CR2015: A Try for Windtower

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.

CR-2010: Talus Lodge, 2nd half

Our first destination was a stromatolite, which had fallen from the heights above the cirque where the lodge sits. This stone is not a product of vulcanism or normal sedimentation, but of cyanobacteria. To quote,

... produced by the activity of ancient cyanobacteria. The layers were produced as calcium carbonate precipitated over the growing mat of bacterial filaments; photosynthesis in the bacteria depleted carbon dioxide in the surrounding water, initiating the precipitation. The minerals, along with grains of sediment precipitating from the water, were then trapped within the sticky layer of mucilage that surrounds the bacterial colonies, which then continued to grow upwards through the sediment to form a new layer. As this process occured over and over again, the layers of sediment were created. This process still occurs today; Shark Bay in western Australia is well known for the stromatolite "turfs" rising along its beaches.

Our chunk of stromatolite had one side that showed the bumps and humps of the growing mounds ...

and another that revealed the successive layers in cross section.

Chris is eager to discover the stratum in the peaks above that contains the stromatolites; it will require mountaineering skills to get up there. We all photographed this imprint of bacteria that lived billions of years ago. Given that it's difficult to grasp the meaning of fossils that are 500 million years old, what can we make of one four to six times older than that?

Our next stop was an ancient mudflat, where the irregular polygons of baked mud had been preserved in stone (click on the image to expand it).

A rampart of brown blocks marked the highest altitude of this hike. The weather of the hour was light snow.

Chris decided to take us lower, into the greenery and then to one of many spectacular viewpoints. Being a little lower, and sheltered from the wind, fosters a linear paradise.

Given half a chance, flowers were thriving in the alpine environment.

As we drew closer to our lunch stop, our troop explored a rocky platform. In the valley below you can see a logging road and several clear cuts.

Do you recall that our first afternoon's walk was down to a bluff where water falls off the mountain? Looking back, here it is!

Here is more of a zoom-in. Can you tell that I'm fond of my zoom?

Chris is enthralled with the weather-formed trees on this prospect. "That would make a great photo!" "Look at this one!" My sample ...

Here is a picture of Chris and some of his larches.

On our walk back to the lodge we passed a small natural bridge through which one of the bluff spills flowed, and a waterfall. Approaching the lodge Joan and I split off to walk around one of the lakes in the cirque, extending the hike a wee bit. (Chris lent me his bear spray. We didn't need it.)

Soon on the shores of the lake I spotted an odd rock.

What in the world was that bull's-eye? Up close it appeared to be gray stone a millimeter or two lower than the surrounding paler rock. It's in the neighborhood of 1½ feet in diameter.

At dinner that night Chris was very interested in this object. I'm sure he hopes his geologist buddies can shed some light on it.

The view at breakfast the next day opened up. The well-known Mount Assiniboine, 11,870', was visible to the north (in the center of the picture).

It's clearer in zoom.

Today's hike would take us to the upper cirque at White Man Mountain and to an even more breathtaking viewpoint. First, however, Chris took us down a draw, almost a small valley, in the crease between the Ptarmigan Plateau and White Man Mountain. Here we had two ornithological encounters, a pair of winter wrens (no photos) and this American Dipper, which specializes in plucking bugs and larvae out of the running stream.

Then, having gone down for a while, it was time to go up. Chris led us up a steep, very green, and damp slope, and as always we trusted that he knew where he was going -- if I haven't stated it already, there are no trails at Talus. The footing and incline reminded me of taking the Tryst Lake route up to Tent Ridge, not far away in Kananaskis. Nothing compares to striking out uphill for raising your body temperature; jackets and gloves were put away as we warmed up. After emerging from the densely forested zone, and nearing the treeline, we had lunch in a spot where a cluster of the remaining trees sheltered us (somewhat) from the breeze. After I stopped sweating the jackets and gloves came back on. This picture is looking back towards the Ptarmigan Plateau from our dining area.

Chris surveyed his domain as he relaxed with lunch.

Another half hour of easy walking took us to the prospect Chris had promised, and it well rewarded our day's efforts. This panorama photo looks back towards the lodge, and shows a lake just left of center at the foot of the far peaks. The lodge, invisible, is not far to the left of that. Low in the left, visible through a notch in our perch, is part of the green valley where we had earlier spotted the wrens and dipper.

Our return route passed by the upper cirque lake, so in two days we had bagged both lakes at the foot of White Man Mountain.

Another protected draw had handsome flowers.

Then it was back to the lodge for showers, dinner, and thoughts of the next day, when the helicopter would carry us back away.

Here's the helicopter getting loaded with stuff to take out.

The chopper logistics were intricate:

• A family group of 12 gets their safety briefing at the helipad in Canmore.
• Six board the helicopter, and six drive to the closer helipad at Mt. Shark.
• The helicopter arrives at Talus Lodge and disgorges the first six passengers, and loads the departing cook and the lodge trash.
• The chopper flies down to the foot of the mountain, at the head of the logging road, where the previous cook and the trash get off, and the new cook and supplies board.
• Chopper returns to Talus Lodge and is unloaded.
• Chopper goes to Mt. Shark to pick up the other six members of the new group.
• Chopper turns to Talus Lodge, offloads the final six, and we returning five board for our trip back to Canmore.

Joan called shotgun, never having ridden that position before. That's her blue rain jacket on the left.

I should have started this clip several seconds earlier, but you see how quickly we leave the lodge and cirque behind.

The views from the helicopter were fascinating; here's a look at the Spray Lakes.

And another look. The brown trees at the upper left have been attacked by the mountain pine beetle, which is kept in check by cold winters combined with temperature fluctuations. Authorities have also been doing controlled burns and early harvesting to limit the spread of the beetle.

Our fellow lodger Margaret happily drinks in the view.

To wrap up our journey to Talus Lodge, here's a two-minute video of our final approach and landing back in Canmore.


We greatly enjoyed our visit to Talus Lodge. When our schedule permits a July visit we intend to return, with an eye for the wildflowers.