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The Canadian Rockies ranks as my most "high" hiking trip ever for more reasons than one, and it is not just the sheer exhilaration of treading on high alpine lands I am referring to. Breathtaking glaciers, ice-capped mountain
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vistas, unusual gorges, beautiful canyons and the mysterious aura of glowing jade-coloured lakes aside, it was the first place that I experienced falling snow - or more aptly, the magical sight of crystals falling out of the sky - an unforgettable
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wondrous feeling that is ever so special and precious to one, who hails from a tropical country that is the sunny island of Singapore...
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My arrival at the Rockies was very early in the morning - 2am to be precise - that is, after an exhausting 17-hour flight from Singapore to Vancouver and then catching a 14-hour Greyhound ride straight to Jasper. With the youth hostel already closed, my first night, or rather morning, was spent in a delightful little B&B with gnome figurines in its garden.
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When light came, I was pleasantly charmed by the town's quaintness, its pretty railway station and the rows of lovely cottages, backed by snow mountains
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peeking enchantingly through the shifting fog. The sight perked me up immediately for what was to be a wonderful stay in Jasper National Park - the largest and wildest national park of the Canadian Rockies established in 1907.
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My first foray was to head for the famous Maligne Lake area. Dubbed the "Sore Foot Lake" by railroad surveyor, Henry MacLeod, whose 1875 quest for a transcontinental railway route was stopped short
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when he found the valley blocked at its eastern end, the lake was to remain unexplored to non-natives until a 1908 expedition led by a spirited young lady named Mary Schaffer from Pennsylvania.
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Although the weather was gloomy, I could see why this is considered one of the most picturesque spots in the Rockies. Anchored by a bright red historic
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boathouse built in 1929, the largest and deepest lake in the Park extends for a further scenic 22-km stretch flanked by panoramic peaks on either side.
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Plenty of activities are available here - from hiking, fishing, canoeing, whitewater rafting, horse-riding to the obligatory boat cruise to Spirit Island. Cliché photo-snapping notwithstanding, there is no denying the haunting beauty of Spirit Island, with its oft-pictured view of the islet of small pines standing amidst shimmering cyan waters and surrounded by snow-capped ranges.
I once read that the best way to get rid of jet lag was to exercise, so off I went after the cruise - wobbly legs and all - for the nearby Opal Hills trek. Indeed, Maligne Lake was created when a landslide of these hills released almost 500 million cubic metres of sediment into the valley causing the water to rise and form the lake.
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Whether the hike did cure the jet lag I wasn't sure, but it was certainly physically exhausting, being uphill almost all the way. Once through the steep pine forest part, the trail became an open meadows area with cone-shaped dizzying slopes around, giving me a top-of-the-world feeling. I turned back soon after though, without seeing the "promised" lake views in the hike
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description, it being enough exercise for a first day. Besides, the trail was quiet and there were those worrying grizzly bear warning signs around... The Park is, after all, a wildlife area which
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counts dwellers like bears, elks, deer, moose, mountain sheep, mountain goats, coyotes, and even wolves and mountain lions!
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After "migrating" to the youth hostel at the base of Whistlers Mountain, I
woke up refreshed early the next morning ready to conquer its summit. Just kidding. Instead of climbing, there is a more leisurely way to go up - that
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is, being transported up 2,500 metres by the Jasper Tramway in a mere seven minutes. Cool. Especially when the dawn mist had yet to clear and we transcended above the clouds for spectacular
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views of the mountain ranges as well as the surrounding area below. And yes, it snowed last night!
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The whole summit was shrouded in blinding white. Wow. I would have screamed in delight if not for the fact that I was freezing and barely able to keep my teeth from chattering. After a visit to the cafeteria for a warm-up with the help of a steaming cup of hot chocolate, I was "better equipped" and lasted longer outside.
As the trails were all buried, I could only follow sets of footprints up slowly. Visibility was poor and the terminal soon disappeared from view. Despite the frost, I was delirious with euphoria at the occasional tantalizing previews revealed by the moving cloud curtains, of vanilla ice-cream peaks against a sky of layered blue. When I eventually turned back and took the tramway down, after queuing with the hordes of tourists who had by then ascended the mountain, it was one chilled but happy lady ambling back to the hostel.
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With such an inspiring start, I was raring to go for a hike in the afternoon, this time from the town to Pyramid Lake. However, it turned out to be one long walk, partly because of a companion I
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had met at the hostel and partly because of the confusing trail markings which got us walking in circles in the Douglas fir forest. There were no warning signs of the furry creature in the area. Unfortunately, my fellow hiker was one overzealous bear-paranoid person. If there were indeed any animals in the vicinity, they would have cleared out for a mile due to the frequent blowing of her shrill whistle! Every moving twig or even heap of dung looked suspicious and by the time we found the lake, I was as jumpy as her and very well-appraised of all the dangers and precautions concerning black bears and grizzlies. Sigh, and I had hoped to see one...
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Okay, it was not all that bad. There were some wonderful views of the Athabasca River Valley along the way with open grassy hills. And we did spot an elk in the forest (must have been a deaf one). When we reached the lake, two cute guys in a car gave us a lift back to town. And yes, I did like Helen. Bear hysteria apart, she was a fun chatty girl and good company on other topics. In fact, it was sad to say goodbye when she headed back to Vancouver, while I, to the Columbia Icefields.
Ah, the beauty of the Icefields Parkway - the glorious 230 km sojourn from Jasper National Park to Banff National Park in the south - is simply indescribable. One has to experience it first-hand to understand the involuntary utterances of "oohs" and "aahs" by privileged visitors like myself. Departing from the town of Jasper in a coach tour that was to take me to Lake Louise, I was unprepared, despite having read the glowing literature on the famous mountain highway, for the unsurpassed visual feast that was to be unveiled.
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After passing through the forested valley bottom of the Athabasca River, the first stop was for a view of the Athabasca Falls. And they were spectacular - with the glacial waters gushing down powerfully in a whirl of green-tinged white, which then bottom-necked through a narrow gorge with fine arches, into an icy pool below. Needless to say, we all got warmed up immediately and went into a frenzy of photo-taking that was to become the order of the day.
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Despite the gloomy skies and foggy weather, for which the driver apologized (it was apparently clear and sunny last September), I enjoyed looking at the panoramic mountains shimmering mysteriously under the ever-shifting clouds, reminding me of a lyrical Chinese painting.
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Then, the unthinkable (at least, to me) happened. It snowed. That brought on a fresh spate of apologies from the driver to the amusement of the other "winter-seasoned" passengers who laughed appreciably and remained calmly rooted in their seats. All this while I was going crazy inside, wanting to
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scream for joy and rant at the driver to halt. What was he doing? This was a miracle! After what seemed like an eternity when I could only watched helplessly at the blizzard through the glass window,
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we finally had a brief stop. Oh, I could kiss the driver. Suffice to say, the world came to a standstill when I had my first wondrous feel of the white flurry and they melted, oh so sweetly, on my touch. Wow...
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More of the magical white matter at the next stop - to be precise, a massive chunk of ancient ice spanning 325 square kilometres and 365 metres deep. We had reached the Columbia Icefields, the Continental Divide with its meltwaters feeding river flows into three different oceans - the Pacific, the Arctic and the Atlantic. This is glacier country and the icefield comprises the Dome, Stutfield and Athabasca Glaciers.
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It is to the latter that we had a chance to step on when we took the fun Snocoach bus out. For a glacier, I must say it was pretty stable. Everything was startlingly
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white with a hint of bluish tinge, and a tad slippery. Still, I managed to have a short but decent snowball fight with a Japanese girl from the coach also travelling on her own. By lunch time, we had more companions joining - two chaps from Japan and Korea respectively.
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After departing from the Icefields Centre, the scenery changed and became amazingly even more beautiful as we descended - the astounding Weeping Wall, the dramatic jagged cliffs, the green forests cloaked in white like winter wonderland, and awesome snow-striped mountains abound.
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Then, we reached the icing of it all - Peyto. The breathtaking surreal lake radiates a mystical emerald glow from the glacial silt floating on its surface. Stunned were
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all by its remarkable beauty enhanced by its snow-decked surroundings. My new friends and I had a good time frolicking in the enchanting area which was all but too fleeting, when we had to continue on.
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After the fantastic run of surprises and marvels, alas, it all came to an end abruptly, when we reached the Lake Louise youth hostel where I had to drop. This leg of my journey is certainly the unforgettable highlight of my Rockies odyssey.
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