JET PLANE

Christy dropped me off at the Charlotte airport early on the morning of July 19^th. I had a long day ahead of me. First, a flight to Atlanta, followed by a flight to Calgary, Alberta. I’d need to do some errands in Calgary (groceries, stove fuel, bear spray) before embarking on the long drive through the Canadian Rockies to Jasper National Park. I was starting my morning well before dawn, and I hoped to reach the Wabasso Campground, where I would meet Dave, before dark. We would be starting our first backpacking trip the next morning. Considering that I would gain 2 hours of daylight on the time zone changes, it would be a long day indeed. Had I bitten off too much on the very first day? Probably. But I was pretty sure I could handle it - as long as everything went according to plan.

I hit the first snag at the Charlotte airport. It was raining, which is unusual for early morning in July. The weather was even worse in Atlanta, which was besieged by thunderstorms. We sat on the runway for an hour, waiting for clearance to depart. Originally I had a 90 minute layover scheduled there, but the delay killed most of that. As we sat on the runway, I began to regret my decision to wait until I got to Atlanta to get breakfast.

Luckily the delay was limited to only an hour, and there were no further problems. Some fast walking and lucky timing with the train got me to my gate 10 minutes before boarding. That was just enough time to grab a breakfast sandwich from the restaurant with the shortest line in the food court. The flight to Calgary was smoother, and on time. I sailed through customs in Calgary, somehow managing to beat the rush. However, the next issue came up at baggage claim. My luggage was drenched. I had checked a suitcase and a duffel bag, and I had gate-checked my backpack, which I normally carry on. It wasn’t raining in Calgary, so I’m guessing that my luggage was left out in the rain either in Charlotte or Atlanta. The backpack was soaked, and one book at the bottom was ruined. Some of my backpacking gear and clothing was wet, too. It’s always great starting out a backpacking trip with wet gear. It turns out that this would be a theme of sorts throughout the trip.

The rest of the airport experience was more pleasant. I hit an ATM to get some Canadian funny money and then picked up the rental car from Avis. At the counter, they offered me a free upgrade from a compact to an Audi 4. I actually had to ask the clerk to repeat the offer. An Audi 4? That was so far beyond my means that it didn’t fully register. It was a fantastic car, and we had it for a month. For $800 – because it pays to reserve rental cars months in advance.

First I drove to the MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-Op, i.e., the REI of Canada) in downtown Calgary. I picked up some stove fuel and bear spray. I made a major mistake with the bear spray. When the clerk asked if I wanted the small or the large, I went with the large, thinking that the small would only be good for one shot. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’ve always carried the smaller size (which is actually good for 2-3 shots).

I returned to the parking lot to discover that I’d left the back door of the rental car wide open. Holy crap! About half of my luggage, including my camera, was in the back seat. I was in the store for at least 20 minutes, but nobody touched anything. The trip could’ve started with a major disaster, but ultimately it was only a minor footnote to this story.

From there I headed over to Safeway for groceries. Fortunately I didn’t need much, since I’d brought most of the food I’d need for the first backpacking trip. From there, I headed west on the Trans-Canadian Highway towards Banff. The drive was mostly pleasant, but the rain started somewhere between Banff and Lake Louise. That put a damper on the scenery – the drive through Banff and Jasper National Parks on the Icefields Parkway is considered one of the most scenic in the world. However, it wasn’t all bad. There was a wildfire burning in the northern part of Banff, adjacent to the road. Hopefully the rain would put a dent in it.

I only made one stop. Just beyond the Icefields area I pulled off at Tangle Creek Falls. The waterfall is visible from the road, and it is quite eye-catching. It was particularly nice with the extra water from the recent rain. The light was perfect, and luckily the rain had stopped just before I arrived. I took a few photos from the road before scrambling up to the base of the main drop for a different vantage point.

From there I drove straight to Wabbasso Campground. I’d made reservations there several months earlier, and had selected a site right on the Athabasca River. I expected to find Dave at the campsite, but he wasn’t there. It wasn’t raining, so I set up camp and started on dinner. Although it was after 9pm it was nowhere near dark. Early in the trip it didn’t start to get dark until after 10pm, and it wasn’t fully dark until after 11.

Dave showed up a bit later. It was great to see him! We’d dayhiked together in Cuyahoga National Park in Ohio back in December, as well as in Glacier National Park in Montana the previous August. Dave had driven out a few days earlier. He’d already spent a few days car camping and dayhiking. While we were chatting, I found out that the smoldering wildfire in northern Banff was minor compared to some raging fires to the west in British Columbia. When Dave first arrived it was so smoky that he couldn’t see the surrounding mountains. It had been raining off and on for two days though, so we were hopeful that the conditions would improve.

It started raining again during dinner, so we drove over to the cooking shelter to organize our gear. Once that chore was complete, we headed to bed with plans for an early start on Monday. We would have to drive to the trailhead, run a shuttle, and hike about 13 miles (with 2,400’ of elevation gain) just to reach our first campsite.

MY NAME IS MUD

We managed to get up early, despite a late evening packing. Dave had slept in his car, but I had to pack up a wet tent that morning. It had rained off and on all night, and it looked like it could start back up at any moment. We drove back over to the cooking shelter to make breakfast and do our final packing. From there, we drove over to the Cavell Meadows Trailhead, where we left Dave’s car. Then we piled into my car for the fairly short drive over to the starting point on Portal Creek off of Marmot Basin Road.

The parking area had perhaps a dozen cars and an RV that was apparently using the trailhead as an illicit campsite. After some last minute preparation, we hiked upstream along Portal Creek under cloudy skies. Before long we crossed a footbridge and joined the horse trail on the far side. We continued to follow Portal Creek, which was raging due to the recent rain. The hiking was pretty easy initially, and the wildflowers were fantastic. After a couple of miles we crossed the tributary draining Circus Valley on a stout bridge. More gentle climbing followed, and we passed through a vast rockslide with views of the peaks forming the headwaters of Portal Creek.

A bit later we rejoined Portal Creek and the trail went to hell. What had been a decent trail turned into a vast mudhole. Our progress slowed as we were forced to rock hop our way up the “trail”. Going through the mud wasn’t a realistic option – it was knee deep, or worse, in many places. Going around wasn’t effective either, since the “trail” was already wide enough to be called a road. In fact, trying to go around typically just resulted in more mud.

We took a break at the Portal Creek Campground, which was above the mud and featured nice views of Portal Creek and the surrounding mountains. Afterwards we resumed the climb towards MacCarib Pass. Fortunately the mud relented, at least for a little while. A short distance beyond the campground we met a French couple heading the other way. Their English was marginal, but we eventually understood that they’d experienced two bear encounters in the last few hours. The first had been on the far side of MacCarib Pass. The more recent was a grizzly that had wandered by while they were eating lunch – just a short distance upstream from our current location.

We continued on – cautiously – to MacCarib Pass. We didn’t see any bears, but the weather deteriorated as we climbed. The wildflowers were fantastic near treeline, but the views were compromised by the increasing clouds. Strong winds and rain hit us near the pass, so we pushed on down into the MacCarib Creek valley. Fortunately the rain passed quickly, though the clouds remained threatening. After a long, descent through more boot-sucking mud we reached a creek crossing. The bridge was washed out, so we were forced to wade. Later we discovered that we could’ve bypassed the crossing altogether by following a footpath down the near side of the creek.

We took a break at the MacCarib Campground. It would’ve been a pleasant place to rest, except for the mosquitoes. The bugs were incredible. The clouds were so thick that we got moving long before we were ready to resume the hike. We crossed a bridge back over MacCarib Creek and followed better trail down to Amethyst Lake.

Amethyst Lake is reputed to be one of the most beautiful places in the Canadian Rockies. I wasn’t disappointed. It’s a vast lake, with the sheer cliffs of The Ramparts as a backdrop. Even with marginal weather, the view was fantastic. We hiked around the lake for a mile or so before finally reaching the campsite. Although it’s one of the most popular spots in the Canadian Rockies, it was only half full. One group of young German guys had a couple of spots, while another was taken by two guys from Chattanooga, TN. The guys from Chattanooga were avid photographers, and I enjoyed chatting with them about hiking, photography, and an upcoming beer and music festival there featuring moe. – one of my favorite bands.

The campsite is exceptionally scenic, being a short distance from the shore of Amethyst Lake. The only drawback was the hordes of mosquitoes. The area around the lake is extremely marshy – a perfect breeding ground for Satan’s little helpers.

I rarely pack a tarp, but the marginal weather forecast had swayed me. As soon as we arrived we erected the tarp over one of the tables in the cooking area. It was a good move – the strongest storm hit while we were eating dinner. We huddled under the tarp while the storm raged. It passed fairly quickly, but the temperature dropped. Over the next few evenings, I began to question whether I’d brought enough warm clothing. At least the cold weather subdued the mosquitoes – temporarily.

Although we had a brief reprieve, this first backpacking trip was plagued by horrific clouds of mosquitoes. Instead of writing expansive prose about the little bastards, I have a better approach. I call it the mosquito meter. I’ll give each day a rating, depending on how bad the little devils were. Here’s the scale:

The Mosquito Meter

0 – No mosquitoes, happy days are here again!

1 – Minor nuisance, but consider slathering yourself in toxins just in case they get worse.

2 – Annoying. Deet up, kids!

3 – Pigpen. That cloud following you around isn’t dirt – it is a million tiny vampires trying to suck your blood.

4 – Solar eclipse – What’s that? You can no longer see the sun??

5 - Put me down, you bastards!

We’ll call day 1 a “3”.

It was cold the next morning. So cold that there was ice on the toilet seat. That was a refreshing way to start the day! Despite the cold, the mosquitoes were up shortly after we were. Still, getting up early had its rewards. Amethyst Lake was completely calm, and the reflections of The Ramparts in its still waters were spectacular.

Day 2 was a layover day, meaning that we didn’t have to move camp. Our plan was to dayhike to Moat Lake, which is a short distance northwest of Amethyst Lake. What we didn’t realize is that it is surprisingly hard to find.

We hiked the wet muddy trail back north, roughly parallel to the shore of Amethyst Lake. Before long we reached the signed junction with the trail to a lodge at the northern end of Amethyst Lake. We followed it towards the lodge, as Moat Lake is farther north, beyond it. This trail was basically a giant mudhole. Most visitors to the lodge arrive via horseback, and the horses* had destroyed the trail.

We slopped our way west, frequently rock hopping through the worst areas. After a while, we reached a puzzling junction. It was right in the middle of one of the biggest mudholes. There was a sign on a tree that said “horse camp”, with an arrow pointing to the left. We figured (correctly) that the horse camp was actually the lodge. Still, we continued ahead, as that trail was heading towards Moat Lake and it wasn’t muddy. Eventually that path circled around to rejoin the main trail.

We continued on to another junction and sign. This one said “hikers” and pointed to the left. The horse trail continued ahead. Since we are hikers, we obediently went left. This is where we went wrong, but we didn’t realize it until much later.

A couple of minutes later we met a young woman hiking the other way. She was barefoot. I guess she had just given up on avoiding the mud and had become one with it. It turns out that she was an employee at the horse camp / lodge. We chatted briefly, and asked her if she knew where the trail to Moat Lake was. She told us that there was a signed junction off of the horse trail, but that the sign was hard to see. She also said that she was on her way to meet some incoming guests, but that there weren’t any there at the moment. We were welcome to hang out on the porch if we wanted to.

We needed to return to the horse trail, but decided to check out the lodge first. We continued ahead, but before long the trail branched into numerous forks. There was no telling which trail went to the lodge. The first one we tried took us to the lake. We wandered around a bit longer before stumbling on the lodge, which is really more of a group of cabins. We took a break there in the sunshine, before resuming our quest for Moat Lake.

We hiked back down the horse trail, looking for the junction and sign. There were several trails branching off in the correct direction, but none were signed. Before long we returned to the original junction with the “hikers” sign. Based on the information we’d received, I thought we’d missed the junction and sign. However, Dave had interpreted her directions differently. He thought the junction was farther back. Since we hadn’t seen it where I expected it, we decided to backtrack.

We hiked slowly, and I explored every minor trail heading off to the left. None looked promising, and we didn’t see any signs. We hiked almost all of the way back to the junction with the main trail. At that point we decided to hike down to the lakeshore to regroup and eat lunch.

We followed a faint path to the lake, where we found a rowboat. We were seriously tempted to take it for a spin. I even contemplated rowing it to the far northwest corner of the lake. We could probably hike to Moat Lake from there.

Ultimately we decided to hike back towards the lodge. We endured the mudhole of a trail for the third time. We passed the “horse camp” junction again, and continued on to the “hikers” junction. This time we stayed right, on the horse trail. A few minutes later we arrived at a junction with not one, but two signs pointing towards Moat Lake. We had walked right by here earlier, but from the opposite direction. Coming from that direction, the signs were virtually invisible, and the trail itself was obscure. If only we had stayed on the horse trail at the first encounter with the “hikers” sign we would’ve saved ourselves a few hours of wandering around.

The rest of the hike was a piece of cake. The trail was faint at times, particularly through the vast willow swamps between Amethyst and Moat Lakes. There were several creek crossings, too, but we were able to rock hop all of them.

Eventually we reached the swampy shore of Moat Lake. It sits directly below the northwestern end of The Ramparts. We took a break there, but didn’t linger long. A brief storm rolled through, which convinced to get started on the hike back. We skipped the extension of the hike up to the pass above the lake. The pass is actually heavily wooded, so I’m not sure how much of a view there would’ve been.

The mosquitoes were terrible around Moat Lake, and in the willow swamps along the way. They were so bad, it was difficult to pee. This experience gave me inspiration. What the world needed was a headnet…for the penis. It would offer protection from mosquitoes, but still allow urine to escape. Dave loved the idea. We worked on the design that evening. Ultimately we decided to use a condom with the tip cut off**. We considered a number of names. The finalists were:

· Penis Sheath

· Pee Pee Poncho

· Pecker Sweater

· Woodie Hoodie

· Stiffy Spiffy

· Biffy Buddy

· Wiener Schnitzel

We returned by the same route. Our fourth traverse of the horse trail was no less tedious than the first three. Returning to camp was a relief! It was cold again that evening, but there weren’t any additional storms. However, before the cold set in, the mosquitoes were horrific. Mosquito Meter 4.

*To be accurate, as my friend Myron once stated, “horses don’t destroy trails, horseback riders destroy trails”.

**Not a recommended method of birth control.

Continue reading about our adventures in the Canadian Rockies as Dave and I conclude our backpacking trip in Tonquin Valley in Jasper National Park.

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