On July 30th Joan and I awoke to see a red crossbill outside our window. The unusual beak (click on the photo to enlarge) allows it to pry seeds out of the cones.
We said our goodbyes at Mount Engadine Lodge, and spotted a morning moose across the meadow. We drove south towards the Kananaskis Lakes area, and Mount Indefatigable in particular. But just a few miles down the road there was a "Ting!" -- from the TPMS (Tire Pressure Monitoring System). A tire was low.
We pulled over and inspected. Visually nothing seemed wrong, so not having a true flat, Joan and I returned to Engadine and enlisted Riley's help. He hauled out the lodge's air compressor but had difficulty finding his tire gauge. Our rental car had an owner's manual but no tire gauge. (In the past we've even had a rental car with no spare, no manual, nothing on hand when we got a flat.) Then he found a gauge and we identified the low tire: driver's side rear. After Riley topped off all the tires, I consulted the manual and reset the TPMS, and then we were on our way. Thanks, Riley!
We left our car at the parking area between the upper and lower Kananaskis Lakes. Mount Indefatigable is in the background; our intention is to hike as far as the shoulder on the right for the view, not to try for the summit on the left.
We crossed the earthen dam to the other side of Upper Kananaskis Lake.
The drums and lumber in the lower left were in the process of being collected and taken away.
The Indefatigable Trail was and is popular, but it has been offically decommissioned, including the removal of viewpoint benches. Why?
The Park is very polite about it: "We request that you consider not hiking ..." But Joan and I wanted to do this just once, having heard much about it over the years from other hikers. I had bear spray, and we were prepared to turn around if we saw or heard a bear.
The route starts as a broad, needle-strewn trail but soon narrows and climbs amongst rocky outcrops near the edge of the mountain. Because the trail is decommissioned, it is no longer maintained, and has become braided with uncertain footing in places. The first viewpoint no longer has the Wendy Elekes Memorial Bench, but the view is still great, encompassing much of both the upper and lower lakes.
The trail continued to climb, and reached a fork where the route to the peak heads left. We continued a quarter-mile on the level to the final viewpoint, where we had our lunch. The trees here have grown up to obscure parts of the view, but I took a photo looking northeast,
and one looking southeast.
As we ate our lunch we also kept our eyes on a hawk soaring on the mountain breezes.
On our way back down, we paused at a meadow not far from the top, and I took another panoramic photo.
Clouds are gathering to take a vote on an afternoon thunderstorm.
Zooming in, the camera captured the parking area where we started.
Just a few steps beyond the meadow we encountered a blue grouse, hiding in the shade under a tree. His strategy was to hold absolutely still.
He looked big to us, bigger than the ruffed grouse we'd seen in the past. It turns out that the blue (lately subdivided into dusky vs. sooty) is the second largest grouse in North America, after the sage grouse.
Joan and I continued our descent, passing a few more people headed up. There were scattered drops of rain as we reached our car, but the thunderstorm convened at a different location.
We checked in at the Delta Lodge Kananaskis, now the Kananaskis Mountain Lodge, where they offered us an upgrade to an air-conditioned room with continental breakfast for a modest-enough fee that we accepted it.
Joan and I plan to tackle Wasootch Ridge tomorrow.
The next day, August 30th, opened with the morning sun illuminating the clouds and painting bands of pink and gold on the mountains.
Outside our window was a male red crossbill, a bird Joan and I rarely see in Ohio, although it is supposed to winter here.
Today our destination was Rummel Lake, named after Baroness Elizabeth "Lizzie" Rummel. We had visited this lake only once before, in 2004, in an intermittent drizzle.
First we checked out the nearby bridge on the Mount Shark road, looking at flood damage and repairs.
The first stretch of the Rummel Lake trail, which is just opposite the lodge, is boring. Old logging roads wind and switchback through the forest, climbing without offering any vistas. Gradually they narrow and become more of a trail.
Occasionally some deadfall offers a tantalizing but frustrating peek across the valley. You must go further, and then the trail finally becomes an honest walk in the woods.
After about an hour and a half into the hike we heard some noises. A male spruce grouse, in full display, caught up to us on the trail.
He was fearless. Well, I'm not a mind-reader nor a grouse-whisperer, but he acted fearless. Or was it stupid? He came up to us and walked on by, clucking. Look at those eyebrows!
As you might suspect, he was defending and supervising his harem of five or six spruce grouse hens.
We stood transfixed, frequently using our binoculars. The group slowly worked its way through the woods, parallel to the trail, foraging. Eventually we had to tear ourselves away and continue on.
There are two routes for the final approach to the lake, the "snowshoe" route, not scenic but free of avalanche danger, and the summer route (the original). We went up on the summer route, which included some beating through willow thickets and cairn spotting to make our way along one or two rerouted sections of trail. The summer route, in general, hews closely to the creek; to follow it confidently we highly recommend Gillean Daffern's book, Kananaskis Country Trail Guide, Volume 1.
Arriving at Rummel Lake, I walked close to the shore and took its portrait.
To continue on to Rummel Pass follow the trail along the left (north) side of the lake, which eventually cuts into the trees and after a brief climb takes you to the approach to the pass. The trees thin out and then disappear as you keep going.
It being late summer, the tarns had dried out.
This spot was as far as we went. Looking back, you can see why we decided it was time to drop back down.
The peaks on the far side of the valley were disappearing into blue-grey mist. We opened our day packs and pulled out our rain jackets, which were almost ripped from our hands by the strong wind out here in the open.
It didn't start to rain until we reached the lake, where the wind was much gentler. We chose the broad, easier, and quicker "winter" route, accompanied by varying degrees of precipitation. Sometimes there was a steady shower, sometimes it almost stopped, but in the end it rained during the entire long slog back down to the lodge. By the time we finished with the logging road and its unvarying surface our feet were aching.
But we were back in time for afternoon tea and cleanup before dinner. Tomorrow we would move on, so Rummel Pass must wait for another year, when our desire to see the pass overcomes our aversion to the logging road.
