At one point or another during our annual summer trip, Hunter (featured in today’s picture ... wearing a white shirt and raising his arms ... do ya see him?) and I always go on a hike together. Alone. Actually Hadley accompanied us once, but we usually pick a day when most everyone else is sick to death of hiking (simple enough) and not wanting to go anywhere near as far as I want to go (again, simple enough) and not wanting to wake up at the hour that is often necessary to find a bit of solitude (crazy simple). This year, Friday was the day. I actually got Hadley up at the same time to see if she was interested in going, but she was a zombie. Not even the prospect of a real-live, snack-filled backcountry tea house was enough to motivate her. And that is saying something.
So ... the bonding-with-Hunter hike of choice this year was the Plain of the Six Glaciers Trail, which starts at Lake Louise (see last Wednesday’s post) and climbs about 1600 feet to a viewpoint near the bottom of -- you guessed it -- six glaciers. The route covers about 8 1/2 miles roundtrip if you go absolutely as far as you can go, so that’s 4 1/4 miles up and 4 1/4 miles down. Yeah, my math skills are that good. Sixteen hundred feet up over 4 1/4 miles is like climbing a completely vertical staircase (ladder) that is 1 1/4 football fields tall with every mile that you walk. That’s non-trivial but it’s not too bad. When we lived in Arizona, I hiked to the top of Mount Wrightson on three different occasions. The trail to the top there covers about 6 miles and the elevation gain is about 4100 feet ... so that translates into climbing a vertical staircase that is about 2 1/3 football fields tall with every mile that you walk. But that 12-mile circuit is the most grueling route I’ve ever taken in a single day ... and my lungs and legs were 16 years younger and much more accustomed to this sort of thing the last time I did it as well.
Anyway, all was well on Friday. We were the second pair of the day to make it to the tea house that is a little less than a mile from the top. Stopped there for some coffee and, according to Hunter, thoroughly terrible lemonade. Apparently backcountry tea houses are rather common along Canadian and European trail routes, and I must say that I do like the idea. All of the supplies are brought up by horse a few times a week and the handful of employees stay in a couple of cabins next to the facility. Kinda cool. After hanging out there for ten minutes or so, I asked Hunter if he wanted to push on to the top or head back to the bottom. He said he was game to proceed, so off we went.
The trail to the top starts out innocently enough. Then after about half a mile, it gets a bit steeper and quite a bit more exposed and ultimately traverses the top of a lateral moraine -- which is a steep ridge of debris that is formed when a glacier advances. Basically, with about 300 yards to the viewing area, one has to walk across the top of a three-foot wide knife blade, where the east side of the blade angles 50 or so feet into a boulder field and the west side of the blade drops straight down and off the face of the earth. Or so it seems. It’s probably only 500 feet or so ... but y’know, after the first 50 or 60 feet it wouldn’t make much difference.
Now ... I love hiking in the mountains and would do it just about every day of the year if I could. But I most emphatically am NOT a fan of exposed heights. I admire mountaineers but I do not REMOTELY get them. So when we rounded the corner and saw what was to be seen, I literally started laughing ...
Hunter - What’s going on, dad?
Me - Well, Hunter, it looks like we’re going to have to be content with our view of the glaciers from here. They look pretty amazing, don’t you think?
Hunter - What?
Me - Yeah, the best viewing area is just a few hundred yards up the trail there but I’m not walking 100 yards across that ridge top.
Hunter - Seriously? We have to turn around NOW?
Me - Umm ... yeah. No way am I crossing that thing.
Hunter - Come on dad, don’t be such a chicken.
One gut check and about five minutes later, we’d traversed that route and covered the rest of the distance and were seated on the talus slope above, facing the glaciers. Sitting, white-knuckled, on a steep bed of loose gravel, about five feet from the edge that as far as I know drops into Land of the Lost-ville wasn’t particularly comforting either, but then I started thinking about what Paige would’ve said (the censored version, anyway) if she had been teleported onto the scene about 10 minutes prior ... which of course made me start laughing again. Meanwhile Hunter is basically dancing around on the talus slope, picking up loose rocks and asking me if he can throw them over the edge to see how long it takes before he hears them hit the ground. Umm, pretty sure you'd NEVER hear them, Hunter ...
It was all very surreal. But definitely one of the 10 coolest trails I’ve ever taken.
When we got back to Banff at about two in the afternoon, Paige had just finished all of the laundry (yesssssssss) ... so everybody spent a good part of the afternoon at the Douglas Fir Chalet’s Waterpark (see last Tuesday’s entry). We had it totally to ourselves, save for a high school girl and her younger siblings. The kids monopolized the water slides (which, truthfully, are terrific), and it was hot tub city for my old, feeble muscles and rainbow-colored ankle.
And not a naked European in sight.
We’re shoving off in the morning (Monday) for Washington. I’ll have an update from our two days in Revelstoke, BC tomorrow.
Cheers,
Mike
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