Canada Day!

Chairs set up for the parade

The fire happened the morning of June 29. I basically hung around the Canmore library again on June 30, dealing with the insurance folks getting things moving there, and writing friends and desperately seeking advice. The shock was beginning to wear off, but I still didn't know what I was going to do.

I still don't, but things are getting a little bit clearer.

Canada Day in Canmore

July 1 is Canada Day, a national holiday. This is pretty much like July 4 in the US, but with red and white instead of red, white, and blue.

I took an early morning walk around town to clear my head. I always think better when I walk.

Even at an early hour, the festivities were in full swing. People had come early to set up chairs along the parade route (love the "Canada" big and little chairs). There was a pancake breakfast. Booths were being set up at Centennial Park. One fellow was testing his drone, which was just a little bit creepy.

Setting up for Canada Day at Centennial Park in Cranmore

People were gathering, carrying plates and cups for the breakfast, pushing baby strollers and dressed in outrageous costumes (silly hats, red wigs) or at the very least in red and white.

Face paint with the Canadian flag on one's cheek, forehead, or arm was a popular option, as long as it didn't interfere with underlying tattoos.

I desperately wanted a red bandana so I would fit in better, but alas, have nothing red in my wardrobe except some red-white-and-blue star earrings and a cranberry shawl, which is not quite the bright scarlet representative of Canada!

Celebrate Canada Day in Canmore!

There was to be 3/5/10k footrace around town, too, preceding the parade, so runners were starting to gather, wearing their race numbers and warming up.

It got to be a bit much.  

One of the reasons I'd wanted to be away this summer was so that I wouldn't have to face another Fourth of July without the traditions — parade and waffle breakfast — of the past years, probably one of my favorite holidays (running neck and neck with Thanksgiving). Seeing so many familiar festivities really made me sad to be missing the July 4th activities in Marin with friends, and the loss of those traditions.  

But there was some respite. Even amidst all this frenetic activity, it was possible to find some peaceful places along either the Bow River or Spring Creek, which I did appreciate.

Along peaceful Spring Creek

There is something very, very soothing about the sound of running water. And it was a beautiful day, with none of the threat of thunderstorms or hail that there had been the previous day (possible damage to the car had added to my worries)!

On Canada Day, the library wasn't going to open until noon. I couldn't get wifi outside the building, and tried at a few stores downtown, but was unsuccessful in connecting. So I made the decision to try to for the library in Banff, which was only about 1/2 hour away by car.

The plan was to explore around Banff a bit, and then try to check in through wifi in the Banff Library when it opened at noon, thereby making excellent use of my time.

Big mistake.

Canada Day in Banff. 

I had no flippin' idea. Banff was possibly even more crowded the Canmore, maybe because it was now nearer parade time. Streets blocked off, hordes of people dressed in red and white.

There was NO way I could even get downtown, and now realizing how crowded it was, I really didn't even want to try.

I had this dawning realization that EVERYTHING was going to be crowded with celebrating Canadians this ENTIRE FREAKING WEEKEND. My heart pretty much sank. (My early plans, way before Book-Time, was to have gotten through the Canadian Rockies before the end of June, which would have worked well.) 

It was almost starting to be funny, the way everything seemed to be going wrong. My only hope at this point was that maybe everybody would be watching parades and that the road ahead would be clear. What could I do? It only seemed reasonable to push ahead and hope for the best.

Besides, I rationalized, I had gotten things rolling, and it didn't seem that there was much else I could do (regarding the fire) at this point. I mostly wanted to check in just to see if there were any updates from the insurance company or anything else. It could wait. It would have to.

And by this time, I was beginning to think that I really, really did not want to go back but wanted to make it as far north as I possibly could. So, somewhat stubbornly, I lit out to escape the crowds as best I could, heading north out of town like a dog with tin cans tied to its tail.

Blue dragonfly at Herbert Lake

Icefield Parkway

I had last been in the Canadian Rockies in 1976, on the grand bicentennial trip taken with Dave. I'd already come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to spend as much time as I'd originally planned, but assuaged myself with the fact that (1) I had "done" the Rockies then, (2) the mountains don't change that much, and (3) everything was going to be crowded, anyway, so maybe it was best to just scream through and Get North.

And the Rockies are not THAT far north from Montana, and I'll be going back to Montana.

But it was a beautiful day, the sky was blue, and every lake and stream and flower and glacier called to me.

Perfect reflection at Herbert Lake.

Classic Canadian Rockies: Waterfowl Lakes

Paintbrush; Crowfoot Glacier in the background

So, yes, there were crowds of people, but it was so beautiful, it was really okay.

There were fields of wildflowers. Even the Indian paintbrush were sporting Canada Day colors, although there were some that were coral, or orange, or even yellow.

The lakes were gorgeous shades of milky turquoise (from the glacial flour); the mountains set off dark contrast to the white glaciers and snow still clinging to the rocks.

Note: I have not seen many birds here, raptors or otherwise. It may be that I have been moving too fast, and not sitting quietly in any one place, but I miss seeing them soaring overhead, or flitting in the bushes.

What we did see was a bear.

You can pretty much bet on there being some manner of large wildlife when there is a traffic jam in the middle of the road, with cars going every which way.

I swear. People lose all sense. They stop in the middle of the road, get out of their cars and APPROACH THE BEAR, who was really minding his/her own business, foraging for food up on the hillside.

Bear jam; the bear is at the base of the red arrow

I didn't get a good picture, and hope that I get to Alaska I won't be in as much of a hurry, and that it won't be as crowded.

I can hope.

Rainy weather

As you may be able to tell from the photos, the weather started to deteriorate as Bow Summit neared.

I am a total California wimp when it comes to rain. Rain is all very well and lovely when you have a place to change into dry clothes, but I really don't like being wet and cold and clammy. Call it an aversion to hypothermia. Plus, when you have no place to dry clothes, this is doubly inconvenient. The car steams up. This may change as I just get used to it, but there's still something in me (probably from the backpacking trip in Washington that had relentless rain), that just does NOT want to get wet.

Rising from the ashes

However, one must go on, and fortunately, the cloud ceiling was relatively high so the drive was still scenic. I remember being in these mountains when you could only see the lower slopes, and none of the peaks, which was frustrating!

Besides, there are always books to read. I'm currently reading John Muir's Travels in Alaska. Muir visited Alaska in 1879, intent on seeing glaciers in action and learning first-hand how they formed the landscapes he observed in his beloved Yosemite Valley. He kept impeccable notes about the geology, flora, and fauna of the land, plus his adventures. He put most of these into book form, but unfortunately he died in 1912 before fully finishing it. It was posthumously printed in 1915. It is available in number of formats, and should be free in the public domain. What is even more fun, is that I found online (at the University of the Pacific website) a repository of his Alaskan sketches which would make a fine companion to the book!

(They are all wonderful, but this one of an Eskimo village, kayaks and a very large walrus, is particularly endearing.)

Athabasca Glacier. Here's what it looked like in 1970.

I have incredible respect for Mr. Muir. He seemed immune to wind, cold, rain or snow; pushed forward even when his companions (including "Indians" who probably had better sense) insisted it was too dangerous; scampered up brushy and rocky slopes; crossed swift, freezing rivers; and walked on the icy surface of Alaskan glaciers, all in the quest for knowledge and study, and somehow managed to keep his sketchbooks dry!

I am greatly humbled.

Glacial morphology: ice, moraines, braided outwash

The Athabasca Glacier is much reduced from what it was. There are signs showing where the toe was in 1884, 1908, 1928, 1935, 1975, etc. There is an excellent map showing the retreat, although the best way to imagine this is probably by visualizing the ice up to the level of the lateral moraines in the photo!

I'd thought to go out to the toe of the Athabasca Glacier, but, unlike Muir, I am not immune to wind and rain. When the wind slammed the car door shut, I retreated to the comfort of N0MAD's dry and comfortable interior, listening the sideways rain drumming on the roof. Besides, I had already been there once, and convinced myself that I really did not need to do it again.

Hanging glacier near Mt. Athabasca

The landscapes here are incredible, with morphology a result of geology and gravity. These are big, massive mountains, but they are being worn down by the relentless grinding of glacial ice, rain, freezing and melting of snow, and, to a lesser extent, wind. (I was particularly conscious of wind at the moment!)

It is hard to comprehend the amount of material — from huge boulders to cobbles to fine glacial flour — is moved by these still-mighty rivers of ice.

Athabasca Falls

The Athabasca River rapidly grows in size from the outwash from many tributary glaciers until it is a wide, seething river.

The water here is so full of glacial flour, that it gives the term "whitewater" deeper meaning. It is white even before it goes over the falls!

Down from the high country, the weather became more tolerable, and one cannot miss the falls.

Athabasca Falls

The river seemed to be in full spate and thundered over the rocks in its tearing hurry to get downstream.

And while the falls themselves are magnificent, the abandoned channels — narrow slot canyons that the falls carved in earlier times — that I think are particularly striking. You can look down to the frothing water below and try to imagine the power of the water that has worn away all that limestone.

Slot canyon

Awesome.
And beautiful.
And so powerful.

One of the places the interpretive signs lead you to is a large pothole.

I do wonder if this pothole really was formed by the modern river itself (by rocks continuously rubbing at the sides of the canyon by the power of the river) or whether it was a sub-glacial pothole. We saw one of these on a glaciology field trip in Yosemite, and it looked very much like this one, although this one was formed in limestone rather than granite.

 It is surprising how quickly you can get away from people here. 

There are trails that head up and down river, and there was no one on them except a frightened chipmunk. It was almost a little freaky!

Of course there are signs warning people ("Parents, mind your children") DO NOT GO NEAR THE EDGE OF THE RIVER.

Glacial flour precipitating out of the river water

Sadly, there was at least one memorial to a child who died, presumably drowned. Very sad; I hope it made people aware and made them think and respond to it. The roiling edge of this river is not a place for carefree wading!

That said, I was happy to explore a bit. But I stayed out of the water!

The fluvial environment is fascinating. Plants do grow out here, but they can be swept away at any time, so there are few trees outside the flood zone.

Mostly, it is evident how much sediment is in the water: when the velocity of the water decreases, it can carry less load, so the sediment drops out in fine deposits.

There were so many things to see here, that I quite did not want to leave.

However, the afternoon was getting on, so it seemed that I would probably stay the night in Jasper.

All the campgrounds were full. Every. Single. One. It was Canada Day (weekend), after all! So another night of stealth camping was on the docket.

Jasper

I thought that I might find wifi somewhere in Jasper, but ran into the same fierce holiday crowds there that I had experienced earlier in the day. The downtown street was mobbed with shoppers, foodies, ice cream lickers, and barhoppers.

Elk moving through the aspens

I never did find the library. Learning from past experience, and thinking it might be in the "Activity Center," I tried there as well, but it didn't seem to have a library or any accessible "open" wifi. By this time I gave up in disgust, found a park where I could have dinner, and then went exploring non-civilized areas.

Almost got trapped in a private "bungalow" vacation home development in trying to get to a local lake, but beat a hasty retreat and spent a nice evening on the shores of Patricia Lake. Of course, evenings (and these are loooong evenings) are great times to see wildlife, and I was fortunate to see a bull elk with a magnificent set of antlers majestically moving through the forest. The light was dim, but the camera was ready!

Sunset over Patricia Lake

Upon returning to Jasper town (I've learned that it's not a good idea to camp at roadside turnouts, a found a nice parking spot near the park I'd had dinner at earlier. A lot of people were out; there was music playing. It had been a long day, and even though it wasn't full dark at 10:30pm, I fell asleep.

I was awakened by what sounded like thunder thumping in the air. There had been periodic rain, but this sounded different and just a little bit alarming. It was Canada Day fireworks at 11pm (when it finally got dark enough). The town put on a nice little show – lots of red and white, and I could see them from the car! Quite an end to the day!

Tomorrow is a driving day — I'm making tracks for Hinton, and then Grande Prairie, so stay tuned!

Let's see if this movie of the head of the falls loads on the blog... I tried to give some idea of the power of the water before it goes over the edge.