CR2013: Mount Yamnuska

Less than three weeks after returning from our Arctic journey, Joan and I embarked on our annual hiking trip to the Canadian Rockies. This was the year of the huge floods in late June, so Joan and I were anticipating lots of changes, especially in the Canmore and Kananaskis areas.

After flying into Calgary, on August 27th, we rented a car and made a beeline for Marv's Classic Soda Shop in the small town of Black Diamond. We savored and consumed chocolate malts, and then drove to the north end of the Kananaskis valley. The southern approach, more natural from Black Diamond, was closed because of flood damage, two months after the deluge. We then drove down Highway 40 to the Barrier Lake Visitor Center, where we bought bear spray and looked at astonishing photos of flood damage in the area, considered a 500-year event. I believe it.

Our first two nights were spent in Canmore at Canadian Artisans Bed and Breakfast. Here our two travel pigs for this trip, Pigtail and Danny, are introduced to the house bear at Canadian Artisans.

The next day we began our hiking with a repeat visit to Mount Yamnuska, officially named Mount Laurie but known by all through the indigenous Stoney name, which means "wall of stone." We had hiked here once before several years ago, but this time we would go further. The trail begins flat but soon has several short ups and downs as it approaches the foot of the mountain.

Then the trail climbs steadily, at first through groves of aspen.

The trail splits into a hiking route and a route for wannabe mountain goats.

Partway up there is an open, grassy zone and a ledge with the first viewpoint of the hike.

We paused to admire the view without sitting down on the rocks. Of course we had our binoculars with us.

Joan and I ate lunch at the same spot we had in our earlier visit. The trees have thinned out and a rocky face provides a viewpoint and places to sit, or at least lean, and enjoy your sandwich.

We had gone no further on our earlier visit. To continue, you must negotiate the slot you see in the right of the above photo. We checked it out and, at first, decided to turn around, but when we saw others coming back down and others going on, we decided we could do it, particularly if I went first and gave Joan a hand with a tall, slick step. Here is somebody coming back down the slot.

Beyond the slot the trail resumes on a scree-covered surface, and after a short distance you have a choice. By climbing left instead of right, you can reach a viewpoint on a ridgeline without climbing all the way to the mountain's top. If you wish to summit, continue to the right instead. On the recommendation of other hikers Joan and I decided to go to the ridge, and although it's less demanding than the summit, the view from this ridge is wonderful in its own right. And after all, this was our first day out!

Here is one overlapping photo taken next to the knife's-edge side of the ridge.

The hill at the left, looking so innocent, was part of our route up. Zooming in you can see several of the switchbacks.

This video provides a better look at the whole scene.



The wind up here must be fierce, as evidenced by this hardy tree. Today's weather is benign.

Then it was time to go back the way we came, or so we thought. We walked along the ridge for a while, thus not going back the way we came. Then it was time to descend, and there were multiple unofficial tracks to choose among. We worked our way down, and down, and then Joan realized that we were further downhill than the slot. Fortunately it was a only short climb back up to the wide trail, and very soon the other side of the slot appeared.

On the far side of the slot we caught up with a foursome of twenty-somethings. We fell in behind them, and somehow our brains went dormant. The four hikers in the lead took a very steep turn to the right, which, had we been thinking, we knew was much too soon, that we had a way yet to walk through the trees before we would reach the switchbacks in the zoom-in photo.

But we followed them. The route got steeper and became apparent that this was not a trail, but a plunge down an erosion course. Should we try to go back up and regain the trail? I thought not, that it would be too difficult and time-consuming. Strike two.

Our descent was composed of small steps, dislodging dirt and small stones, grabbing at slender trees, and would have been almost impossible, unless sitting down, without our two hiking poles. As it was we had to pause several times to rest our legs, gather our wits and bolster our morale, and plot the next leg of the route. The four in front of us were, every so often, breaking into two groups of two and then converging again. Eventually we lost sight of them.

Finally we reached a gentler slope and vegetation, and then a trail. Not the trail we had come up, but a genuine trail was welcome. At one point we passed an old stone ring that had in living memory contained a fire. The trail began to work up and down and around small bumps and dips in the land.

Two or three times we passed what I'll call "squirrel middens." Squirrels sit at or above these favored spots and strip pine cones (I use the term "pine" in a generic sense, for conifers) with their incisors before gobbling the seeds within. This midden is several feet across, and near the top there is a hoard of cones (click to enlarge).

We finally, and with great relief, rejoined the main trail. My thought was that we should turn right, but another pair of hikers was approaching, so I asked which way to return to the parking area. They must have questioned my sobriety, but confirmed that right was correct.

Lesson #1: Remember where you've already been.

Lesson #2: Don't blindly follow others, but think.

Lesson #3: Don't be afraid to turn back and regain the path.

P.S. The foursome made it safely to the parking area too.

Arctic Journey: Iqaluit, Ottawa, and Home

After three weeks and a few days aboard the Explorer, beginning in Reykjavík, it was time to leave. The ship had anchored well off from Iqaluit, the capital of the Canadian province of Nunavut; from Google Earth you can see that the bottom shelves and narrows rapidly.

My adrenaline level zoomed when I saw our luggage zooming for shore at full speed, piled high on zodiacs. Fortunately the weather was benign today, and everything and everyone made it to dry land.

We had some time in Iqaluit before our charter flight to Ottawa. The Unikkaarvik Visitor has many displays of Arctic life and artifacts; this polar bear is in a diorama.

These walrus carvings are made of whalebone.

A walrus.

The dancing polar bear sports this explanatory legend.

The bear himself was difficult to photograph because of the multiple reflections bouncing around his display box. But I had to include this anyway.

And I love seeing the world-view encapsulated in this Inuit seasonal calendar (click to enlarge).

The raven came first.

Joan and I then visited the Nunatta Sunakkutaangit Museum next door, but we were running out of time. Joan purchased a pair of earrings, beluga whales carved out of musk ox horn, at the museum gift shop.

The bus was preparing to leave for the airport, so we were fortunate that the attendant allowed us to throw cash on the counter and run.

At the airport, the guests identified their luggage outside the bus and made certain that all their luggage was there. Then it was time to amuse ourselves in the small airport, waiting for the charter flight of arriving guests to land, and be serviced and refueled before we could board for Ottawa. We would fly over the entire length of Quebec from north to south:

Ottawa, whose location was vague to us before this trip, straddles on the border between Ontario and Quebec.

Our plane taxied to the charter corner of the Ottawa airport, where we boarded buses to take us to our hotel, the Fairmont Chateau Laurier. This elegant limestone structure, opened in 1912, is located in the center of downtown, close to the National Gallery, riverside paths, the Canadian History Museum, the Library of Parliament, and the Parliament Building. After dinner, Joan and I took an extended stroll exploring a section of the riverfront, past the Peace Monument and around the Parliament. A crowd was gathering for a light-and-sound show to be projected onto the front of Parliament, but it wasn't going to start until later, and Joan and I needed to be up early the next day for our flight to Toronto and then home. We were impressed by Ottawa, even though we saw very little of it, and decided it would be a worthwhile destination in the future.

In the morning the bus to take the early round of guests to the airport became lost on its way to the hotel, but we were bundled into taxis and made it to the airport in good time. The transfer in Toronto to our Columbus flight was interesting; the Ottawa-Toronto leg was a domestic Canadian flight, so we passed through U.S. customs, passport control, and security in Toronto. The luggage transfer was absolutely painless: picking up and then dropping off the luggage again wasn't necessary. There was a large waiting hall in front of the U.S. security lines, with large monitors. You simply waited for your name to appear on the monitor, and when it did you did you were free to enter the line. We never had to touch our luggage in Toronto. Wonderful!

We arrived back in Columbus on time, after three and a half weeks of exploration. The Arctic Journey had been stunning in its beauty, full of history, and packed with wildlife. Now being back home was wonderful too.

Arctic Journey: Butterfly Bay, Monumental Island, Lower Savage Islands

Butterfly Bay
August 9th began with a sunny visit to Butterfly Bay, on the Hall Peninsula of Baffin Island.

Soon after landing I took this photo, which covers only a small portion of the view. Numerous small streams, originating in the melting snow, cross a rocky plain.

After our group had worked its way forward across streams and rocky humps, this was the view looking back towards the ship.

As we tramped further away, the ship grew smaller, and the stone hillocks grew taller.

We reached a high point and gazed around.

In this video from the top, you'll see that arctic bugs were out today. These didn't bite but they could end up in your ears, eyes, or nose. I wore a net over my hat.

Just outside the bay, there were plenty of icebergs to admire.

We returned to the shore, and both staff and guests worked to clear the beach of several sacks' worth of man-made debris, including plastic shards, plastic fishing floats, plastic fishing nets, and such.

On our return to the ship I took this photo of a map showing our course from the start of this second leg of our journey at Kangerlussuaq to here, at Butterfly Bay (click to enlarge).

Monumental Island
Then the Explorer sailed for Monumental Island, named indirectly for Sir John Franklin, leader of a famous doomed 1845 expedition. Just north is Lady Franklin Island, named for Sir John's wife, Jane Griffin, who sponsored seven expeditions to find her husband, her husband's remains, or, in the final 1875 expedition, any documentation that may have been left behind.

The Explorer was here particularly because walrus sometimes haul out in the area. Joan and I were in the second shift of zodiac tours around Monumental Island -- there are sufficient zodiacs to take half of a full ship. The island was still well illuminated when the first shift set out.

Mist was settling over the island when we set out.

This photo looks back at the ship, and it's rapidly disappearing.

The first shift had spotted a polar bear, a notion substantiated by photographs, but at the reported position, he had either moved on or was cloaked by mist:

Our zodiac became the unofficial leader of a flotilla.

As we continued the circumnavigation we reached a sunnier spot with an intriguing channel.

We were still being followed.

When we emerged from the channel the Explorer was playing peek-a-boo with us.

By now we had at least four following zodiacs, if you assume that each person standing up is a zodiac driver.

We nosed into a small cleft in the rock face, and each of us had a chance to touch Monumental Island.

This zodiac found its own spot to investigate.

The water was exquisitely clear, and sometimes, in this narrow channel, shallow.

There were no walrus, but it was still an enjoyable outing. As we waited our turn to reboard the Explorer, we circled this fabulous iceberg. Chunks have broken off this face.

The far side is entirely different, and has two distinct components; clearly this berg has flipped its orientation several times.

Our return to the Explorer was followed by a late dinner.

Lower Savage Islands
The Lower Savage Islands, just off the southeastern tip of Baffin Island, were our first destination the next day, August 10th.

In the morning we had zodiac cruises around the island in a cold drizzle. Dressed properly, with warm layers covered by waterproof layers, I found that an hour's ride was in the zone in-between "comfortable" and "bearable." I didn't, however, try to sneak aboard a zodiac for a repeat ride. Due to the rain and wind I didn't take any photos. My point-and-shoot, capable as it is, doesn't have a protective lens hood, while my fingers are the body part that suffers most from the cold. And the trigger button is difficult to press completely with a gloved hand.

The first zodiac saw a polar bear, but we didn't. For me, the geology of the island was its main attraction. To quote from Tom Ritchie's Daily Expedition Report,

The islands appear to be either granitic or gneissitic in nature. They may actually be a combination of both, meaning some areas are simply exposed intrusive igneous material, i.e. granite, and other areas are exposed metamorphosed material, perhaps granite that has been changed into gneiss through the effects of intense heat and pressure. There is some obvious banding or foliation typical of metamorphism, but there is also much evidence of exfoliation, a process by which relatively thin layers of rock peel off from granite surfaces that occur from pressure release when the overlying burden is eroded away and the surface expands. 

Hydrothermal vents must have been active here in the distant past, judging by the impressive coatings of rust and sulfur compounds that seem to have emanated from many of the cracks. The geology has also been affected by glacial carving, judging from the smooth, rounded surfaces in the lower areas. Jagged, angular rocks in the upper regions give evidence of having been severely fractured and broken up by freeze-thaw effects.

On returning to the ship, I took this picture of the bridge.

On the bridge a whiteboard keeps a count of polar bear spottings, breaking them down by whether the initial spotter was ship's crew, staff, or passenger. All spottings, however, must be confirmed by a passenger. Polar bear cubs are a special subcategory.

In the afternoon the Explorer turned into Frobisher Bay, heading towards Iqaluit, where we would disembark tomorrow. It was time to pack, but once that was done, Joan and I were back on the bridge. Occasional glaciers drooped down the mountainous edges of the bay.

As if to bid us goodbye, a pod of bowhead whales appeared.

Then it was time to dress for the Captain's Farewell Cocktail Party, and dinner.