It was the last day of July, and Joan and I were on our way to Mistaya Lodge, our first visit to this family-run hiking and skiing resort. We arrived early in the morning at the Alpine Helicopters facility in Golden, checked in, and our baggage and our selves were weighed. Renee and Edith, who we had seen several times at Lake O'Hara, arrived on an incoming helicopter ferrying passengers back from Purcell Mountain Lodge. After a brief reunion with the Swiss couple, Joan and I queued up at our helicopter.
As you can see, it was a sunny day, and the sun-lit side of the chopper quickly became hot. But the views were great.
Here is a video, in three parts, of the helicopter activity that day: from inside the aircraft as we take off, from outside watching it land, and watching it take off.
At the lodge we had another reunion, with Wood and Chantal, who we had met a few years ago at Talus Lodge. Then our first activity was taking our luggage to our room.
The view from the window looked south to "the lake."
Then it was time to fix our packed lunches and head out on a guided hike to Boomerang Glacier. In this screenshot from Google Maps, Mistaya Lodge is the red roof circled in yellow (click to enlarge), and the glacier is at the lower left; we're heading towards the face noted in red. Its curved shape gave it the name "Boomerang."
First we walked down to the braided creek below the lodge, where a mini-hydro electric generator is located.
Then it was up the first moraine, skirting the right edge of the small lake circled in blue.
We continued to climb closer to the faces of the peaks. This one displays a huge slab of fossilized stromatolites, mounds created from mineral grains glued together by cyanobacteria in shallow water. The tectonic forces that created these mountains have forced the ancient seabed (as much as 3.5 billion years old) almost vertical.
From this same location, a rest stop, I took a panoramic photo to the east.
Just a few minutes after starting up again, we encountered a mama ptarmigan,
accompanied by three chicks.
Up and up we went, generally bearing north (this photo looks south).
Then we reached the front of the glacier,
and dropped our packs.
The photography geeks marched up to the glacier's foot to take pictures, despite warnings from our guide, Sandra, that ice melting in the July sun might let loose a rock at any time. I used a zoom to take this photo; I suppose if the shutterbugs weren't there for too long, the risk was low.
Here several of us gather around Sandra for a talk, perhaps about the geology of the area.
Far below us, part of the trail home passes through a grassy area.
A narrow ridge gave Sandra an opportunity to offer a photo-op to any of the participants. We took her up on it.
We were well and truly tired by the time we returned the lodge, and an excellent supper was appreciated by all. This final photo takes in the view of the lake by the lodge in the early evening light.
Tomorrow Joan and I must decide whether to take the all-day guided hike to West Mistaya Peak, at 9500 feet, or an easier alternative.
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.
