Book Review: Summit Tales - Early Adventures in the Canadian Rockies

I haven't really mentioned many hiking books here, but I've been reading so much outdoors material lately it seems like a crime not to. I alternate between regional, worldwide, current and historical in my reading, so I'm somewhat all over the map... literally and figuratively.

While mountain climbing is not something I've done, early exploration of the Canadian Rockies is a big favorite topic for me. How did people manage to climb such rocky peaks in the early 1900s without the benefit of the equipment we have today?How were maps drawn, weather monitored? How did it feel to discover unknown (to the white man anyway) peaks and passes? Did women climb?

Summit Tales - Early Adventures in the Canadian Rockies shines a light on this topic and tells of the amazing people who set out to chart and photograph the Canadian Rockies, and became some of North America's first mountaineers along the way.

Mountains were not originally climbed for pleasure, but for science. They were scaled for sample gathering, early photography, glacier research or for creating maps. The hardy men (and women) who climbed these peaks did so with nothing more than ropes and ice axes for equipment, and boots with nails driven into the soles for hiking boots, often lugging pounds of 1900-era surveying equipment.

Many photos even show the men happily walking along a treacherous ridge while calming smoking a pipe!

In fact when mountaineering began to get "sporty" and there was the inevitable fatality, there was a country-wide outcry to ban mountain climbing outright. There were only 2 deaths attributed to falls in the first 30 years of climbing in the Canadian Rockies, due in large part to the Swiss guides brought in to ensure safe climbing.

Summit Tales introduces us to the people who helped shape the Rockies by discovering and naming the peaks and passes we all love today. There were definitely some characters and personality from all walks of life (largely European, but the Americans made their mark as well), and while not all are models of good behavior -- or even all that likable -- their tales and politics are fascinating to read.

Only a precious few women make the cut, but they are there. As astounding as it is to see photos of men on a peak, perfectly dressed in hats and suits for the camera, it's even more astounding to see the women dressed to the nines as well, wearing boots that I'm sure were intended for anything but hiking.

Most of the history covered here is from about 1890 to 1925, and if there's one complaint about the book is that with each notable climber separated into his own story, it's tough to gauge which climber's story is intertwined with another's. Some climber's groups seemed almost dependent on each other, while others' seemed to exist in their own bubble.

Fans of the backcountry around Lake Louise and the Icefields Parkway will enjoy this for the history of this magnficent area. I liked it purely as a outdoors fan and local history buff, while climber will probably be interested in the roots of the area and the politics and exploits surrounding the the first ascents of many peaks. There's even a little for photographers as there is plenty of description of climbers lugging heavy load of surveying and photography equipment to the top.

Photos of the area over a hundred years ago are alone worth picking up the book.

I believe it's out of print now, but the local library has quite a few copies, and Amazon has used copies for sale.

Stanley and Redfish Lake, ID -- September 24, 2008

This isn't so much about a hiking trail as it is about a woefully unknown area in central Idaho near a small town called Stanley. Stanley isn't even a town in the traditional sense -- it's more of a village, a crossroads, but a delightful one.

Though we'd been through Stanley many times (it's about an hour North of Ketchum/Sun Valley), we'd never actually *been* there. We'd never stopped, turned off the highway, checked out the area.

For starters, we turned down Highway 21, and then turned into a campground and day use area called Stanley Lake. It being late September, it was pretty deserted. That's the only possible way this camp site, possibly one of the most amazing ones in the state, could still be open:



The view from that camp site:



Looking down Stanley Lake:



Just north of Stanley Lake, the mountains in fall:



Noooooo, not another Centennial trail!!



Driving back to Stanley..... the sage, the fall colours, and the amazing Sawtooth Mountains in the background (look at the tops of the mountain and the thin, sharp looking ridges.... hence the name Sawtooth):







Approaching Stanley from the north. The buildings are actually officially part of "Lower Stanley":



A look at Stanley from down the Salmon River:



Just down Highway 75 from Stanley is the always amazing Redfish Lake -- a popular recreation area and beach. During the summer, this is one of the most popular lakes around. There are a number of hiking trails in the area, plus quite a few equestrian and mountain biking opportunities. There are camping facilities, plus log cabins that can be rented. There are a number of canoes, boats and other water toys available for rent. In other words, the place is a zoo. In the fall, it's a little calmer (and colder):



End of season sale at the General Store. Note half-empty parking lot in background.



The Redfish Lake Lodge:



What a lonely looking beach:



There was no one working the rental counter, but the boats were still out. A summertime resort takes on such a different feel when fall hits:



Driving south on Highway 75, all alone in the world:



If you looked quickly at the sage-covered hills, it almost looked like they were on fire. It's not the fall colours of New England, but in a landscape that is generally nothing but shades of brown, the colour stood out:



Sawtooth Mountains:





Looking down over the valley we'd just driven through.





Approaching Ketchum, and seeing our friend Baldy in the distance:

Bald Mountain, Ketchum, Idaho -- September 23, 2008

When the Hip Hiker household decides to seek out peace and quiet away from home, the road usually takes us to a little town in Idaho called Ketchum.... also known the as town right next to Sun Valley. It's a winter playground for most, but Dave and I have only ever been there in the summer. It's our favorite summer getaway.

And the hiking is amazing.

For years we've been wanting to tackle Bald Mountain -- known affectionately as Baldy -- the ski hill that looms over the Ketchum/Sun Valley area. Every year we've turned back. No matter how you approach it, hiking up a ski hill is a formidable task.

This was going to be the year. No matter what.

We approached Baldy from the Warm Springs side. This was excellent strategy, since our condo was only a few blocks away and close enough to limp home to once the hike was over.

From the bottom of the ski hill.... the Warm Spring lodge.. beautiful building:



Looking down at Warm Springs from about 15 minutes up the hill. Those are the snow making guns along the trail. We took a service road up the hill because we thought it would be easier. As you can see, it wasn't.



The upside to climbing straight up a mountain is how quickly you gain height. Looking north east, and down at the maintenance shed about 45 minutes into the hike.



The "more difficult" made me laugh.



Peeking through the trees at Sun Valley Road, north of Sun Valley.



I'm used to the Rockies, but this is pretty amazing to me....



A look at the town of Ketchum, with Sun Valley in the background.



Another look at Ketchum and Sun Valley



Looking east, including Hyndman Peak



Same angle... I just love the softness of the sage covered mountains in the foreground:





In 2007, the area was struck by the Castle Rock fire. The area of Warm Springs was evacuated as the flames reached Baldy and threatened many homes. The trail took us past some of the fire damage on the northwest side





Looking west at more velvety hills.. can't get enough... some of the fire damage can be seen right in front:



Looking northwest.... up high now..



Wow.



We made it to the top! And Dave was really happy about it.



Ski lifts at the top. The sign says elevation 9010 feet.



Ketchum/Sun Valley again:



Another look at the burned area:





More to come from Ketchum....

Coalmine -- September 14, 2008

After the muscle strain that was Centennial Ridge, there was no way I was going on anything more than a gentle stroll this weekend. However, I did find myself drawn back to the same area.

I've mentioned before that I'm a bit of a coal mining history geek. I've had my eye on a trail in the Kananaskis area that leads to a reclaimed mining site, and it just happened to be a turn-off from the same trail as Centennial Ridge. Passing by it the week before just whetted my appetite, so David and I returned to the scene of last week's crime.

Plus I wanted David to see just how bad Centennial was.

How bad? Again, here's the hiking sign, this time with a "normal" hiking sign. The hiking guy that looks like he's stepping up an enormous hill is not exaggerating:



The history I have about this area is brief: Coal was discovered in the early 1900s, but lack of access roads made mining the area less than viable. By the late 40s, an access road had been built and strip mining began in earnest. After a year the operation went underground due a particularly thick seam in the mountain. The mine was in operation for 5 years before freight costs got too high and the demand for coal briquettes lessened.

This trail isn't particularly well marked, but I could tell we were getting close:



When the trail starting to go from dirt under our feet to this, we knew we had to be in the area:



Even the hills around us showed the sign of the "other" black gold:



However, once at the end of this brief hike, there's really nothing left to see, which is great on the reclamation side.... not so interesting on the history side:



I did notice some coal cars sitting near the trailhead for Ribbon Creek (on the other side of the parking lot), so there's still more to discover about this area....

Centennial Ridge -- September 7, 2008

Centennial Ridge: South approach. Take Highway 40 south to Ribbon Day Use Parking Area. Begin at the Hidden Trail trailhead. Turn left onto Centennial Ridge Trail about 0.2 km in.

I still can't think about this hike without getting chills. Maybe it was the strange weather conditions where we literally saw four seasons in one day. Maybe it was the fact it took us over 5 hours to go 4.5 km. Perhaps it was simply the magnitude of the hike that we didn't fully appreciate until we were back at the trailhead, but this was a banner hike.

Some background: Centennial Ridge was built in 1967 to celebrate Canada's Centennial year (seems fairly logical). At 2819m/9249ft, it is the highest maintained trail in the Canadian Rockies.

And it feels like it. The full ridge walk is approximately 17 km, but most choose to approach it from the south side and return the same way (13.8 km return). The north approach is longer and steeper, but more shaded (21 km return).

It is not for the first time hiker. I'm not even sure it's for the intermediate hiker, but it's certainly a feeling of accomplishment no matter how far you get. A little bit of scrambling is required.

As we started out, the day was perfect. A sunny fall morning, with just the hint of cloud cover. Mount Kidd looked especially inviting from the trailhead:



This sign should have been our first warning. Do the icons on these signs usually look like they're marching as opposed to hiking?



As we climbed, the cloud cover looked amazing. I believe this is Ribbon Peak:



Looking across the valley:



As we got higher, the peaks poking through the cloud cover got increasingly inspiring:





One of the most taxing things about the Centennial hike is the false summits. You think you're getting to the top, but instead it's just another step along the way. It's not even a plateau... it just keeps climbing. This is a spot where we thought we'd catch a break, but were proven wrong. At this point, we were also starting to get awfully close to those clouds...



It was so green and surprisingly humid for above or near the treeline. It was also a long way down:



Then suddenly, we were hiking right into the clouds:



To the south of us the view started to open up, though Bogart Tower is blocked by the clouds:



Hiking into the mist!



The mist would come and go, but it moved quickly! We would go from clear skies to surrounded by fog in a matter of seconds. Here's another wall of fog moving in on us:




As we hit a bit of a plateau, we were free of the mist, but found a new novelty...(at least then) snow!







(For some reason this was interesting to us in September. I'm not sure why. After a long winter, my only fascination is why I was so fascinated by it).

The terrain was definitely changing. Instead of nothing but green grass and hills, now we were seeing green grass and rocks.



Stunning:



To the south:



Olympic Summit! This is the first "real" summit of the hike, though it's far from the highest. From here the trail is briefly a gentle ridge walk with a slight incline toward the more rocky and snow-covered true summit -- Mt. Allan. Just below this summit on the other side is the ski hill Nakiska, where some of the skiing events for the 1988 Winter Olympics were held.



Weather station! I actually get my weather reports for the Kananaskis area from this very weather station (how geeky am I to know that?):



I'll be honest, I don't even remember which direction this shot was in. We were both a little fried at this point.



The ridgewalk got a lot more snowy as we approached the approach to the summit.





The view all around us:







It was past 2:30 and we'd been hiking since 9. We were tired, sore, losing the daylight, and being snowed on after having to pack sunscreen earlier in the day. As much as we wanted to make that summit, we knew it would easily take another hour, and then our tired legs would need another 4 hours to navigate back down. It was a tough call, but we turned around.



It just gives us one more reason to go back...

Rock Glacier - August 24, 2008

Rock Glacier is not as hike as much as it is a chance to see some wildlife not normally spotted on your typical hike. Near the Highwood Pass area, the conditions and altitude around the Rock Glacier mean wildlife sees about 3 months of warm conditions, and spends those 3 months preparing for the other 9 months of winter.

The Rock Glacier is exactly what it sounds like -- a slow moving pile of rocks that gradually moves over time. More specifically, it is a scree slope that has water within and underneath. The constant freezing and thawing of the water creates the movement.

A rock glacier on its own really isn't much to look at -- however it's the perfect habitat for an alpine critter called the pika.

At first a pika looks like a squirrel or chipmunk, but it's actually related to rabbits and guinea pigs. They can be spotted by their rounded ears, if you can spot them at all! Their brownish-grey fur makes them tough to see in their chosen home of rock and boulder piles.

Even if you can't see them, odds are you'll know you're among pikas when you hear their "squeaks", which sound suspiciously like a squeeze toy. They use this squeak to communicate, and I swear, to throw off friendly neighborhood hikers hoping to catch a glimpse.

Pikas are busy creatures during summer months -- their favorite diet is dried grass, and they spend their days collecting fresh grass and laying it out in the sun to dry, before storing it away for the long winter. This makes the Rock Glacier a great place to sit back and spot a pika preparing for winter.

As we approached, we saw life right away, but it wasn't a pika. It was a Golden Mantle Ground Squirrel, hoping to cash on friendly humans:




It didn't take long for us to see our first pika. This guy didn't seem to care at all about the humans nearby and just carried out his chores. If you looked away at the wrong time, he'd be across the rock pile and lost to your eye in seconds flat.



Here's a shot of the outside of one of the "dens", complete with grass laid out to dry in the sun:



More pikas in the rocks. Looking at these photos after the fact was a little like playing "Where's Waldo?". Sometimes I didn't know if I'd lost the pika, or if the critter had run out of the frame before I took the shot...





Rock Glacier is not a hike or a walk, but if you're in the area driving around or hiking a nearby trail, it's absolutely worth the stop just to watch a little beast we rarely get to see.

Ptarmigan Cirque - August 24, 2008

Ptarmigan Cirque - Highwood Pass: Take Highway 40 south past the Kananaskis Lake turnoff to the Highwood Pass day use area. Trail head is the same as interpretive trail. Highwood 40 is closed at the Kananaskis Lakes junction from Dec 1 to June 15.

Ptarmigan Cirque is an amazing hike for so many reasons. On paper it doesn't look like much -- it's short (4.5 km total), the incline isn't much (225m), and the drive out to the Highwood Pass can take a good couple of hours from the city area. But everyone should do this hike at least once -- and preferably during wildflower season.

For starters the trailhead is beside the highest paved pass in Canada. This hike starts from an altitude of 2206m/7239 ft. And that 225m in altitude gain? That's pretty much all in the first kilometer. Suddenly, it's no walk in the park.

But the big draw of this hike is the terrain. You start from sub-alpine, and hike into true alpine terrain, the land of former glaciers and hardy vegetation. Even from the trailhead, one can tell that only the stronger trees, plants and critters survive. This particular area and altitude sees snow approximately 9 months out of the year (as evidenced by photos taken in late June).

The hike leads into what can only be described as a high plateau in the mountain, almost a bowl among the peaks, and is utterly unique.

The trailhead is shared with a short interpretive walk that is also worth the drive. The walk explains the climate and issues surrounding life in such an area:



The trail splits from the interpretive walk, crosses the highway and immediately begins the sharp ascent. It can a tough go -- especially if you're not used to high altitude -- but you're rewarded pretty quickly. This is looking across the highway, west:



I first encountered these flowers -- known as Chalice Flower or Western Anemone (Pulsatilla occidentalis) while hiking near the Icefields Parkway in Banff National Park. Their life is fascinating -- they exist mostly in alpine areas with short summer seasons. They bloom as small white flowers, and are covered in small hairs to protect them from the cold.

The bloom only lasts a short time -- maybe 2 weeks -- and then it is replaced by the "pod" seen here, known by many names such as "mops" "shaggy heads" "towhead babies" and my favorite "hippies on a stick". There were hundreds on this particular hike, and I picked this one because it looked, for the moment, almost entirely perfect:



After the climb, the trail meanders slowly toward the "bowl". As it transitions from sub-alpine to alpine, it almost seems like you're walking through a slowly rising meadow:



Looking south at the Highwood Range:



Nat and I are usually first on the trail, but this trail runner beat us to it. On the first photo I zoomed in on the man in red, but then I took a shot from a normal range, just to see the enormity of the area we were in (click on the second photo to see the man in red):





Though it was late in the season -- especially in a climate like this -- there were plenty of flowers along the trail. These Alpine Forget-Me-Nots (myosotis alpestris) were plentiful:



Another look down the Highwood Range from higher up the trail:



More wildflowers -- and a pretty one I just can't seem to identify. I'd like to call it a type of Cinquefoil, but it also resembles a buttercup. I'll keep looking. The distinctive star shape really caught my eye:



Even in late August, there were plenty of streams and falls throughout the meadow. I'm itching to hike this area come spring!



Another look at the "bowl". The trail makes it way through and over boulders and little creeks, but it's generally a flat meadow. The trail follows a "U" shape to the back of the plateau and around the other side to the front. All of this was carved out by glaciers:



Looking west:



Nice shot of the "bowl" from a spot near the end of the "U":



Pretty sure this is Slender Beardtongue (penstemon procerus). Stunning colours:



Sometimes those short hikes turn out to have the most interesting sights.