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

NORTH LAKE—LOOKING NORTHWEST.

CHAPTER X.

Evidence of Game—Discovery of a Mountain Goat—A Long Hunt—A Critical Moment—A Terrible Fall—An Unpleasant Experience—Habitat of the Mountain Goat—A Change of Weather—A Magnificent Panorama—Set out to Explore the Mountain—Intense Heat of a Forest Fire—Struggling with Burnt Timber—A Mountain Bivouac—Hope and Despair—Success at Last—Short Rations—Topography of Mount Assiniboine—The Vermilion River—A Wonderful Canyon—Fording the Bow River.

During our excursions we met with but little game, though it was very evidently a region where wild animals were abundant. The ground in many places was torn up by bears, where they had dug out the gophers and marmots. Large pieces of turf, often a foot or eighteen inches square, together with great stones piled up and thrown about in confusion around these excavations, gave evidence of the strength of these powerful beasts.

Higher up on the mountains we saw numerous tracks of the mountain goat, and tufts of wool caught among the bushes as they had brushed by them.

I was strolling through the upper part of the valley late one afternoon, when my eye fell suddenly on a mountain goat walking along the cliffs about a quarter of a mile distant. I had no rifle at the time and so returned to camp for one, meanwhile keeping well covered by trees and rocks. In a quarter of an hour I was back again and saw the goat disappear behind a ledge of rock about a half mile distant. The mountain goat always runs up in case of danger, so that it is essential to get above them in order to hunt successfully. I started forthwith to climb to a ledge about 200 feet above the one on which the goat appeared. This involved an ascent of some 600 feet, as the strata had a gentle dip southward toward Mount Assiniboine, so that it was necessary to take the ledge at a higher point and follow the downward slope. I was well covered by intervening cliffs, and the wind was favorable. It seemed almost a certainty that I should get a shot by following this ledge for about a mile. Accordingly I moved rapidly at first, and afterwards more cautiously, expecting to see the goat at any moment. At length I came to a narrow gorge, partially filled with snow, where there were fresh tracks leading both up and down. On a further study of the problem, I saw fresh tracks in the snow of the valley bottom, and knowing that it would be nearly useless to go up for the goat, I took the alternative chance of finding the animal below. After a hunt of two hours I returned to camp completely baffled. Arrived there, I caught sight of the goat standing unconcernedly on a still higher ledge.

It was now late in the day, but after a good camp dinner I set off again, determined to have that goat if it was necessary to stalk him all night. The animal was resting on a ledge near the top of a precipice fully 250 feet in height. I studied his position for at least a quarter of an hour, carefully noting the snow patches on the ledge above, so that it would be easy to recognize them on arriving there. Having made sure that I could recognize the exact spot below which the goat was located, I started to climb, and by a rough estimate calculated that I should have to ascend at least 1000 feet. After a few hundred yards, I was completely hidden from the goat in a shallow gully. Urged on by the excitement of the hunt, I reached the ledge in twenty minutes and turned southward. I now had to scramble over and among some enormous blocks of stone which had fallen from the mountain side and were strewn about in wild disorder. Some were twenty feet high, and between them were patches of snow which often gave way very suddenly and plunged me into deep holes formed by the snow melting back from the rock surfaces. Very soon I came to a small pool of water and a trickling stream, already freezing in the chill night air.

It was after nine o’clock, though there was still a bright twilight in the northwest, somewhat shaded, however, by the dark cliffs above. I proceeded very slowly, so as to cool down somewhat and become a little steadier after the rapid ascent. In about ten minutes I recognized the patch of snow under which the goat was located, about one hundred yards ahead. I went to the edge of the precipice cautiously, with rifle ready, and examined the ledges below. The up-draught, caused by the sun during the daytime, just now changed to the downward flow of the night air, chilled by radiation on the mountain side. This I thought would arouse the goat, but just at that moment my foot slipped and I dislodged a few pieces of loose shingle, which went rattling down the cliffs. These stones made the goat apprehensive of danger, in all probability, for I had no sooner recovered my balance than I caught sight of the white head and shoulders of the animal about twenty-five yards below. The animal stood motionless and stared at me in a surprised but impudent manner. I took aim, but could not keep the sight on him long enough to make sure of a shot, as my rapid climb had made my nerves a trifle unsteady. Fortunately, the goat showed not the slightest disposition to move and in a few seconds I got a good aim and fired. As soon as the smoke cleared, I saw a dash of white disappearing, and then heard a dull thud far below. A few seconds later I saw the animal rolling over and over down the mountain side, where it finally stopped on a slide of loose stones. I had to make a long detour in order to get down to the animal, where I arrived in about half an hour, and, remarkably enough, both horns were uninjured, though the goat had fallen 125 feet before striking. This good luck resulted from a small snow patch at the base of the cliff, which had broken the force of the fall, and here there was a perfect impression of the animal’s body, eighteen inches deep, in the hard snow, while the next place where he had struck was about fifteen feet below.

It was about 10:30 o’clock when I started for camp, and so dark, at this late hour, that it was just possible to distinguish the obscure forms of rocks and trees on the mountain side. There was still another ledge to be passed before I could get down to the valley, where the only recognizable landmarks were occasional snow patches, and a single bright gleam in the darkness—our camp fire. I traversed northwards in descending, so as to pass beyond the vertical ledge, and at length, thinking that I had gone far enough, tried to descend. The place was steep, but as there were a few bushes and trees a safe descent seemed practicable. So I unslung my rifle, and, after resting it securely in a depression, I lowered myself till my feet rested on a projection of rock below. At the next move there was great difficulty in finding a rest for the rifle. At length I found a fair place, and lowered myself again. One more step and I should reach the bottom. Fortunately there was a stout balsam tree at the top of the ledge, with great twisted roots above the rocks, which would afford excellent hand-holds. Grasping them, after placing the rifle in the lowest place, I lowered myself again, but to my surprise I could not touch the bottom, and, looking down, found that I was hanging over a ledge twenty feet high with rough stones below. Just then the rifle began to slip down, as in my movements I had disturbed some bushes supporting it. With one hand firmly grasping a stout root, and the toe of my boot resting against the cliff, I took the rifle in my other hand, and after a most tiresome struggle, succeeded at length in placing it secure for the moment. It was now a hand-over-hand contest to get up. In going down everything had seemed most firm and secure, but now it was impossible to rely on anything, as the bushes broke away in my hand or were pulled out by the roots, and the rocks all appeared loose or too smooth to grasp. Necessity, however, knows no law, and after a most desperate effort I regained the top of the cliff. Not relishing any more experiences of this nature, I groped my way along for some distance and finally found an easy descent. On reaching the valley, the snow patches here and there afforded safe routes, illumined, as they were, by the starlight. I reached camp after eleven o’clock tired but successful.