Saturday, July 28, 2007
Chester Lake, Take Two
Interesting how plans change in a heartbeat. Daisy and I originally planned for Eiffel Lake, but last night we rethought things, as she wanted to move some things to her place near the Lower Kananaskis. So to her place to pick her up and a few items of furniture, to her parents' place to transfer to her van, and then westward.
As has become usual with Daisy, the drive was fun and conversation filled. Once we turned onto Highway 40, I took advantage of my perspective as a passenger to gawk at the scenery. Nothing but a blue, cloudless sky and incredible mountains, muted by atmospheric haze, what Daisy called a pastel sky.
Along side Barrier Lake, a surprise: a brown bear browsing in the ditch. It seemed strange to find one sandwiched between a busy highway, and a busy lake. More wildlife just past Galatea: a young mountain ram decided to slow our lane. He eventually moved across the road, but looked a little confused.
At the lake, we unloaded the things we had brought out, loaded other things to be taken to the dump later, and then drove north on the Smith-Dorrien Spray Trail. By now it was late morning, and the sun was high and hot. Forecast highs for the area were around 30C, and I think it got there early.
We pulled into a busy parking lot at the Chester Day Use area around 11:30. I hopped out and heard something strange. By the time I walked around to the driver's side of the van, the air rushing from the front tire left it half flat. By the time Daisy got out to look, it was fully flat. We must have picked something up driving through the parking lot.
Daisy's first reaction was to get the camera out and document the moment. As if there was anything else we could do right then? After a little discussion of what we would need to do later, we set out.
What a difference two months makes! I'd started out on this trail back then, walking packed snow, that turned into not-so-packed snow after a kilometre or so. Now it's dry and busy with hiking traffic, here and there lined with wild strawberries (so tasty!)
We caught up with, and passed, a few groups of hikers, and were passed by one or two more. This is a great trail for kids, and there were lots. The trail starts out as an old logging road that switchbacks up the slope, later turning into a root bound trail through forest. Soon enough it levels off, passing through a couple of large meadows, criss-crossed with the branches of a mountain stream, and positively littered with wildflowers.
At the third clearing we were at Chester Lake - small, deep and dark blue, fading to brilliant green at the edges. Lunch time. We found a spot not occupied by fisherpersons and other hikers under a shady spruce. This quickly turned into an idyllic moment, with bright sun and beautiful scenery.
We no sooner had the Ziplocs of trail mix opened than a tiny striped squirrel wandered up for a handout. Quite the brazen little rodent, actually. I fished a few sunflower seeds out of my trail mix and tossed them his way, as did Daisy. After these were vacuumed into his cheek pouches, I held out three more in my hand. After a cautious approach, he sampled my finger tip. I was rather proud of myself for not flinching, and to his credit, he didn't break skin. But those tiny little teeth are sharp!
After that, he hung around, looking for more. I was a little concerned about him getting into my backpack, but he behaved. Meanwhile, the fish were coming within a few feet of our lunch stop. I'm definitely not a fish expert, but I'll guess Rainbow trout. They had pinkish gills and underbellies, but were more yellowy on top (actually, Rainbows are more greenish grey on top, I think), blending in a little with the mud and rocks near the shore. A couple were at least thirty centimetres long. And not at all shy about snapping up a sunflower seed.
Lunch done, sun block reapplied, we continued around the lake. The path was close to the water's edge, and we passed lots of people stopped for lunch or rests.
Perhaps it was my demeanor, or maybe the smell of my sunblock. One trio had a beautiful big dog, who seemed to not like me at all. His owner was already telling him to settle down before I noticed him growling. As I got up beside the group, he lunged at me, snarling, and brushed past my leg. His owner managed to call him back and hold on to him as we passed. Really, it happened so fast, I didn't even get an adrenalin rush. Daisy was a little way behind, so was not near to the action. I don't know what it was about, but we passed without much more than some growling, while his owner held him.
A small island of rock sits at the far end of the lake, joined precariously to the shore by a line of stepping stones peeking above the water. On a large boulder in the middle of this island is an inukshuk of some character. Daisy, with her fine arts training and background, was quite taken with it. It seemed to be dancing, almost, frozen in mid-twirl, its shape suggesting movement. Of course the camera was out.
Back on the shore, the path continued along a scree slope that lead up to the sloping layers of Mount Chester. One or two paths looked climbable, and we considered them for a future adventure. But the perspective changed as we continued, and we could see there was no way to ascend without equipment.
Off the scree and back into the meadow, a path snaked southward through larch and boulders. We followed this for a bit, and found a slope that looked very climbable, and we ascended a little way. The picture here shows this notch on the right.
A strange day so far. Probably due to the heat, but we had no energy for much more at this point. So we called it a day and headed back down. Lot's of people coming up still, in mid afternoon. A six month old in a backpack-like carrier stopped to charm us with her pink rimmed sunglasses and the rest of her family. And lots more kids chasing ahead of their parents, seemingly oblivious to the hear.
At the parking lot, of course, waited our little problem. Daisy backed the van a few feet so we could get under the front with the jack. Not fun. The jack wouldn't go under the frame where it was supposed to because of the low tire, so I jammed it under another point. Stupid jack design allowed almost no room to use the jack handle. It was slow going.
Just as the tire got off the ground, I noticed the jack leaning, so we wedged a couple of boards under the frame, and I moved the jack to the proper place for it. After that it went a little smoother.
Flat tire off, spare tire on, jack let down, spare tire flat. Sheesh!
Well not quite flat. There was just enough air in it, to keep the rim off the road. We decided to head back to Pocaterra, where there was a pay phone, since there's no cell service in the area. From there, we could bring Daisy's AMA gold card into play. The tire lasted about ten metres before it was totally flat.
Time for an executive decision. The van is ancient, and this was probably the only time the spare was used. Most of the paint had peeled off, but it ran fairly reliably. We kept going.
The Spray Trail is, like most gravel highways, almost all washboard roughness. We got an intimate feel for that. Even so, we made good time, never moving above 40 kph. Coming up to the junction at the Kananaskis Lakes we lost a small chunk of sidewall from the now partially shredded tire. And then right into the Pocaterra Day Use parking lot.
While Daisy was on the phone listening to how important her call to the AMA was, I checked out the remnants of the spare. It was pretty much all there, although the sidewall was worn through. The rim had been hammered pretty hard, too, and was kind of rolled outward. The smell of burnt tire was pungent, and it and the rim were radiating quite toastily.
An hour wait, and we snacked on the rest of our trail mix, photographed the damage, and generally hung out.
And finally a big flatbed truck pulled up. It didn't take long for Silas to winch the van up on his truck and tie it down. And then the long drive to Daisy's place.
Silas is an interesting guy. He lives in Banff, and drives tow truck four days a week. Other days he's out exploring, hiking, fishing, whatever outdoor adventures he can get to. But long hours too. I think we were his second trip to Calgary today, and he'd also been to Lake Louise at least once.
At Daisy's place, Silas unloaded the van, while Daisy continued photojournalizing. And after the paperwork was done, Daisy drove me back to her parents place to my car. And here I am.
For all the events, it was a pretty cool adventure. I think we both were determined to enjoy the moment, and not worry about how things were going to turn out. Another amazing hike, and some interesting extras. Can't wait to see how it goes the next time.
Having trouble downloading info from the GPS for some reason, so the following is partly from my visit two months ago, and partly from memory of today.
Chester Lake
Starting elevation: 1917 m (6289 feet).
Highest elevation: 2265 m (7431 feet).
Elevation gain: 348 m (1260 feet).
Distance: 10 km (6.2 mi).
Time: 3:30?.
As has become usual with Daisy, the drive was fun and conversation filled. Once we turned onto Highway 40, I took advantage of my perspective as a passenger to gawk at the scenery. Nothing but a blue, cloudless sky and incredible mountains, muted by atmospheric haze, what Daisy called a pastel sky.
Along side Barrier Lake, a surprise: a brown bear browsing in the ditch. It seemed strange to find one sandwiched between a busy highway, and a busy lake. More wildlife just past Galatea: a young mountain ram decided to slow our lane. He eventually moved across the road, but looked a little confused.
At the lake, we unloaded the things we had brought out, loaded other things to be taken to the dump later, and then drove north on the Smith-Dorrien Spray Trail. By now it was late morning, and the sun was high and hot. Forecast highs for the area were around 30C, and I think it got there early.
We pulled into a busy parking lot at the Chester Day Use area around 11:30. I hopped out and heard something strange. By the time I walked around to the driver's side of the van, the air rushing from the front tire left it half flat. By the time Daisy got out to look, it was fully flat. We must have picked something up driving through the parking lot.
Daisy's first reaction was to get the camera out and document the moment. As if there was anything else we could do right then? After a little discussion of what we would need to do later, we set out.
What a difference two months makes! I'd started out on this trail back then, walking packed snow, that turned into not-so-packed snow after a kilometre or so. Now it's dry and busy with hiking traffic, here and there lined with wild strawberries (so tasty!)
We caught up with, and passed, a few groups of hikers, and were passed by one or two more. This is a great trail for kids, and there were lots. The trail starts out as an old logging road that switchbacks up the slope, later turning into a root bound trail through forest. Soon enough it levels off, passing through a couple of large meadows, criss-crossed with the branches of a mountain stream, and positively littered with wildflowers.
At the third clearing we were at Chester Lake - small, deep and dark blue, fading to brilliant green at the edges. Lunch time. We found a spot not occupied by fisherpersons and other hikers under a shady spruce. This quickly turned into an idyllic moment, with bright sun and beautiful scenery.
We no sooner had the Ziplocs of trail mix opened than a tiny striped squirrel wandered up for a handout. Quite the brazen little rodent, actually. I fished a few sunflower seeds out of my trail mix and tossed them his way, as did Daisy. After these were vacuumed into his cheek pouches, I held out three more in my hand. After a cautious approach, he sampled my finger tip. I was rather proud of myself for not flinching, and to his credit, he didn't break skin. But those tiny little teeth are sharp!
After that, he hung around, looking for more. I was a little concerned about him getting into my backpack, but he behaved. Meanwhile, the fish were coming within a few feet of our lunch stop. I'm definitely not a fish expert, but I'll guess Rainbow trout. They had pinkish gills and underbellies, but were more yellowy on top (actually, Rainbows are more greenish grey on top, I think), blending in a little with the mud and rocks near the shore. A couple were at least thirty centimetres long. And not at all shy about snapping up a sunflower seed.
Lunch done, sun block reapplied, we continued around the lake. The path was close to the water's edge, and we passed lots of people stopped for lunch or rests.
Perhaps it was my demeanor, or maybe the smell of my sunblock. One trio had a beautiful big dog, who seemed to not like me at all. His owner was already telling him to settle down before I noticed him growling. As I got up beside the group, he lunged at me, snarling, and brushed past my leg. His owner managed to call him back and hold on to him as we passed. Really, it happened so fast, I didn't even get an adrenalin rush. Daisy was a little way behind, so was not near to the action. I don't know what it was about, but we passed without much more than some growling, while his owner held him.
A small island of rock sits at the far end of the lake, joined precariously to the shore by a line of stepping stones peeking above the water. On a large boulder in the middle of this island is an inukshuk of some character. Daisy, with her fine arts training and background, was quite taken with it. It seemed to be dancing, almost, frozen in mid-twirl, its shape suggesting movement. Of course the camera was out.
Back on the shore, the path continued along a scree slope that lead up to the sloping layers of Mount Chester. One or two paths looked climbable, and we considered them for a future adventure. But the perspective changed as we continued, and we could see there was no way to ascend without equipment.
Off the scree and back into the meadow, a path snaked southward through larch and boulders. We followed this for a bit, and found a slope that looked very climbable, and we ascended a little way. The picture here shows this notch on the right.
A strange day so far. Probably due to the heat, but we had no energy for much more at this point. So we called it a day and headed back down. Lot's of people coming up still, in mid afternoon. A six month old in a backpack-like carrier stopped to charm us with her pink rimmed sunglasses and the rest of her family. And lots more kids chasing ahead of their parents, seemingly oblivious to the hear.
At the parking lot, of course, waited our little problem. Daisy backed the van a few feet so we could get under the front with the jack. Not fun. The jack wouldn't go under the frame where it was supposed to because of the low tire, so I jammed it under another point. Stupid jack design allowed almost no room to use the jack handle. It was slow going.
Just as the tire got off the ground, I noticed the jack leaning, so we wedged a couple of boards under the frame, and I moved the jack to the proper place for it. After that it went a little smoother.
Flat tire off, spare tire on, jack let down, spare tire flat. Sheesh!
Well not quite flat. There was just enough air in it, to keep the rim off the road. We decided to head back to Pocaterra, where there was a pay phone, since there's no cell service in the area. From there, we could bring Daisy's AMA gold card into play. The tire lasted about ten metres before it was totally flat.
Time for an executive decision. The van is ancient, and this was probably the only time the spare was used. Most of the paint had peeled off, but it ran fairly reliably. We kept going.
The Spray Trail is, like most gravel highways, almost all washboard roughness. We got an intimate feel for that. Even so, we made good time, never moving above 40 kph. Coming up to the junction at the Kananaskis Lakes we lost a small chunk of sidewall from the now partially shredded tire. And then right into the Pocaterra Day Use parking lot.
While Daisy was on the phone listening to how important her call to the AMA was, I checked out the remnants of the spare. It was pretty much all there, although the sidewall was worn through. The rim had been hammered pretty hard, too, and was kind of rolled outward. The smell of burnt tire was pungent, and it and the rim were radiating quite toastily.
An hour wait, and we snacked on the rest of our trail mix, photographed the damage, and generally hung out.
And finally a big flatbed truck pulled up. It didn't take long for Silas to winch the van up on his truck and tie it down. And then the long drive to Daisy's place.
Silas is an interesting guy. He lives in Banff, and drives tow truck four days a week. Other days he's out exploring, hiking, fishing, whatever outdoor adventures he can get to. But long hours too. I think we were his second trip to Calgary today, and he'd also been to Lake Louise at least once.
At Daisy's place, Silas unloaded the van, while Daisy continued photojournalizing. And after the paperwork was done, Daisy drove me back to her parents place to my car. And here I am.
For all the events, it was a pretty cool adventure. I think we both were determined to enjoy the moment, and not worry about how things were going to turn out. Another amazing hike, and some interesting extras. Can't wait to see how it goes the next time.
Having trouble downloading info from the GPS for some reason, so the following is partly from my visit two months ago, and partly from memory of today.
Chester Lake
Starting elevation: 1917 m (6289 feet).
Highest elevation: 2265 m (7431 feet).
Elevation gain: 348 m (1260 feet).
Distance: 10 km (6.2 mi).
Time: 3:30?.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Galatea
Daisy had called me earlier in the week about getting out today. We pondered several suggestions she had, and settled on this one.
I met her on the road to her place at 7:20 in the morning (it being totally dug up due to new subdivisions sprouting all around her place,) and we headed out directly. There was some concern initially about the heat, with forecast highs at around 30C, but as it turned out, temperature was not a factor.
At the Galatea parking lot, I chose a spot that I hoped would be sheltered from the sun by late afternoon. From the trailhead, it's a long downhill walk to a lovely suspension bridge over the Kananaskis River, and then we were in the forest.
This was a long lovely walk through forest, all the while gaining altitude. The trail criss-crosses Galatea Creek for almost five and a half kilometres. The Gem-Trek map says there are ten crossings, and all are the quaint half log bridges that seem to be everywhere in the Kananaskis.
At times we were deep in the forest, and then we'd be on a steep rock face, with the creek noisily rambling far below. A couple of places crossed run-off dry beds. As we gained altitude, the forest lost only a little of it's lushness.
At the fork to Guinn's Pass, we stopped to check out a new sign with a map of the area, and the "you are here" rivet. Less than a kilometre further, and we were at Lillian Lake, and the Galatea campground. Several campers were out fishing on the edge of the lake, from the many tiny clearings on it's edge. It's a beautiful spot, with the forest growing right to the edge of the deep green water.
We took the fork to the right, around the campground, and were soon in switchbacking through the forest above. Occasional views revealed nothing of any camping activity, save for an outhouse in a small clearing.
Shortly, we were out of the trees and on the edge of run-off scree, following a well used path, and then back into forest as the terrain leveled off, and began to drop to the Lower Galatea Lake. Just at the high point of this part of the path, was one of the neatest things about this high jumbly terrain. A couple of brooks sprouted out of the ground, one rushing back to Lillian Lake, the other going the other way to the Lower Galatea.
The path continued along the edge of some forest on the east end of the lake, and then continued across scree that dropped steeply to the water. This path stayed high up on the scree, maybe twenty metres above the water, but dropped almost to water level after crossing the remnants of a snow bank. And then dipped below the water.
The water level must be quite high right now. We could see the path along the edge of the lake, at times half a metre below the surface. Beyond, the depth increased swiftly, and the steep scree disappeared into the depths. This is one deep lake.
Another thing is that the Galatea lakes are an incredible deep blue, very different from the green of Lillian Lake.
At the far end of the lake, the path continued up a headwall, with mostly ground cover vegetation, and a sprinkling of trees. And over the headwall was the Upper Galatea Lake. We were about two and a half hours into the hike.
So where to go? And should we continue? Contrary to the forecast, the sky above was fully overcast, and the wind, while only a little on the brisk side, had a definite chill in it.
The slope continued upward, and was quite climbable, and we still hadn't topped 2200 metres, so up we went. At times we followed rock bands until we could get on top of them. We gained altitude quickly, over flower covered gravel and rock bands. We got on top of a ridge that climbed southward, and hid a snow filled trench that ran along the bottom of the shear wall of The Tower, which boxed in the west end of the valley.
At 2450 metres, we encountered an large inukshuk, and since it was just past noon, and the terrain started to rise steeply to the ridge along the south side of the valley, we decided it was lunch time. And with the wind picking up, time to don another layer.
The ridge we were on turns into a scree slope not far from where we stopped, and then a rockband crosses westward. It looked quite climbable, as did a notch directly south of us, again at the top of steep scree. It was tempting to see what might be on the other side, but we'd pretty much achieved what we'd set out to do for this day. So a couple of scrambles for next time.
After lunch, we went down. Straight down. Instead of retracing our steps down the ridge to the right, Daisy decided we could go directly east. It was a little intimidating, but she's an expert at finding the way, and also knows what is do-able when slopes get steep. There were some dicey moments (for me, anyway, but I didn't let on) but I managed to more or less keep up.
We switch-backed to a dry waterfall that went straight down, and looked to go almost vertical below us. Daisy picked a path to the left, and we finally got on to the meadow, still steep, but at least I didn't have to look for hand holds.
Most shocking was after we were down, Daisy looked back and marveled at what we'd descended. I think she was surprised at how impassable it looked from below. For me, I felt I'd just done the almost-impossible. Unbelievably exhilarating.
We continued across the scree to above the headwall holding in the upper lake, and again encountered a steep descent. Mostly dirt and vegetation, this, so it was easy to get footholds. But it was still something to climb down this steep face, not knowing if there would be an impassible rock band that we'd have to climb back up to get around. The lady has an impeccable trail finding talent.
We kept above the lower lake as well, crossing runoff channels in the scree after doffing the extra layers we'd put on at the inukshuk. There was a waterfall that sprouted out of the rock in the ridge, cascading down only to disappear suddenly under a snow bank still well above us. We continued, cutting straight across to the top of the headwall holding it in, where the two streams popped out of the ground.
After that it was a headlong plunge down the valley. It may be a little pathetic, but I'm quite proud of being able to keep up with Daisy. She sets a pretty brisk pace, both going up and going down.
Lots of traffic on the way down, with several people around the lower lake, and on the trail to it. Conservation officers were suddenly right behind us, but we quickly lost them as they stopped to chat with all the people heading up with fishing rods.
We cut through the campground at Lillian Lake to check it out. Lots of tents, but it seemed to be about half full. And so many along the shore of that beautiful green water.
And then it was into the forest and down, retracing our steps, and chatting about everything. We stopped at one bridge where a couple were taking each other's picture with the creek flowing out of a small canyon behind, and offered to take one of both of them.
By mid afternoon, we were back in the parking lot, by this time filled to overflowing with cars. There's something to be said for an early start.
Galatea
Starting elevation: 1551 m (5089 feet).
Highest elevation: 2458 m (8064 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1523 m (4997feet).
Elevation gain: 907 m (2976 feet).
Distance: 19.2 km (11.9 mi).
Time: 6:47.
I met her on the road to her place at 7:20 in the morning (it being totally dug up due to new subdivisions sprouting all around her place,) and we headed out directly. There was some concern initially about the heat, with forecast highs at around 30C, but as it turned out, temperature was not a factor.
At the Galatea parking lot, I chose a spot that I hoped would be sheltered from the sun by late afternoon. From the trailhead, it's a long downhill walk to a lovely suspension bridge over the Kananaskis River, and then we were in the forest.
This was a long lovely walk through forest, all the while gaining altitude. The trail criss-crosses Galatea Creek for almost five and a half kilometres. The Gem-Trek map says there are ten crossings, and all are the quaint half log bridges that seem to be everywhere in the Kananaskis.
At times we were deep in the forest, and then we'd be on a steep rock face, with the creek noisily rambling far below. A couple of places crossed run-off dry beds. As we gained altitude, the forest lost only a little of it's lushness.
At the fork to Guinn's Pass, we stopped to check out a new sign with a map of the area, and the "you are here" rivet. Less than a kilometre further, and we were at Lillian Lake, and the Galatea campground. Several campers were out fishing on the edge of the lake, from the many tiny clearings on it's edge. It's a beautiful spot, with the forest growing right to the edge of the deep green water.
We took the fork to the right, around the campground, and were soon in switchbacking through the forest above. Occasional views revealed nothing of any camping activity, save for an outhouse in a small clearing.
Shortly, we were out of the trees and on the edge of run-off scree, following a well used path, and then back into forest as the terrain leveled off, and began to drop to the Lower Galatea Lake. Just at the high point of this part of the path, was one of the neatest things about this high jumbly terrain. A couple of brooks sprouted out of the ground, one rushing back to Lillian Lake, the other going the other way to the Lower Galatea.
The path continued along the edge of some forest on the east end of the lake, and then continued across scree that dropped steeply to the water. This path stayed high up on the scree, maybe twenty metres above the water, but dropped almost to water level after crossing the remnants of a snow bank. And then dipped below the water.
The water level must be quite high right now. We could see the path along the edge of the lake, at times half a metre below the surface. Beyond, the depth increased swiftly, and the steep scree disappeared into the depths. This is one deep lake.
Another thing is that the Galatea lakes are an incredible deep blue, very different from the green of Lillian Lake.
At the far end of the lake, the path continued up a headwall, with mostly ground cover vegetation, and a sprinkling of trees. And over the headwall was the Upper Galatea Lake. We were about two and a half hours into the hike.
So where to go? And should we continue? Contrary to the forecast, the sky above was fully overcast, and the wind, while only a little on the brisk side, had a definite chill in it.
The slope continued upward, and was quite climbable, and we still hadn't topped 2200 metres, so up we went. At times we followed rock bands until we could get on top of them. We gained altitude quickly, over flower covered gravel and rock bands. We got on top of a ridge that climbed southward, and hid a snow filled trench that ran along the bottom of the shear wall of The Tower, which boxed in the west end of the valley.
At 2450 metres, we encountered an large inukshuk, and since it was just past noon, and the terrain started to rise steeply to the ridge along the south side of the valley, we decided it was lunch time. And with the wind picking up, time to don another layer.
The ridge we were on turns into a scree slope not far from where we stopped, and then a rockband crosses westward. It looked quite climbable, as did a notch directly south of us, again at the top of steep scree. It was tempting to see what might be on the other side, but we'd pretty much achieved what we'd set out to do for this day. So a couple of scrambles for next time.
After lunch, we went down. Straight down. Instead of retracing our steps down the ridge to the right, Daisy decided we could go directly east. It was a little intimidating, but she's an expert at finding the way, and also knows what is do-able when slopes get steep. There were some dicey moments (for me, anyway, but I didn't let on) but I managed to more or less keep up.
We switch-backed to a dry waterfall that went straight down, and looked to go almost vertical below us. Daisy picked a path to the left, and we finally got on to the meadow, still steep, but at least I didn't have to look for hand holds.
Most shocking was after we were down, Daisy looked back and marveled at what we'd descended. I think she was surprised at how impassable it looked from below. For me, I felt I'd just done the almost-impossible. Unbelievably exhilarating.
We continued across the scree to above the headwall holding in the upper lake, and again encountered a steep descent. Mostly dirt and vegetation, this, so it was easy to get footholds. But it was still something to climb down this steep face, not knowing if there would be an impassible rock band that we'd have to climb back up to get around. The lady has an impeccable trail finding talent.
We kept above the lower lake as well, crossing runoff channels in the scree after doffing the extra layers we'd put on at the inukshuk. There was a waterfall that sprouted out of the rock in the ridge, cascading down only to disappear suddenly under a snow bank still well above us. We continued, cutting straight across to the top of the headwall holding it in, where the two streams popped out of the ground.
After that it was a headlong plunge down the valley. It may be a little pathetic, but I'm quite proud of being able to keep up with Daisy. She sets a pretty brisk pace, both going up and going down.
Lots of traffic on the way down, with several people around the lower lake, and on the trail to it. Conservation officers were suddenly right behind us, but we quickly lost them as they stopped to chat with all the people heading up with fishing rods.
We cut through the campground at Lillian Lake to check it out. Lots of tents, but it seemed to be about half full. And so many along the shore of that beautiful green water.
And then it was into the forest and down, retracing our steps, and chatting about everything. We stopped at one bridge where a couple were taking each other's picture with the creek flowing out of a small canyon behind, and offered to take one of both of them.
By mid afternoon, we were back in the parking lot, by this time filled to overflowing with cars. There's something to be said for an early start.
Galatea
Starting elevation: 1551 m (5089 feet).
Highest elevation: 2458 m (8064 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1523 m (4997feet).
Elevation gain: 907 m (2976 feet).
Distance: 19.2 km (11.9 mi).
Time: 6:47.
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