Frank Slide -- July 4, 2009

On April 29, 1903, at 4:10 am 90 million tonnes of mountain rock crashed down on the small mining town on Frank, AB (then in the North West Territories). The slide narrowly missed the main street of town, but still destroyed miner's houses, camping areas and outbuildings for the mine itself. Over 70 people were killed.

I've been driving through this southern Alberta area since I was child -- it's in the far southwest corner of Alberta, only minutes from BC to the west and Montana to the south. The mountain slide and the fan of boulders across the valley have always fascinated me, and as a child I would devour every book I could find on the subject.


(click to view full panorama)

Trapped miners, destroyed rail lines, stories of heroism, stories of amazing chance, it's an amazing historical event.

There's too much history to get into here (and trust me, I could talk your ear off for hours), so if you're interested, check out:

FrankSlide.com
Frank Slide, AB -- When a Mountain Fell On A Town
Alberta Geological Survey

The mountain still "moves", is actively monitored and all those involved say it's a matter of "when" not "if" the mountain will fall again. Hi-tech monitoring means we'll hopefully know well in advance when more of the mountain is about to fall:

Alberta Geological Survey -- Turtle Mountain Monitoring Project and Field Laboratory

On the edge of the slide is the Frank Slide Interpretive Centre, our next stop on our journey...

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.

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....

Bankhead - Aug 12, 2007

Bankhead Interpretive - Trail Particulars: At the Banff turnoff by Cascade Mountain, take the turn toward Lake Minnewanka. Continue along this road for about 10 minutes until you see the sign for the Lower Bankhead parking lot (right side of the road).

This excursion isn't a hike per se, but D and I had been looking for a nice change of pace and we'd been meaning to take another stroll around Bankhead.

Now, if you'll excuse me while my inner coal mining and history geek takes over:

Bankhead was established around 1903/1904 near the foot of Cascade Mountain as a coal-mining town. Its main purpose was to supply coal to the CP Rail locomotives. At its peak, Bankhead was bigger and busier than nearby Banff. It was the first town in the region to have electricity. Around 1500 people made Bankhead home.

Unfortunately the coal that was mined from Cascade Mountain wasn't of the quality expected, and tended to crumble, making it poor for burning. To solve this problem, pitch was imported from Philadelphia, and the coal was made into briquettes. An expensive solution, and since the mine's purpose was to serve the railway, not a very practical one.

The coal seams were also twisted and difficult to remove. The deeper the miners went, the more difficult it was to remove the coal. Couple this with a number of miners' strikes, and the mine's fate was sealed. The mine was closed in 1922. Many of the town's structures were moved to Banff.


Lower Bankhead is where the mine operation was and is the area that has been preserved. Upper Bankhead was the residential section of the town, and there is not much evidence left to see.

Try to do Lower Bankhead on a cool day. The whole site still has slack heaps and coal equipment and on those super-hot days the whole area seems to be thick with coal. D and I picked this day because it was overcast and breezy.

When you first step into Bankhead, there's a viewing platform to see the entire area from above. As you take the stairs down to the trail, you first pass by the lamphouse, where the miners used to pick up and drop off their lamps -- one way of keeping track who was still in the mine.



After the lamphouse, the path wanders for a little until you reach what used to be the transformer building. The original building stands, but in what is the only "modernization" of the site, the building serves as an exhibit, with some of the town history, some history on coal mining and the complications in mining that doomed the town.

Beside the transformer building is a selection of some of the original mining equipment, with plaques explaining their uses, such as this "tugger hoist" (used to move coal cars when they weren't hooked up to locomotives).



Beyond the transformer house is where the power house used to sit. All that's left now of this massive building is the foundation:



Even the trail looks be made of coal slack. There is a fork in the trail that leads another 2.5 km to a lake, but we opted to leave that for another day. Beautiful view of Mt. Rundle as well:



Next up was the remains of the boiler house, another massive building left to ruin. Most interpretive signs here have photos of the original structures. The boiler house was used to generate steam for power:



Another shot of the coal path. The entire site is marked with wild rhubarb. There is an interesting story behind this. Chinese coal miners lived behind the slack heaps (leftover coal), and many planted and tended gardens. When the mine closed and the town moved, the rhubarb in the gardens spread, and now it's nearly everywhere you look. The rhubarb was going to seed when we were there and it's easy to see how it spreads so easily. It's amazing to think something planted over a hundred years ago is still taking root and growing there today:




Remember that crumbly coal? Here's the briquette building, where imported pitch was used to try to salvage the coal that wasn't "usable":



Here's a look at Cascade Mountain from Lower Bankhead. Bankhead wasn't the only mine digging for coal in the mountain. Another mining town, Anthracite, also set up near the base of the mountain, about 6k east of Banff (close to where the turnoff is now). That town was vacated around the time Bankhead was established, thanks to flooding and (surprise!) low-quality coal. Nothing remains of Anthracite today.



Next stop along the tour is the mine tipple -- the heart of most coal mining operations. The structure was once 30 feet tall and was considered one of the best in Canada:



Here are the slack heaps mentioned before. These heaps fill most of the eastern part of the site. Even in 100 years, not much has grown over here:



An example of an air-powered coal train from this era. This is not the original Bankhead train, but from the Canmore mine. They were air-powered to reduce chances of explosions in the mine.



It's hard to believe, but the mine entrance was right here, the same spot the stairs are built into.



And what hike would be complete without a flower shot?