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

CAMP AT UPPER BOW LAKE.

The next day, Peyto and I took a lunch with us and spent the entire day exploring and photographing the glacier and its immediate neighborhood. The ice is not hemmed in by any terminal moraine, but shelves down gradually to a thin edge. In fact the termination of the glacier resembles somewhat the hoof of a horse, or rather that of a rhinoceros, the divided portions being formed by crevasses, while long thin projections of ice spread out between. It is a very easy matter to get on the glacier, and quite safe to proceed a long way on its smooth surface. We had some fine glimpses of crevasses so deep that it was impossible to see the bottom, while the rich blue color of the ice everywhere revealed to us marvels of colored grottoes and hollow-sounding caverns, their sides dripping with the surface waters. There is something peculiarly attractive, perhaps from the danger, pertaining to a deep crevasse in a glacier. One stands near the edge and throws, or pushes, large stones into these caverns, and listens in awe to the hollow echoes from the depths, or the muffled splash as the missile finally reaches a pool of water at the bottom. There is a suggestion of a lingering death, should one make a false step and fall down these horrible crevasses, where, wedged between icy walls far below the surface, one could see the glimmering light of day above, while starvation and cold prolong their agonies. A party of three mountaineers thus lost their lives on Mount Blanc in 1820, and more than forty years later their bodies were found at the foot of the Glacier des Bossons, whither they had been slowly transported, a distance of several miles, by the movement of the ice. The most dangerous crevasses are not those of the so-called “dry glacier,” where the bare ice is everywhere visible, but those of the névé regions where the crevasses are concealed, or obscured by the overlying snow.

Not far from the foot of the glacier the muddy stream flows through a miniature canyon, with walls near together, cut out of a limestone formation. The water here rushes some quarter of a mile, foaming and angry, as it dashes over many a fall and cascade. Where the canyon is deepest an immense block of limestone about twenty-five feet long has fallen down, and with either end resting on the canyon walls, it affords a natural bridge over the gloomy chasm. As probably no human being had ever crossed this bridge, we felt a slight hesitation in making the attempt, fearing that even a slight jar might be sufficient to dislodge the great mass. It proved, however, quite safe and will undoubtedly remain where it is for many years and afford a safe crossing-place for those who visit this interesting region.

CHAPTER XII.

Sources of the Bow—The Little Fork Pass—Magnificence of the Scenery—Mount Murchison—Camp on the Divide—A High Mountain Ascent—Future of the Bow Lakes—Return down the Bow—Search for a Pass—Remarkable Agility of Pack-Horses—The “Bay” and the “Pinto”—Mountain Solitudes—Mount Hector—Difficult Nature of Johnston Creek—A Blinding Snow-Storm—Forty-Mile Creek—Mount Edith Pass.

A fine trout stream entered the lake near our camp. This was, in fact, the Bow River. It held a meandering course a short distance before entering the lake, through a level meadow, or rather an open region, thickly grown over with alder bushes and other shrubby plants.

We were delayed at this camp by a period of unsettled weather with occasional storms and strong winds, so that three days were required to finish our explorations. At length, on the 24th of August, we broke camp, and followed the Bow valley northwards towards the source of the river. The valley preserves its wide character to the head of the pass, and is unusual among all the mountain passes for several reasons. The ascent to the summit is very gradual and constant, the valley is wide, and the country is quite open. In about two hours we came to the summit, and, after a long level reach, the slope insensibly changed and the direction of drainage was reversed.

This was a most delightful region. The smooth valley bottom sloped gradually upward toward the mountains on the east and west, and insensibly downward toward the valleys north and south, thus making an extensive region with gentle slopes curving in two directions, which in some way impresses the mind with a sense of quiet grandeur and indefinite liberty. But chiefly this region of the divide is made charming by a most beautiful arrangement of the trees. There are no forests here, nor do the trees grow much in groves or clumps, but each tree stands apart, at a long interval from every other, so that the branches spread out symmetrically in every direction and give perfect forms and beautiful outlines. Between are smooth meadows, quite free of brush, but crowded with flowering plants, herbs, and grasses, so that the general impression is that of a gentleman’s park, under the control and care of a landscape gardener, rather than of the undirected efforts of nature.