June 3, 2006
It rained a fair amount last night. The rain wasn't hard, just steady. By the time I roused myself though, the sky seemed to have given its all. As a I crawled from the tent, which stood quite proudly in denying the rain entrance to the cavernous inner-sanctum, sunlight was bathing the eastern face of Mt. Field. The sun stayed throughout the day, sharing the sky by times in equal measure with fluffy white clouds.
GT and I headed out almost immediately on foot for Field, four kilometres west along the Trans Canada Highway. GT plodded along the shoulder of the highway while I wandered and weaved my way parallel to him along the former flood plain of tthe Kicking Horse River. The part I was on is cut off from the river by the raised roadbed of the TCH.
I wish I could name the plants growing in this hard scrabble sediment. I recognized fireweed though, and spent much of our journey with my eye to the ground, looking for objects to take photos of.
paintbrush, not fireweed as I thought it was.
I was motivated by more than just exploration to take the less beaten path to Field: the 18-wheelers on the highway scared the crap out of me. Barely ever more than a minute passed between trucks, sometimes four or more in a row, blasting past at 100 kilometres an hour. I couldn't take it; made me jumpy. White was the ubiquitous cab colour of choice.
We were back at the campsite by 10:30 and Derek told me of the 'incident'. I had left a bag of six dice on the picnic table. A raven or magpie got to it, opened the bag, and scattered the contents across to campsites. Now we only have five dice. Somewhere in a magpies garden a blue die waits to be played with.
The prospects are not good for back-country adventure in the Skoki Valley around Lake Louise, the main target of our trip. So we humped off to Emerald lake this afternoon. I think I hurt myself. I really should be better prepared for these adventures. Tomorrow will have to be paced.
We walked around Emerald Lake and cut up and over to Emerald Basin. No snowball fights. 62 healthy piles of deer droppings along the last open section of the trail.
There were long periods of silent walking in the woods today. Then, a flurry of conversation would babble through the trees, and as suddenly as it started the walk dropped back to silence. I wonder which one of us most often has the last word?
two samples of conversation:At the end of our hike we stopped at a cluster of interpretive signs at the edge of the lake near Emerald Lodge. English and French side by side, facing Emerald Lake, Burgess Mountain, Mt. Wapta, Mt. Field and the Burgess Shale. The signs tell the story of the discovery of the Burgess Shale and its significance.
- How many ways are there to execute a person? GT talked about a book he flicked through at the grocery store the other day. 107 ways to execute a person, or something to that effect. I am not sure how much time he spent 'flicking' through the book, but he was able to ramble off an exhaustive list of man's ability to be cruel to his fellow man. Sewn into the body of a dead donkey? Ewww.
- Derek is reading a Pierre Berton book, Vimy. I really should read more. Newspapaers and web-sites only marginally help me understand the world around me. And those two sources occupy a substantial amount of my time.
On the way back to camp we startled a Moose, much to the chagrin of the people in the RV pulled off to the side watching it.
Chili Tortilla with Beef for dinner. Mmmm, a hearty reconstituted meal. I'll wind down and see what is on for tomorrow.
This trip deserves to be shared with Meaghan. In a sense, the person to whom I write is Meaghan. I expect she'll see me in the words. Beyond the journal, postcards are little wee condensed messages. I am writing to her, and to my friends I've left behind and those I'm driving toward.
GT sat on his glasses. The shearing of the left arm from the frames made a popping sound, or was that the sound of the lenses slapping against the surface of the stump he had left them on. A minor set back.
"Asshole, prick," exclaimed GT upon learning I had written about his unfortunate event. Fuck, how Derek and I laughed. It was hard not to.
Another night, another fire. The odd star flickers through gaps in the thin forest canopy. The moon has sunk behind Mt. Field. I can hear water flowing in the distance. Not far away a creek. I don't know the creek's name, if it has one. It doesn't matter. Name or not, the water keeps flowing.
Beyond the creek, in distance and volume, a train shudders along the left bank of the Kicking Horse River. Rails hug the cliffside. The diesel's drone disappears, fades really, as it passes into the tunnel. During our morning walk to Field I watched three trains head east. At the head of one of the trains four engines hauled cars stretching a kilometre. Another train had two locomotives at the the frontt and one puching from the rear. More will pass through the valley and at some point tonight I'll wake to the sound of the engines drone.
Update on the Moon: I must have lost it in the clouds earlier because it is still visible and has a way yet to go before sinking behind Mt. Field.
It was a good day of hiking, both in the morning to Field, and in the afternoon around Emerald Lake and up into the Emerald basin.
Before heading to Emerald Lake we stopped in at the Parks Canada office in Field. One of the men who works there has a fairly sarcastic edge to the way he deals with you. It works okay with me, but I could see it rubbing some people the wrong way. GT thought he'd like to hike Burgess Pass trail, a route we took the previous fall. Parks Canada guy's response was simple: "you will die." Hmmm. We opted for Emerald Basin.
But getting to Emerald Basin wasn't as simple as it sounds. Emerald glacier snakes along the President's Range of mountains a few kilometres to the north of Emerald Lake. Over the years the run-off from the glacier has formed an alluvial fan that leads to the shore of Emerald Lake. Somewhere, while crossing the rocky wasteland of the alluvial fan, we took a wrong turn and it was many hundreds of metres before we fully realized our error. A quick backtrack and we were back on course.
Derek and GT learn we've erred in our ways.
