Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Fortress, Again
This wasn't in the plans, but that's where I ended up. I was planning for Gusty peak, and was definitely headed that way.
I was at the Chester Lake parking lot at about 9:30. That's definitely a little later than I like starting, but that gave time for the crowds to get there and chase out the bears. I started up the trail with my pack and poles almost as soon as I got out of the car.
Five minutes later I turned around and headed back. And five minutes after that, I started again, this time with my GPS. I can never get out the door, it seems, but that I have to go back for something I've forgotten.
I had a ton of energy this morning. I set a fast pace and was soon off the ski trails and on the path to Chester Lake. As I neared the lake, I caught up to a couple of guys checking their maps, and then another gentleman I had passed earlier caught up with us.
We discussed our various plans for the day, and the one that caught up to us pointed to the valley to the west of where I thought I wanted to go, saying that the grassy slope up to a low peak in the foreground was Gusty, but I was pretty sure that the craggy ridge humping upward just east of that was the one I wanted. I'd forgotten to bring Alan Kane's scrambling book, but one of the Mount Chester guys had photocopies of the pages relevant to the area, and offered me the one on Gusty.
But I took the directions for where I should go, and charged up a trail just past where we crossed a brook emptying into the lake. A few minutes in, I came on a couple of massive rocks in a clearing, and decided to check out the maps and Kane's write-up on Gusty. It talks about taking the same route as for The Fortress, and skirting a small lake opposite the Fortress-Chester col, so I was pretty sure I was on the wrong trail.
I backtracked to the lake, and continued along it's edge until the trail that branched off toward Fortress. I still had a ton of energy and my pace was pretty aggressive. I was on top of the headwall in no time, and a little ways on I passed a rock band that starts in the valley and goes all the way to the top of the ridge to Gusty. After that I started to edge up the scree on the left side of the valley.
I managed to get up fairly high, fifty or sixty metres above the bottom of the valley. I crossed a couple of snow fields, which were a lot more solid than I thought they would be. Close to the end of the valley, I found myself atop a scree covered ridge that sloped to the bottom of the valley, ending close in under the shadow of Chester.
From this vantage, the view of Gusty was almost identical to the picture in Kane's book, even to the snow fields on the scree separated by rock bands. It looked wicked steep, and the snow I would have to climb covered several hundred metres of the scree. Meanwhile the slope up to the Fortress-Chester col also looked wicked steep, with a broad snow field down the middle. But the scree was clear on either side.
I found the look of the snow on Gusty to be too intimidating, so I descended across the snow field in front of me and crossed over to the east side. I'd decided that Fortress would be a reasonable objective if I couldn't do Gusty.
Wicked steep. The scree wasn't too loose, but it did slide out from underfoot, making me feel like I was going two steps forward and one step back. I'd taken the the left side of the snow field, all small gravelly stuff in a narrow band between the snow and the slab on the flank of Fortress.
All that extra energy I had, I pretty much used up here. This stuff was awful. About two thirds of the way up, the snow had melted down the middle, leaving a crotch of scree. It looked a little less loose than what I was on, and I only had about twenty metres of snow to cross to get to it. I gingerly stepped on the snow.
It was pretty firm, and gave enough to let me get a good footing. I had worried about slipping on the stuff. This slope is better than 45 degress, and I would have picked up an awful lot of speed had I lost my footing. Plus, at the bottom, the snow ended about 50 metres before the slope did, so a slide would have ended with a nasty road rash.
The scree in the middle was a little better, but it was still exhausting working my way up. The slope rounded a little toward the top so that the steepness eased off, but by then I wasn't noticing that. I finally gained the col, and parked on a small rock pile to rest, re-hydrate and re-energize.
After a few handfuls of trail mix, I gathered up and started up. The other side of the col was completely covered in snow, and there was even a small cornice stretching across the top. I had watched another hiker descending toward me as I rested, and I met him a hundred metres up slope.
He had come up the Headwall Lakes side and climbed the snow. The whole valley on that side was pretty snowy, and what was exposed was looking wet and boggy. He hadn't enjoyed the snow much.
After that, it was slog to the top. I was pretty much done from the climb on the scree. The high energy levels I'd experienced earlier were completely gone. I did most of this climb with head down, watching the wolf spiders scurrying underfoot. Occasionally I remembered to look up and look around, and check the GPS for altitude. The summit block seemed small and far away.
As you climb this last three hundred metres from the col, you zig-zag across a scree field bordered by a rock band. When the rock band ends, the slope narrows, with bare slab rolling away to the left, and a sheer drop on the right. The path approaches the drop, and the view is gorgeous. It looks down on the end of the Headwall Lakes valley, and over the col between Fortress and the un-named peak to the east. Past the col is the chalet and other buildings of The Fortress ski area.
Behind, Mount Chester splits the view with Chester Lake a deep blue-green to the right, and the blue Headwall Lakes surrounded by snow fields on the left. And at this angle, the route to the top of Gusty looks not bad at all. It's likely not nearly as steep as what I'd climbed to the col, but that snow field would have still troubled me. It definitely stays on my list.
I followed the trail to the left of the summit block and found the notch to climb to the top. And there I was.
Mount Kidd to the north was mostly bare, and the trail up to Guinn's Pass stood out like marker on paper. Past that, Mount Bogard was free of snow. To the northwest was Gusty, Galatea and The Tower. Straight west and far way, Assiniboine was dark and pointy, with large snowfields across its northeast flank. Directly south, Joffre, another 3500 metre monster, was a broad, smooth, unblemished white. I donned my light fleece to keep out the chilly breeze coming up from the col.
I actually spent quite some time up there, snacking, looking around, checking maps and scanning with the field glasses. At 3000 metres even (my GPS said 3024), Fortress is high enough for some spectacular views.
My legs ached and I felt used up. I wasn't looking forward much to the descent. But I finally packed up and headed down. Scrambling down to the top of the trail, I found that the way I'd come up the last five metres was probably a lot harder to climb than where I found to go down. My trail finding skills need work.
A long trudge downward. About a third of the way down, I noticed a large crowd climbing the snow on the Headwall Lakes side, at least six on the big snowfield, and three or four more coming up beside it. When I was just about at the bottom, a group of six passed on the direct route, while I was zig-zagging to the side. Another couple followed them, and then the guy who mis-directed me to Gusty. At the col, another group of seven more started up just as I reached it. It was going to be crowded up there.
I decided to descend from the col on the other side of the snow field. The first half was loose soil and small gravel, and I covered that quickly. But that gave way to loose rocky stuff that at times would slide treacherously, carrying me with it. On the other side of the snow, a couple were making there way upward. She was scrambling up the slab beside the scree, which seemed to me a little dangerous. Her male companion was trudging up the scree twenty metres below. A troubling thing was that occasionally he would unleash a barrage of rock, that on the slab would gather a lot of speed. I watched the rock rollall the way to the bottom; good-sized stuff that would kill if it hit someone. I hoped he was only dislodging it accidently.
On my side the heavy stuff would also occasionally roll a long ways downslope. Some large rocks bounced on to the snow, where they would eventually plow a trench too deep for them to continue. It was slow going. At the bottom I had to cross a couple of snow fields, and in a couple of places I sank pretty deep.
On the way down the valley, I stayed near the bottom. I had to cross several snow field and a fair amount of flowing water. By now everything ached and I was tired. I finally gained the headwall, and then faced about two hundred metres of descent across rock bands and through forest. At the bottom I crossed the meadow, and climbed a short ways into forest before descending to the lake.
After a short stop to hydrate and snack, I continued on. From here it was a straight trudge to the parking lot, about an hour of plodding through forest and down ski trails. I thought briefly about soaking my feet in the creek that paralleled the first part of the trail and skirted the parking lot, but it was late and I was tired, hungry, and ready to head home.
This one was challenging this time. The scree was a tough climb and a tough descent. And I'd pushed pretty hard at the start.
The Fortress
Starting elevation: 1906 m (6253 feet).
Highest elevation: 3023 m (9918 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1906 m (6253 feet).
Elevation gain: 1117 m (3665 feet).
Distance: 18.1 km (11.2 mi).
Time: 7:56.
I was at the Chester Lake parking lot at about 9:30. That's definitely a little later than I like starting, but that gave time for the crowds to get there and chase out the bears. I started up the trail with my pack and poles almost as soon as I got out of the car.
Five minutes later I turned around and headed back. And five minutes after that, I started again, this time with my GPS. I can never get out the door, it seems, but that I have to go back for something I've forgotten.
I had a ton of energy this morning. I set a fast pace and was soon off the ski trails and on the path to Chester Lake. As I neared the lake, I caught up to a couple of guys checking their maps, and then another gentleman I had passed earlier caught up with us.
We discussed our various plans for the day, and the one that caught up to us pointed to the valley to the west of where I thought I wanted to go, saying that the grassy slope up to a low peak in the foreground was Gusty, but I was pretty sure that the craggy ridge humping upward just east of that was the one I wanted. I'd forgotten to bring Alan Kane's scrambling book, but one of the Mount Chester guys had photocopies of the pages relevant to the area, and offered me the one on Gusty.
But I took the directions for where I should go, and charged up a trail just past where we crossed a brook emptying into the lake. A few minutes in, I came on a couple of massive rocks in a clearing, and decided to check out the maps and Kane's write-up on Gusty. It talks about taking the same route as for The Fortress, and skirting a small lake opposite the Fortress-Chester col, so I was pretty sure I was on the wrong trail.
I backtracked to the lake, and continued along it's edge until the trail that branched off toward Fortress. I still had a ton of energy and my pace was pretty aggressive. I was on top of the headwall in no time, and a little ways on I passed a rock band that starts in the valley and goes all the way to the top of the ridge to Gusty. After that I started to edge up the scree on the left side of the valley.
I managed to get up fairly high, fifty or sixty metres above the bottom of the valley. I crossed a couple of snow fields, which were a lot more solid than I thought they would be. Close to the end of the valley, I found myself atop a scree covered ridge that sloped to the bottom of the valley, ending close in under the shadow of Chester.
From this vantage, the view of Gusty was almost identical to the picture in Kane's book, even to the snow fields on the scree separated by rock bands. It looked wicked steep, and the snow I would have to climb covered several hundred metres of the scree. Meanwhile the slope up to the Fortress-Chester col also looked wicked steep, with a broad snow field down the middle. But the scree was clear on either side.
I found the look of the snow on Gusty to be too intimidating, so I descended across the snow field in front of me and crossed over to the east side. I'd decided that Fortress would be a reasonable objective if I couldn't do Gusty.
Wicked steep. The scree wasn't too loose, but it did slide out from underfoot, making me feel like I was going two steps forward and one step back. I'd taken the the left side of the snow field, all small gravelly stuff in a narrow band between the snow and the slab on the flank of Fortress.
All that extra energy I had, I pretty much used up here. This stuff was awful. About two thirds of the way up, the snow had melted down the middle, leaving a crotch of scree. It looked a little less loose than what I was on, and I only had about twenty metres of snow to cross to get to it. I gingerly stepped on the snow.
It was pretty firm, and gave enough to let me get a good footing. I had worried about slipping on the stuff. This slope is better than 45 degress, and I would have picked up an awful lot of speed had I lost my footing. Plus, at the bottom, the snow ended about 50 metres before the slope did, so a slide would have ended with a nasty road rash.
The scree in the middle was a little better, but it was still exhausting working my way up. The slope rounded a little toward the top so that the steepness eased off, but by then I wasn't noticing that. I finally gained the col, and parked on a small rock pile to rest, re-hydrate and re-energize.
After a few handfuls of trail mix, I gathered up and started up. The other side of the col was completely covered in snow, and there was even a small cornice stretching across the top. I had watched another hiker descending toward me as I rested, and I met him a hundred metres up slope.
He had come up the Headwall Lakes side and climbed the snow. The whole valley on that side was pretty snowy, and what was exposed was looking wet and boggy. He hadn't enjoyed the snow much.
After that, it was slog to the top. I was pretty much done from the climb on the scree. The high energy levels I'd experienced earlier were completely gone. I did most of this climb with head down, watching the wolf spiders scurrying underfoot. Occasionally I remembered to look up and look around, and check the GPS for altitude. The summit block seemed small and far away.
As you climb this last three hundred metres from the col, you zig-zag across a scree field bordered by a rock band. When the rock band ends, the slope narrows, with bare slab rolling away to the left, and a sheer drop on the right. The path approaches the drop, and the view is gorgeous. It looks down on the end of the Headwall Lakes valley, and over the col between Fortress and the un-named peak to the east. Past the col is the chalet and other buildings of The Fortress ski area.
Behind, Mount Chester splits the view with Chester Lake a deep blue-green to the right, and the blue Headwall Lakes surrounded by snow fields on the left. And at this angle, the route to the top of Gusty looks not bad at all. It's likely not nearly as steep as what I'd climbed to the col, but that snow field would have still troubled me. It definitely stays on my list.
I followed the trail to the left of the summit block and found the notch to climb to the top. And there I was.
Mount Kidd to the north was mostly bare, and the trail up to Guinn's Pass stood out like marker on paper. Past that, Mount Bogard was free of snow. To the northwest was Gusty, Galatea and The Tower. Straight west and far way, Assiniboine was dark and pointy, with large snowfields across its northeast flank. Directly south, Joffre, another 3500 metre monster, was a broad, smooth, unblemished white. I donned my light fleece to keep out the chilly breeze coming up from the col.
I actually spent quite some time up there, snacking, looking around, checking maps and scanning with the field glasses. At 3000 metres even (my GPS said 3024), Fortress is high enough for some spectacular views.
My legs ached and I felt used up. I wasn't looking forward much to the descent. But I finally packed up and headed down. Scrambling down to the top of the trail, I found that the way I'd come up the last five metres was probably a lot harder to climb than where I found to go down. My trail finding skills need work.
A long trudge downward. About a third of the way down, I noticed a large crowd climbing the snow on the Headwall Lakes side, at least six on the big snowfield, and three or four more coming up beside it. When I was just about at the bottom, a group of six passed on the direct route, while I was zig-zagging to the side. Another couple followed them, and then the guy who mis-directed me to Gusty. At the col, another group of seven more started up just as I reached it. It was going to be crowded up there.
I decided to descend from the col on the other side of the snow field. The first half was loose soil and small gravel, and I covered that quickly. But that gave way to loose rocky stuff that at times would slide treacherously, carrying me with it. On the other side of the snow, a couple were making there way upward. She was scrambling up the slab beside the scree, which seemed to me a little dangerous. Her male companion was trudging up the scree twenty metres below. A troubling thing was that occasionally he would unleash a barrage of rock, that on the slab would gather a lot of speed. I watched the rock rollall the way to the bottom; good-sized stuff that would kill if it hit someone. I hoped he was only dislodging it accidently.
On my side the heavy stuff would also occasionally roll a long ways downslope. Some large rocks bounced on to the snow, where they would eventually plow a trench too deep for them to continue. It was slow going. At the bottom I had to cross a couple of snow fields, and in a couple of places I sank pretty deep.
On the way down the valley, I stayed near the bottom. I had to cross several snow field and a fair amount of flowing water. By now everything ached and I was tired. I finally gained the headwall, and then faced about two hundred metres of descent across rock bands and through forest. At the bottom I crossed the meadow, and climbed a short ways into forest before descending to the lake.
After a short stop to hydrate and snack, I continued on. From here it was a straight trudge to the parking lot, about an hour of plodding through forest and down ski trails. I thought briefly about soaking my feet in the creek that paralleled the first part of the trail and skirted the parking lot, but it was late and I was tired, hungry, and ready to head home.
This one was challenging this time. The scree was a tough climb and a tough descent. And I'd pushed pretty hard at the start.
The Fortress
Starting elevation: 1906 m (6253 feet).
Highest elevation: 3023 m (9918 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1906 m (6253 feet).
Elevation gain: 1117 m (3665 feet).
Distance: 18.1 km (11.2 mi).
Time: 7:56.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Ha Ling Spring Tune Up
Yeah, I know, I'm about two months late in getting started this year. Not sure why I haven't had hiking and scrambling at a higher priority, but there you are.
Anyway, I've been thinking about doing this for a couple of weeks. I was out of town last week, and had stuff going on this last weekend, so if it wasn't for Canada Day falling in the middle of the week, I would still not be started this year.
I was at a deserted Goat Creek parking lot just after 8:00 and wasted no time starting up the trail. It was a muggy, close day and in the forest, with no breeze, I was quickly at the hot and sweaty mark.
There wasn't much out of the ordinary as I climbed as aggressively as my lungs would let me. I wanted a workout and I pushed hard.
At about 2200 metres, the trees thinned and the wind was making itself felt. It was a cool enough of a day, and that wind had a little bit of a bite. I kept at it, and as the trail split into many in the scree, I kept to the uppermost. I wanted to gain the col as quick as possible.
Across the way, the east peak of Mount Rundle was swaddled in a lenticular cloud, sculpted into a flying saucer shape by the wind. Mount Lawrence Grassi was also topped by cloud. Both were looking a little dark and dreary.
As I crested the col, the wind hit with icicles. Not really strong like the last time, but it was cool, and I was wearing a technical tee, which was absolutely no barrier to the wind. I dug out my fleece.
I clambered up from the col along the edge of the bowl to the top of Ha Ling, and stood to check out the view. Grotto and Lady Macdonald were mere shadows in the haze, as was the view toward Dead Man's Flats. Canmore lay below, looking awfully quiet for a town about to put on a Canada Day parade. I found a spot to sit, and dug out my lunch and field glasses. Really early for a lunch, but I was hungry.
I could see nothing much moving down below. A few cars roaming the streets, and one or two coming up the road around the reservoir to the Nordic Centre. A chubby rodent with a short tail and striking multi-coloured stripe down each side, edged toward me, looking for a handout. Which reminded me that I need to get some trail mix. (Not that I share with these critters.)
Several other squirrels started to pop up out of the scree. These were smaller and had several stripes distributed evenly across their backs. Meanwhile the original had gone under the boulders, and I could hear him shifting pebbles around.
I'd cooled down in the breeze, and decided to start moving again. I went a little farther along the peak to peek down on the damn above the Grassi Lakes, and used the field glasses to check out the trails up Mount Rundle. Then I backtracked to the col.
At the col, rain started to come down just enough for me to need my rain jacket. The cloud still hid the top of Lawrence Grassi, and behind me, more cloud was rushing up between Rundle and Ha Ling like a serpent hunting for lunch.
Up the other side from the col, I reached a small meadow, which rose up to a point overlooking the town. I began to head toward it, and coming up on a flatter part of the meadow, a silvery-brown critter roused itself to stare at me. We looked at each other for awhile, then I advanced up the slope. The marmot decided he was shy and slipped over the edge down a rock cut. I watched until he disappeared under an overhang.
I'd been up on this side the first time I came up, and it's a good vantage to watch the rock climbers coming up the face of Ha Ling. I could see no one this time, but the spot I'd found was out of the wind, so I just sat and gazed over the valley. Meanwhile the rain kept up, kind of spitty, but easy to ignore. I love the clothing I bought last year for hiking, as it was totally repelling the water.
One of the things about being on top of a mountain is that no spot is entirely comfortable to sit on for too long, and I got up and headed back to the meadow. On the other side a scree slope showed several faint animal trails that lead to a notch, and a lone goat wandering high above them.
I crossed the meadow, climbing a small rock band to the scree. From that side the trails completely disappeared. I started a traverse to the notch, and the goat moved that way too, looking over his shoulder at me every once in awhile. Eventually I noticed one of the trails a dozen metres below me and I worked my way down. When I looked up again, the goat was gone.
About half way across, the scree thinned to reveal hard clay, which was a little to slippery for me to trust my footing on in the rain. Thirty metres below, a broad ledge jutted out of the scree, green and tastefully decorated with a couple of small pines. Another marmot wandered past the tree to sprawl near the edge of the lawn, overlooking the chasm below.
I made my way down to the ledge, and the marmot dropped over the edge. Once I got down to the grass, I peered over the edge to see him looking back at me from a small spur several metres below. Across the way, two or three waterfalls plunged noisily down the side of Lawrence Grassi from small snowbanks dotting the side, to disappear in the scree below.
I climbed back up to the meadow, and headed back down to the col. Two gentlemen had stopped there, to tie a large flag to one of their trekking poles. One of them had matching boxers on, with the maple leaf strategically placed. We talked for awhile, then I continued on down, while headed up toward the meadow.
A foursome with dogs passed on the trail to the peak. Later, three young girls were passing the tree line. I was surprised I hadn't seen anyone before this. I would have thought the locals would have been up on the holiday.
Once in the trees, I was out of the rain and the wind. I stripped off the rain jacket and fleece and stuffed them in my bag. I passed two more couples, and near the bottom met two friends. I had talked to Carla about organizing a group hike, and had suggested this one. Now her and her boyfriend were checking it out. I'll likely see them again next weekend at the marathon - we're both running the half.
At the parking lot, a dozen cars were sprinkled along its length. I tossed my stuff in and drove back toward Canmore. At the three-way stop, a young lady in a safety vest directed me toward the Three Sisters Parkway, as the Canada Day parade had stoppered the downtown. Not having gone that way, it was an interesting drive, to the TransCanada and home.
Ha Ling
Starting elevation: 1672 m (5486 feet).
Highest elevation: 2484 m (8150 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1672 m (5486 feet).
Elevation gain: 812 m (2664 feet).
Distance: 7.8 km (4.8 mi).
Time: 4:11.
Anyway, I've been thinking about doing this for a couple of weeks. I was out of town last week, and had stuff going on this last weekend, so if it wasn't for Canada Day falling in the middle of the week, I would still not be started this year.
I was at a deserted Goat Creek parking lot just after 8:00 and wasted no time starting up the trail. It was a muggy, close day and in the forest, with no breeze, I was quickly at the hot and sweaty mark.
There wasn't much out of the ordinary as I climbed as aggressively as my lungs would let me. I wanted a workout and I pushed hard.
At about 2200 metres, the trees thinned and the wind was making itself felt. It was a cool enough of a day, and that wind had a little bit of a bite. I kept at it, and as the trail split into many in the scree, I kept to the uppermost. I wanted to gain the col as quick as possible.
Across the way, the east peak of Mount Rundle was swaddled in a lenticular cloud, sculpted into a flying saucer shape by the wind. Mount Lawrence Grassi was also topped by cloud. Both were looking a little dark and dreary.
As I crested the col, the wind hit with icicles. Not really strong like the last time, but it was cool, and I was wearing a technical tee, which was absolutely no barrier to the wind. I dug out my fleece.
I clambered up from the col along the edge of the bowl to the top of Ha Ling, and stood to check out the view. Grotto and Lady Macdonald were mere shadows in the haze, as was the view toward Dead Man's Flats. Canmore lay below, looking awfully quiet for a town about to put on a Canada Day parade. I found a spot to sit, and dug out my lunch and field glasses. Really early for a lunch, but I was hungry.
I could see nothing much moving down below. A few cars roaming the streets, and one or two coming up the road around the reservoir to the Nordic Centre. A chubby rodent with a short tail and striking multi-coloured stripe down each side, edged toward me, looking for a handout. Which reminded me that I need to get some trail mix. (Not that I share with these critters.)
Several other squirrels started to pop up out of the scree. These were smaller and had several stripes distributed evenly across their backs. Meanwhile the original had gone under the boulders, and I could hear him shifting pebbles around.
I'd cooled down in the breeze, and decided to start moving again. I went a little farther along the peak to peek down on the damn above the Grassi Lakes, and used the field glasses to check out the trails up Mount Rundle. Then I backtracked to the col.
At the col, rain started to come down just enough for me to need my rain jacket. The cloud still hid the top of Lawrence Grassi, and behind me, more cloud was rushing up between Rundle and Ha Ling like a serpent hunting for lunch.
Up the other side from the col, I reached a small meadow, which rose up to a point overlooking the town. I began to head toward it, and coming up on a flatter part of the meadow, a silvery-brown critter roused itself to stare at me. We looked at each other for awhile, then I advanced up the slope. The marmot decided he was shy and slipped over the edge down a rock cut. I watched until he disappeared under an overhang.
I'd been up on this side the first time I came up, and it's a good vantage to watch the rock climbers coming up the face of Ha Ling. I could see no one this time, but the spot I'd found was out of the wind, so I just sat and gazed over the valley. Meanwhile the rain kept up, kind of spitty, but easy to ignore. I love the clothing I bought last year for hiking, as it was totally repelling the water.
One of the things about being on top of a mountain is that no spot is entirely comfortable to sit on for too long, and I got up and headed back to the meadow. On the other side a scree slope showed several faint animal trails that lead to a notch, and a lone goat wandering high above them.
I crossed the meadow, climbing a small rock band to the scree. From that side the trails completely disappeared. I started a traverse to the notch, and the goat moved that way too, looking over his shoulder at me every once in awhile. Eventually I noticed one of the trails a dozen metres below me and I worked my way down. When I looked up again, the goat was gone.
About half way across, the scree thinned to reveal hard clay, which was a little to slippery for me to trust my footing on in the rain. Thirty metres below, a broad ledge jutted out of the scree, green and tastefully decorated with a couple of small pines. Another marmot wandered past the tree to sprawl near the edge of the lawn, overlooking the chasm below.
I made my way down to the ledge, and the marmot dropped over the edge. Once I got down to the grass, I peered over the edge to see him looking back at me from a small spur several metres below. Across the way, two or three waterfalls plunged noisily down the side of Lawrence Grassi from small snowbanks dotting the side, to disappear in the scree below.
I climbed back up to the meadow, and headed back down to the col. Two gentlemen had stopped there, to tie a large flag to one of their trekking poles. One of them had matching boxers on, with the maple leaf strategically placed. We talked for awhile, then I continued on down, while headed up toward the meadow.
A foursome with dogs passed on the trail to the peak. Later, three young girls were passing the tree line. I was surprised I hadn't seen anyone before this. I would have thought the locals would have been up on the holiday.
Once in the trees, I was out of the rain and the wind. I stripped off the rain jacket and fleece and stuffed them in my bag. I passed two more couples, and near the bottom met two friends. I had talked to Carla about organizing a group hike, and had suggested this one. Now her and her boyfriend were checking it out. I'll likely see them again next weekend at the marathon - we're both running the half.
At the parking lot, a dozen cars were sprinkled along its length. I tossed my stuff in and drove back toward Canmore. At the three-way stop, a young lady in a safety vest directed me toward the Three Sisters Parkway, as the Canada Day parade had stoppered the downtown. Not having gone that way, it was an interesting drive, to the TransCanada and home.
Ha Ling
Starting elevation: 1672 m (5486 feet).
Highest elevation: 2484 m (8150 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1672 m (5486 feet).
Elevation gain: 812 m (2664 feet).
Distance: 7.8 km (4.8 mi).
Time: 4:11.
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