, exposed? Here's a photo taken later, from a lakeside rest area, that shows the final section of trail. It's shale scree, steep and scrabbly in places, and utterly without shelter. The top is 8,842' altitude.
We decided to play it wise, and returned to the pass. Windtower would need to wait for next year. On reaching the pass we lunched, and discovered that, to make up for omitting the turkey in one sandwich yesterday, the lodge had put double turkey in our sandwiches today. Then we chatted with Wag, a 14-year-old cocker spaniel, and his master, who carries Wag when the dog tires. This is the view looking east from the pass.
Wag and his master started their return, and a few minutes later we stood to begin ours. However, a group of mountain sheep had reached the north side of the pass, and Joan and I were blocking their path to the south side.
We walked far enough to give the sheep room, but be able to still see them. They trotted across the width of the pass, with the biggest giving it a go first.
More followed.
The youngster came last.
As we descended there was still moisture from last night's rain on some of the foliage.
We arrived back at the trailhead -- the correct trailhead -- and saw these signs:
Don't forget the sheep:
Looking back, we could see clouds flirting with the Windtower. What a difference between the northern and southern faces!
Having ended our expedition early, Joan and I took the opportunity to explore the west side of Spray Lake. It's mostly camping sites, but offers a good view across the lake to the mountains we'd been in.
The clouds still can't make up their mind whether to rain or not.
We parked the car at the end of the road and walked down to the lakeshore. The beach of stones was wide, and we poked around a bit.
We drove back to the lodge, beating rain showers that came through about 5pm. Dinner was excellent, as usual.
And Mr. Moose visited again in the evening. The moose slurp up the muddy water for the minerals in it; someone suggested selenium. I couldn't ask, because I don't speak Moose.
Tomorrow we're off to Delta Lodge Kananaskis, on the other side of the mountain range we've been clambering on for the last two days.
