Saturday, September 17, 2005
Raspberry Ridge
OK, I wasn't expecting too much anyway from this hike, since we had a lot of precipitation over the past week, and there was a lot of snowfall in the higher elevations, but a few incidents put this one as the worst hike so far. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it. Actually, it was a lot of fun for what it was. But it had a few moments that left me just a little off balance.
Raspberry Ridge is beside highway 940, the Forest Trunk Road, west of Longview. It's a fairly strenuous hike, with either a nasty steep scramble or a longer but still steep path to the top, where there is a working fire lookout. The way I drove down there is past Millarville, and through Turner Valley and Black Diamond. Right after turning off highway 22X, I began to run into patches of ground fog, looking so cool that I had to stop and take a few shots. This is probably the best one:
The first "moment" is one Nony will pick up on right away. Seeing as how I am doing these hikes almost every weekend, and usually solo, I felt it prudent to let someone know where I'm going. So I emailed Nony the night before, saying I was planning a hike on Mt. Lipsett. I had the name, and read the trail description, but for some reason, focused on the wrong part of the map. Sorry, Nony, but hey, I only missed it by about thirty kilometres.
So I parked at the trail head, hopped out of the car, and had a quick chat with four gentlemen getting ready to bike into the back country for a camping/hunting trip. Then it was off down the road.
Road? Umm... Oh, heck! ABout 200 metres down the road, I realized I had forgotten my GPS and sunglasses, so back to the car (Moment #2).
OK, what is this road? And that gate back there? Where is the cairn and the stump marking the trailhead to Mt. Lipsett? This is where I dig out the map and have another look, and this is where I realize I'm not where I thought I was. Well, OK, what the heck, a hike is a hike.
But the trail description for Raspberry Ridge says take the trail to the right. What trail? That one up there? (Moment #3) I climb up an embankment to find another road that's a little more enclosed by the forest.
Well, OK, less mud, more snow, but no big deal. (Remember this point, cuz it'll feature in the worst of the moments)
Actually, after ducking under the tree and following the road, the snow began to thin a bit and the mud was more and more submerged under water. Back to the map and the trail description. Take the trail to the right at the sign, it says. Sign? That one back there? That's behind a tree and is only visible after you've walked past it and look back? *sigh* (Moment #4)
Now we're making progress. The path is partly under snow, but it's pretty thin. Meltwater is running down the exposed parts of the path, but it's not deep, rarely more than half a centimetre. The sun is shining, not a breath of wind, life is good.
After a few minutes, I reach a clearing that gives me a clear veiw of the lookout and the ridge. The fire lookout is on the right-most peak.
I took this picture and a few others, then put the camera back in my pocket, remembering that I had forgot to put my car key in a zippered pocket on my jacket. I think... Nope, not there, not in the pocket with my camera. In my backpack? Not in the side pocket, not in the main part. Not in the other pocket. (Moment #5)
To my credit, I didn't really panic. I did, however, swear a lot, and in retrospect, that's probably a lot more effective in alerting grizzly bears of your presence than those bear bells. That's my story, anyway...
Back down the path. Swearing, grumbling, and after a little, beginning to worry. Looking for a red canvas ribbon with a key attached, and thank goodness it was that easy to spot. Three quarters of a kilometre down, laying in a footprint of my own making, there it is. *whew* That tree laying across the road awhile back? Where I whipped out the camera to take that picture? Well, I must have snagged my key at the same time. Lesson learned: put a spare car key in the damn backpack.
After that, it was downright enjoyable. The snow eventually got a little deeper and crustier, but never so much that it was really hard to slog through. Eventually it went down into a ravine with a brook running down the bottom, which I crossed without getting my feet too wet. And then there's a fork in the road.
Right is straight and wide, but the snow looks pretty deep and there's no hint of a path. Left is a trough in the snow showing the underlying path going up and off to the south. So that way it was.
Now there's lots of tracks in the snow. Lots of deer and squirrel tracks going every which way. Something that looks like rabbit tracks, but with a short wide foot. Neat! And then there are these tracks beside the path.
Great big dinnerplate size tracks, the kind that really big, grouchy, bell-disdaining grizzly bears might leave. Umm....
OK, they're old tracks, having melted around the edges and widened from the sun. And they seem to be going the other way. So that's OK, right?
Seriously these were really old tracks, so I wasn't too worried. But still, finding something moving in the trees right beside you when you're least expecting it is a bit of an adrenalin rush. These two seemed to think it was spring.
Ptarmigans, I think. The male was doing his dance, strutting around and shaking his tail, but it seems like the wrong time of the year to be thinking of starting a family. And maybe he knew it, cuz it was pretty half hearted. Could be he was a little inhibited with me standing there, too.
The farther I went, the more open the forest became, until I was pretty much in the open, The path followed a ridge, and those monster footprints got smaller and smaller, and more and more hoof shaped. Still really big, so maybe a bull elk? I think a bull, because it was a solitary animal.
And then the path seemed to split again, crossing a ravine to the left, or heading straight up a small ridge to the right.
The snow at this point was getting just too crusty and deep and hard to slog through. I found a bare patch of ground to sit on beside a small tree, and had a snack and a rest, and enjoyed the view. To the east was Mt. Burke, which is another hike on my list.
And just south of that is Plateau Mountain, also on my list.
Then back down. By then, the day was warming up, and the snow that was crusty was now becoming softer. So while it was easier going down, my feet were getting awfully wet.
At a couple of places along the path, my footprints from going up were already being used by the wildlife.
I never did see anything but birds, but it was kinda neat to know there were other animals around.
So. Not a great hike, in that I didn't get to the objective. Heck, I didn't even get to the right mountain. But still an adventure, and still fun. This one is back on my list for when there's less snow up there.
Raspberry Ridge is beside highway 940, the Forest Trunk Road, west of Longview. It's a fairly strenuous hike, with either a nasty steep scramble or a longer but still steep path to the top, where there is a working fire lookout. The way I drove down there is past Millarville, and through Turner Valley and Black Diamond. Right after turning off highway 22X, I began to run into patches of ground fog, looking so cool that I had to stop and take a few shots. This is probably the best one:
The first "moment" is one Nony will pick up on right away. Seeing as how I am doing these hikes almost every weekend, and usually solo, I felt it prudent to let someone know where I'm going. So I emailed Nony the night before, saying I was planning a hike on Mt. Lipsett. I had the name, and read the trail description, but for some reason, focused on the wrong part of the map. Sorry, Nony, but hey, I only missed it by about thirty kilometres.
So I parked at the trail head, hopped out of the car, and had a quick chat with four gentlemen getting ready to bike into the back country for a camping/hunting trip. Then it was off down the road.
Road? Umm... Oh, heck! ABout 200 metres down the road, I realized I had forgotten my GPS and sunglasses, so back to the car (Moment #2).
OK, what is this road? And that gate back there? Where is the cairn and the stump marking the trailhead to Mt. Lipsett? This is where I dig out the map and have another look, and this is where I realize I'm not where I thought I was. Well, OK, what the heck, a hike is a hike.
But the trail description for Raspberry Ridge says take the trail to the right. What trail? That one up there? (Moment #3) I climb up an embankment to find another road that's a little more enclosed by the forest.
Well, OK, less mud, more snow, but no big deal. (Remember this point, cuz it'll feature in the worst of the moments)
Actually, after ducking under the tree and following the road, the snow began to thin a bit and the mud was more and more submerged under water. Back to the map and the trail description. Take the trail to the right at the sign, it says. Sign? That one back there? That's behind a tree and is only visible after you've walked past it and look back? *sigh* (Moment #4)
Now we're making progress. The path is partly under snow, but it's pretty thin. Meltwater is running down the exposed parts of the path, but it's not deep, rarely more than half a centimetre. The sun is shining, not a breath of wind, life is good.
After a few minutes, I reach a clearing that gives me a clear veiw of the lookout and the ridge. The fire lookout is on the right-most peak.
I took this picture and a few others, then put the camera back in my pocket, remembering that I had forgot to put my car key in a zippered pocket on my jacket. I think... Nope, not there, not in the pocket with my camera. In my backpack? Not in the side pocket, not in the main part. Not in the other pocket. (Moment #5)
To my credit, I didn't really panic. I did, however, swear a lot, and in retrospect, that's probably a lot more effective in alerting grizzly bears of your presence than those bear bells. That's my story, anyway...
Back down the path. Swearing, grumbling, and after a little, beginning to worry. Looking for a red canvas ribbon with a key attached, and thank goodness it was that easy to spot. Three quarters of a kilometre down, laying in a footprint of my own making, there it is. *whew* That tree laying across the road awhile back? Where I whipped out the camera to take that picture? Well, I must have snagged my key at the same time. Lesson learned: put a spare car key in the damn backpack.
After that, it was downright enjoyable. The snow eventually got a little deeper and crustier, but never so much that it was really hard to slog through. Eventually it went down into a ravine with a brook running down the bottom, which I crossed without getting my feet too wet. And then there's a fork in the road.
Right is straight and wide, but the snow looks pretty deep and there's no hint of a path. Left is a trough in the snow showing the underlying path going up and off to the south. So that way it was.
Now there's lots of tracks in the snow. Lots of deer and squirrel tracks going every which way. Something that looks like rabbit tracks, but with a short wide foot. Neat! And then there are these tracks beside the path.
Great big dinnerplate size tracks, the kind that really big, grouchy, bell-disdaining grizzly bears might leave. Umm....
OK, they're old tracks, having melted around the edges and widened from the sun. And they seem to be going the other way. So that's OK, right?
Seriously these were really old tracks, so I wasn't too worried. But still, finding something moving in the trees right beside you when you're least expecting it is a bit of an adrenalin rush. These two seemed to think it was spring.
Ptarmigans, I think. The male was doing his dance, strutting around and shaking his tail, but it seems like the wrong time of the year to be thinking of starting a family. And maybe he knew it, cuz it was pretty half hearted. Could be he was a little inhibited with me standing there, too.
The farther I went, the more open the forest became, until I was pretty much in the open, The path followed a ridge, and those monster footprints got smaller and smaller, and more and more hoof shaped. Still really big, so maybe a bull elk? I think a bull, because it was a solitary animal.
And then the path seemed to split again, crossing a ravine to the left, or heading straight up a small ridge to the right.
The snow at this point was getting just too crusty and deep and hard to slog through. I found a bare patch of ground to sit on beside a small tree, and had a snack and a rest, and enjoyed the view. To the east was Mt. Burke, which is another hike on my list.
And just south of that is Plateau Mountain, also on my list.
Then back down. By then, the day was warming up, and the snow that was crusty was now becoming softer. So while it was easier going down, my feet were getting awfully wet.
At a couple of places along the path, my footprints from going up were already being used by the wildlife.
I never did see anything but birds, but it was kinda neat to know there were other animals around.
So. Not a great hike, in that I didn't get to the objective. Heck, I didn't even get to the right mountain. But still an adventure, and still fun. This one is back on my list for when there's less snow up there.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Mt. Indefatigable
I've been thinking about this one for awhile, and when Nony recommended it, well, that decided it. I was out there just after 8:00 in the morning, and after getting a little lost for a few minutes (ended up at the boat launch on the Upper Kananaskis Lake), I'm in the parking lot.
As I started across the dam to the trailhead, there's a conservation officer holding an antenna thing in the air. I asked what he was tracking, and was told there was a juvenile grizzly wandering along the east shore of the upper lake. So, OK, um... is this a good idea to be wandering the woods with grizzlies wandering the same area? Actually, he was quite reassuring, in that they spend a lot of time tracking and "training" the bears to avoid areas where humans concentrate. And while there are three or four grizzlies that den on Indefatigable for the winter, the berry crop is so good this year that they are staying in the low elevations for now. *whew*
Anyway, the time in the forest is pretty short, and then I'm scrambling up a fairly steep stretch, over rock slab and loose gravel. After that, there's a lookout, with a bench, and a nearly sheer drop to the Lower Kananaskis Lake behind it. This is the view of the upper lake and Mt. Sarrail.
Here is the parking lot between the upper and lower lakes.
I don't have a name for the valley in the background, but the ridge on the left is the Elk Range. The Alberta - B.C. border cuts across the valley a couple of kilometres south of the lakes, and follows the top of this ridge.
As you go along the edge of the cliff from this point to the official end of the trail, the view just keeps improving. About twenty metres from the end of trail sign, is a path leading away from the ridge edge into the forest. This leads to a cirque below the peak of Indefatigable. That's it on the right of the first picture, and the left of the second.
Off the right edge of the last picture is a ridge with a path that I followed to the top. Over this ridge, it drops all the way to the lower lake again, about 700 metres. This is a look at the saddle between it and Indefatigable from that ridge.
And another shot once I was totally lined up with the ridge.
And I played with the timer thingy on my camera again. This is the top of the ridge, with my hand on the top of the highest point of it. The lower lake is about two metres farther to the left of this picture, and 700+ metres down, which is why I'm not standing. The edge was just a little too close.
The view from this point is breathtaking. To the west is the Opal Range on the opposite side of the valley. You can see highway 40 following it into a gap between it and the Elk range. Straight north is the Smith-Dorrien/Spray Trail, which leads to Canmore.
In the bottom of the saddle between the ridge and the peak of Indefatigable, there is a curious line. One side is mostly a rusty orange gravel, while the other is the light grey stuff. It's about as sharp as if it had been masked and painted.
The line seems to follow the absolute lowest line of the saddle. Very strange.
The far side of the ridge drops steeply into a deep bowl with two small lakes at the bottom.
And this is the look back toward the south.
As I continued toward the peak, I met another gentleman stopped for a snack. He and I talked for awhile, then continued on. He was game to try and go to the top, and there was a path of sorts that zig-zagged toward it over the rock. It looked dicey to me, but I was game for awhile. We finally got to a small overhang that I couldn't get past, so I said good luck and headed back down. The overhang looks like a cave in the picture. If I curled up in the fetal position, I would probably just fit inside. It was because it was so small that I couldn't get past it. If I could have stood up, I think I would have been able to continue.
According to the GPS data I later downloaded that point is only twenty metres below the top of the peak, so I was close.
Just before I went down, I took this picture of the ridge to the south that this guy was following.
Standing below this looking up at it, you don't see how narrow it is, like a knife-edge that goes for a couple of kilometres. I watched him as I decended into the cirque, and finally lost sight of him as I entered the trees again.
Looking the other way from the top, is another ridge looking over the valley with the two lakes. The ridge leads to another mountain in the series, Mt. Invincible. It's rather impressively narrow, too.
The smaller peak over the ridge is Mt. Nomad. I don't have any info on the ridge behind that.
The trip down was uneventful, as it always seems to be. All the interesting stuff has already been discovered on the way up, and after four or so hours, I'm tired and hungry, and looking forward to getting to the car. Lot's of people were coming up, though. I supposed it was one last outing before the school year starts.
As I started across the dam to the trailhead, there's a conservation officer holding an antenna thing in the air. I asked what he was tracking, and was told there was a juvenile grizzly wandering along the east shore of the upper lake. So, OK, um... is this a good idea to be wandering the woods with grizzlies wandering the same area? Actually, he was quite reassuring, in that they spend a lot of time tracking and "training" the bears to avoid areas where humans concentrate. And while there are three or four grizzlies that den on Indefatigable for the winter, the berry crop is so good this year that they are staying in the low elevations for now. *whew*
Anyway, the time in the forest is pretty short, and then I'm scrambling up a fairly steep stretch, over rock slab and loose gravel. After that, there's a lookout, with a bench, and a nearly sheer drop to the Lower Kananaskis Lake behind it. This is the view of the upper lake and Mt. Sarrail.
Here is the parking lot between the upper and lower lakes.
I don't have a name for the valley in the background, but the ridge on the left is the Elk Range. The Alberta - B.C. border cuts across the valley a couple of kilometres south of the lakes, and follows the top of this ridge.
As you go along the edge of the cliff from this point to the official end of the trail, the view just keeps improving. About twenty metres from the end of trail sign, is a path leading away from the ridge edge into the forest. This leads to a cirque below the peak of Indefatigable. That's it on the right of the first picture, and the left of the second.
Off the right edge of the last picture is a ridge with a path that I followed to the top. Over this ridge, it drops all the way to the lower lake again, about 700 metres. This is a look at the saddle between it and Indefatigable from that ridge.
And another shot once I was totally lined up with the ridge.
And I played with the timer thingy on my camera again. This is the top of the ridge, with my hand on the top of the highest point of it. The lower lake is about two metres farther to the left of this picture, and 700+ metres down, which is why I'm not standing. The edge was just a little too close.
The view from this point is breathtaking. To the west is the Opal Range on the opposite side of the valley. You can see highway 40 following it into a gap between it and the Elk range. Straight north is the Smith-Dorrien/Spray Trail, which leads to Canmore.
In the bottom of the saddle between the ridge and the peak of Indefatigable, there is a curious line. One side is mostly a rusty orange gravel, while the other is the light grey stuff. It's about as sharp as if it had been masked and painted.
The line seems to follow the absolute lowest line of the saddle. Very strange.
The far side of the ridge drops steeply into a deep bowl with two small lakes at the bottom.
And this is the look back toward the south.
As I continued toward the peak, I met another gentleman stopped for a snack. He and I talked for awhile, then continued on. He was game to try and go to the top, and there was a path of sorts that zig-zagged toward it over the rock. It looked dicey to me, but I was game for awhile. We finally got to a small overhang that I couldn't get past, so I said good luck and headed back down. The overhang looks like a cave in the picture. If I curled up in the fetal position, I would probably just fit inside. It was because it was so small that I couldn't get past it. If I could have stood up, I think I would have been able to continue.
According to the GPS data I later downloaded that point is only twenty metres below the top of the peak, so I was close.
Just before I went down, I took this picture of the ridge to the south that this guy was following.
Standing below this looking up at it, you don't see how narrow it is, like a knife-edge that goes for a couple of kilometres. I watched him as I decended into the cirque, and finally lost sight of him as I entered the trees again.
Looking the other way from the top, is another ridge looking over the valley with the two lakes. The ridge leads to another mountain in the series, Mt. Invincible. It's rather impressively narrow, too.
The smaller peak over the ridge is Mt. Nomad. I don't have any info on the ridge behind that.
The trip down was uneventful, as it always seems to be. All the interesting stuff has already been discovered on the way up, and after four or so hours, I'm tired and hungry, and looking forward to getting to the car. Lot's of people were coming up, though. I supposed it was one last outing before the school year starts.
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