Camping in the Canadian Rockies / an account of camp life in the wilder parts of the Canadian Rocky mountains, together with a description of the region about Banff, Lake Louise, and Glacier, and a sketch of early explorations.

by Walter Dwight Wilcox

APPROACHING THE PASS.

Near the top of the pass the travelling was much easier, and in a few minutes we were looking over the summit across a wide valley to a range of rough mountains hung with glaciers. Beyond them, and rising far above, could be seen the sharp crest of Mount Assiniboine, faintly outlined against the sky in a smoky atmosphere. The intervening wide valley revealed a great expanse of burnt forest. The dreary waste of burnt timber was only relieved by two lakes, several miles distant, resting in a notch among the mountains. The nearer was about a mile in length, while slightly beyond, and at a higher elevation, was the second, a mere pool of dark blue water, resting against the moraine of a glacier.

In the valley, a meadow near a large stream seemed to offer the best chances for a camp. In an hour we reached this spot after a hard descent. Some of our horses displayed great sagacity in selecting the safest and easiest passages between and around the logs, and gave evidence of their previous experience in this kind of work.

In order to rest the men and horses, after the arduous marches of the past forty-eight hours, we decided to remain an entire day at this place. We were also anxious to explore the two lakes, as they seemed to offer fair promise of beautiful scenery and interesting geological formation. Our camp was surrounded on all sides by burnt forests and charred logs, and so offered but little of the picturesque. A partial compensation was enjoyed, however, by reason of the great variety and number of song birds which were now nesting in a small swamp near by. This bog was clothed in a rich covering of grass, and here our horses revelled in the abundance of feed, while some small bushes scattered here and there afforded shelter and homes for several species of birds. All day long and even far into the night we were entertained by their melodies. The most persistent singer of all was the white-crested sparrow, whose sweet little air of six notes was repeated every half minute throughout the entire day, beginning with the first traces of dawn. Perhaps our attention was more attracted to the sounds about us because there was so little to interest the eye in this place. Smoke from distant forest fires obscured whatever there was in the way of mountain scenery, while the waste of burnt timber was most unattractive. A warm, soft wind blew constantly up the valley and made dull moanings and weird sounds among the dead trees, where strips of dried bark or splinters of wood vibrated in the breeze. The rushing stream, fifty yards from our camp, gave out a constant roar, now louder, now softer, according as the wind changed direction and carried the sound towards or away from us. The thunders of occasional avalanches, the loud reports of stones falling on the mountain sides, were mingled with the varied sounds of the wind, the rustling of the grass, the moaning trees, and the songs of birds. These were all pure nature sounds, most enjoyable and elevating. Though but partially appreciated at the time, such experiences linger in the memory and help make up the complex associations of pleasures whereby one is led to return again and again to the mountains, the forests, and the wilderness.

Our time, which was set aside for this region, now being consumed, we started on July the twelfth for the valley at the base of Mount Assiniboine, where it was probable that we should camp for a period of two weeks or more. Our route lay toward the end of the valley and thence around a projecting spur of the mountain which cut off our view. In about two hours our horses were struggling up the last steep slope near the summit of the divide. I had delayed for a photograph of a small lake, so the horses and men were ahead. When at length I gained the top I found that a misplaced pack had caused delay, and so I overtook the entire party on the borders of a most beautiful sheet of water. The transformation was nearly instantaneous. The burnt timber was completely shut out from view by the low ridge we had just passed over, and we entered once more a region of green forests. The lake was long and narrow; on the farther side, hemmed in by rock slides and cliffs of the mountains, but on the west side a trail led along the winding shore among larch and spruce trees. In many shady nooks along the banks of the lake were snow-drifts, under the trees or behind protecting rocks. So long had winter lingered this season that part of the lake was still covered with ice. Large fragments of ice were drifting down the lake and breaking among the ripples. Near the shore in some places, the water was filled with thousands of narrow, needle-like pieces of ice several inches long and perhaps thick as a match, which, by their rubbing together in the moving water, made a gentle subdued murmur like the rustling of a silken gown. When ice is exposed to a bright sun for several days, it shows its internal structure by separating into vertical columns, with a grain like that of wood. The ice needles which we saw had been formed during the last stages of this wonderful process.

North Lake

The Indians had made a most excellent trail round the lake, as frequently happens in an open country. Wherever dense brush or much fallen timber occur, the trail usually disappears altogether, only to be discovered again where there is less need for it. It is said that a trail, once made, will be preserved by the various game animals of the country. In fact, there were quite recent tracks of a mountain goat in the path we followed around the lake.

The trail closely followed the water’s edge and led us to the extreme end of the lake and thence eastward, where, having left this beautiful sheet of water, we passed through a grove for a very short space and came at once to another smaller, and possibly still more beautiful, sheet of water. Simultaneously the magnificent and long-expected vision of Mount Assiniboine appeared. It was a most majestic spire or wedge of rock rising out of great snow fields, and resembling in a striking manner the Matterhorn of Switzerland.