Jacques Lake Snowshoe Trip
I’m not sure how it happened, but my friend Natalie decided to make the trip from Vancouver to Edmonton for a weekend in March. I had met her about a year prior, when I did a solo trip to Nepal and met her at a hostel in Kathmandu. We ended up being good travel buddies and she even talked me into doing a motorcycle trip in Thailand. Once back in Canada she joined The Alpine Club of Canada, which is relevant to this tale. She used her membership to get us two spots in a cabin for one night when she was out.
Natalie flew into Edmonton late Wednesday and on Thursday morning we headed west to The Rockies. We stopped only for gas, groceries, and road snacks… the usual essentials. It was a long drive from highway 16 to the trail head near Moraine Lake. The steep banks were covered with melting snow and there was no shortage of large rocks on the highway. There were avalanche warnings, but the road was still, officially, open. We arrived at the trailhead early in the afternoon and started to gear up. The weather was a balmy 8 degrees Celsius. I put on wool socks and base layers under my thin hiking pants. On top I wore a t shirt, a long sleeve, a fleece hoodie, and a toque. I chuckled to myself that I have definitely worn warmer clothes in July for hiking, I guess I was just tuned into the colder weather. I put extra layers into my pack and strapped my snowshoes on the outside. Natalie, being from a warmer climate, wore ski pants and a proper jacket. She also strapped her snowshoes onto the outside of her pack. I had purchased my snowshoes nearly 10 years ago on my employee discount back when I worked retail during university, and this was the first time I had honesty used them and it felt great. Natalie’s set had been borrowed from my employer (with permission).
We started by crossing a small bridge and then onto the trail. The sun was out and the snow reflected the heat onto us. I had managed to get lucky and dress perfectly for the weather. Natalie didn’t complain but I assumed she was overheating. The trail was initially packed down enough that we just walked in our hiking boots. Almost immediately into the trail I found a large rubber band on the ground. The kind you would find on broccoli at the grocery store. It struck me as odd and I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Throughout the hike I ended up finding half a dozen of these and for the life of me I cannot imagine what people were using them for. Perhaps a gear tie of some sort?
We hit a nice view of the mountains and the trail and I took two photos with my old Polaroid camera to see how it worked. It did not work well. I think it was too cold and too bright for that camera to really shine. Only one of the photos turned out ok. It was a shame, that could have been a fun thing but instead it just kind of tagged along for the ride in my pack.
When the trail opened up at Summit Lakes, the snow was deep enough around the edges that the snowshoes were necessary. Before that, I was worried we wouldn’t need them, and I would have to wait another 10 years to use them. Towards the end of Summit lakes, I pulled some snacks out of my pack, my classic combination of Hawkins Cheezies and beef jerky. It was a hit, no surprise. Fair warning, this delicious combo requires extra water to wash it down, its very salty.
On the far side of Summit Lakes, it turned back into a trail through the trees. We were able to remove our snowshoes again. This time we both opted to just carry them instead of strap them back onto our packs. At one point Natalie was leading and stepped over a downed log on the trail. I went to follow suit, but stepped to close to the edge and as I put all my weight on my left foot to lift my right over the log, I fell through the snow. I came down hard with the inside of my right thigh, slamming into the downed tree and I fell backward onto my pack, twisting my knee. The sharp edges of my snowshoes bashed into my left hand as they bounced off the log. I laid there laughing and Natalie turned around to see what the commotion was. After a moment of reflection, I pulled myself up and out and then she realized I had gone through and not just slipped. I did a quick once over on my limbs and nothing was too badly hurt, aside from my pride. My hand was ringing with pain, but had little more than a scratch on it. We carried on, me having learned a lesson, stay centered on the trail when possible.
We arrived at the summer campsite which I had stayed at many years before and I noticed it had changed a bit. They installed bear boxes for food storage to replace the bear poles and they had gotten rid of two picnic tables. Just beyond the campsite the trail led us to a rather rough looking bridge. I opted to cross first, if it could support me, Natalie would be fine. On the far side of the bridge we ducked under a few tree limbs and made it to the edge of the clearing the cabin was in. There were a few people on the porch and they gave us a friendly wave.
It turns out the Cabin could hold 8. It had 2 big bunk beds and each bunk could accommodate two people. Of the 8 spots, 6 were taken by one group. It was a man and his friend, and his daughter and her friend… and then two people they had befriended through the club… I think. It was only really explained to me once. They were very friendly and because they got there before us, they had already had snow melted for water and the cabins propane furnace was already running.
We unpacked while we made everyone’s acquaintance and then Natalie made mac and cheese while I made a salad (I had carried in an easy to make bag salad). Washing dishes was an interesting endeavor. It required three basins: a wash, a rinse, and a disinfect. It was a smart system, though it did require a lot of counter space. The remainder of the evening was spent with Natalie and I talking to each other about upcoming trips, and hikes we had already done. She also took the opportunity to chat with our fellow guests, one of whom was big into sailing and she was even able to recommend a sailing school in Vancouver for Natalie. I was quite tired from the drive and the hike so I wasn’t as social as I should have been.
Eventually the night wound down and I had no trouble falling asleep and staying that way. In the morning, two of the guests were up early as they had to ski out and then drive home to somewhere far away in BC that day. The rest if us had a slower start, our end destination for the day was a hotel in Jasper and the other guests were spending another night. For breakfast we had cereal, one of my favorites. It’s just granola, freeze dried fruit, chocolate chips (optional, but I have a sweet tooth), and powdered milk. I make it at home in a zip-loc bag and on the trial, just add water. We slowly put our gear on, overnight my socks went from soaked to barely damp which was a big relief… until I stepped into the rubber mat under the sink. It was all the water that had been poured down the sink during food prep, and brushing teeth. It usually goes into a 5 gallon pail, but some found its way onto the rubber mat and that found its way onto my right sock. I suppressed my gag reflex and did what I could to squeeze the water out of my sock. I soon realized it didn’t matter, my boots, overnight, went from sopping dripping wet to just waterlogged so my socks were wet immediately. I guess the waterproofing on my boots needed a refresh.
We strapped our snowshoes on and said our goodbyes. We decided to head back along the lake, it felt fairly safe since there were fresh ski tracks on it. I did have brief, morbid and comical, thought of following the ski tracks right up to a hole in the ice. After a few hundred yards it felt a lot less safe when we saw that springs had been pumping water onto the ice near the shore and created open patches. I unbuckled my pack, in case I went through, and we went wide around them. At the south tip of Jaques Lake we followed some ski tracks through the trees along a river that connected to the other lakes. There were a few questionable maneuvers here crossing ice that clearly had a stream running below. Luckily none of it was overly fast or deep so going through would have meant cold legs rather than risk of life and limb. All the same, I wanted to stay out of the water this time of year. Overall, it was a much nicer trail than the one in the trees we had taken the day before and it made the snowshoes feel a little more necessary, which was, after all, part of the fun. Eventually we made it back to Summit Lakes and followed our old tracks out without incident. Once at the trailhead I changed into fresh, less sweaty and smelly shirts and celebrated with a root beer, because deep down, for me, hiking is all about good snacks… and I guess good company never hurts.
Technical/gear
I’ve had people on other posts ask about gear and technical information. So I’m tying to add it at the end. For this trip the only special gear we used was the snow shoes. Both of us used MSR brand which I like because the sharp bottoms work well on ice, but they did also cut the lower cuff of my pants. That said, this was my first use of snowshoes so I am far from an authority on them. I wore my regular summer hiking gear and some base layers. My regular old hiking boots strapped into the snow shoes. Natalie wore her ski gear to be extra warm. The Jacques lake hike is a great starter hike because its only about 12km each way with minimal elevation gain and great views. This also makes it great for snowshoeing and the use of the Alpine Club of Canada’s cabin meant that we didn’t have to bring cooking gear, a tent, or even a sleep mat so our packs were quite light. Sleeping in a heated cabin is also a nice touch. The people we met at the cabin had skied in and all agreed that snow shoes probably would have been better as some of the trails were a little tight and winding, that said, along the lakes when we hiked out skis would have been faster. You probably cant go wrong with either and current snow conditions were also likely a big factor.
Posted in Hiking and tagged Alberta, backcountry, backpacking, hiking, Outdoors, snowshoeingwith 1 comment.
The Iceland Saga Vol. 2 Laugavegur Trail
The first part of this series can be found here. Don’t forget to subscribe by entering your email on the right.
The day was young, the air was cold, the tent was wet… but that’s Iceland. A price that is well worth paying for an adventure. My nervous stomach was doing flips as we boarded the monster of a bus. Imagine a greyhound bus with oversized tires and a lift kit, that’s what I climbed onto shortly before sunrise. The bus made a few more stops to collect passengers. I watched out the window with interest as we turned off the pavement onto a dirt track. The trail itself wasn’t too terrible. It was soft sand, for the most part, but it was narrow and winding. The driver was clearly familiar because he was impatiently tailgating and honking at the slow-moving land rovers we crossed paths with. A few times we forded deep creeks that justified the tires on the bus. Eventually, we ended where we intended. We had made it to Landmannalaugar, now we just had to make it out.
When we first pulled in, my mind immediately thought of a refugee camp. It was raining, it was muddy, there were sad little tents everywhere and cold, wet people milling about. I immediately, and somewhat pointedly, crumpled this comparison and threw it in the trash bin in the back of my mind. These were tourists, here of their own accord, and I likely represented the poorest of the lot. There was a small shop that sold the basics, it was two old school buses pushed together and converted. I didn’t need anything so I didn’t bother going in. Just as well, the reputation of their prices preceded my arrival. Erin and I slipped into a communal cooking shelter and changed into our rain gear, as did several others. The rain was pretty steady at this point and I nearly ruined my trip before it started. I bent down to pick something up and managed to rip the front of my waterproof hiking pants. I thought I was going to have to hike the rain in soggy pants for 4 days. Luckily, Erin had some medical tape in her bag, surprisingly, that was sufficient to hold it together for the duration of the hike.
After a sufficient amount of stalling, on my part, we found the trailhead and started walking. The first bit of the hike was along the green valley floor, the trail was well worn in. Abruptly the trail stood on end, had it not been packed down and marked I would have assumed we hit the end. Up we went, then some more up… then some more… I didn’t know Iceland had this much up in it. The green shrubbery gave way to a rocky mountain top. The rain and wind picked up. Eventually, we lost most visibility, we walked through the misty fog barely able to see the next marker. The trail was occasionally dotted with cairns to help. Along the way, we passed a memorial dedicated to a young hiker who lost his life in a snowstorm in 2004. I place a rock on top of the growing pile at the memorial, and with a bit more solemn and introspective tone, I continued my hike. We arrived at the first campsite shortly after. It was still raining and windy and the campsites were all quite rocky. It was also only about 2 in the afternoon. We had some lunch, we ate what we called “SADwiches” they were a slice of ham and a slice of cheese in what tasted like a burnt compressed pita bun. Erin and I decided to press on to the next campsite which was only a few hours hike away and at a much lower altitude. We hoped by then the rain and wind would slow. As we pressed on, the landscape rolled us up and down deep and narrow drainages, passed shrubs, and then through the barren rocky land. At one point in our up and down and questionable ice bridge crossings, Erin noticed she didn’t have her phone. We then had to backtrack nearly a kilometer to find it. I told her, as punishment I would shame her on my blog. Eventually, we hit what felt like the edge of a mini-mountain range. The trail led down the side of one last little mountain and into a big open lowland. Down below we could see the land all had a gentle slope leading to a lake, we could see the campsite, Alftavatn, next to it. We made our way down and set-up camp. Luckily for us, the rain had nearly stopped, just the lightest drizzle and no wind as we set up. Every campsite had cabins, bathrooms, and showers. The showers were expensive and the cabins were only for those renting a bunk in them. Those of us who tented, congregated around the edges of the buildings, hoping the slight overhang of the roof would protect us from the rains that were inevitably coming. The remainder of the evening passed without a noteworthy event. We were ahead of schedule and I was plenty tired, sleep came easy.
Day two held a bit of everything, including a cold river crossing very early in the day. Immediately after the crossing was a long flat walk, it was on an open black plain surrounded, in the distance, by sparse mossy green hills. We eventually found ourselves in the mountains and crossing old volcanic terrain. I was beginning to feel a lot like a hobbit delivering jewelry. We reached our camp in the early afternoon. I purchased our camping permit while Erin used the washroom… We discussed it and we were both ok to press on to Thorsmork. I asked if a refund was possible, instead, they made a note on my permit that it would be valid at the next camp. We pressed on through the mountainous terrain. Eventually, the terrain became more treed and the rain began to pick up. I was beginning to regret not staying at the last campsite but we were well on our way to completing the Laugavegur trail in just 2 days. I finally hit my tipping point, every big trip beats me at some point. I always drag myself back up, but it still happens. In this case, we came down a hill in the rain to see a wide graveled flood plain. Narrow rivers spread like veins across the landscape. I was cold, exhausted, miserable, and starting to get vocal about it. Erin and I tried to hop from sandbar to sandbar but they all dead-ended eventually. Finally, we bit the bullet, in the cold rain, on the sharp rocks, we changed into our sandals to walk across the streams. Even that wasn’t easy as they were moving at an impressive pace. One miss step on slick rock or into a deep hole would send you tumbling down an icy stream, in this weather a soaked pack, and as a result, soaked bedding constitutes a literal emergency. We hit the far bank without incident. I sat on the bank shivered, dry heaved, and nearly cried. I don’t know if it was a panic attack but it sure felt like some kind of stress and exhaustion induced attack. For about five minutes I sat in the rain, with Erin casting a worried and unsure eye, and felt the absolute worst I have ever felt in my life, in every sense of the word. My stomach hurt from stress, my feet hurt from cold, my knees hurt from use, my head hurt from dehydration, my soul hurt from exhaustion. Slowly, I put myself together again. I took off my soaked sandals, wrung out my socks, slid them on and forced my boots into place. Things weren’t going to get better if I stayed sitting. It was time to go. We slung our packs and started walking. As luck would have it, it was calm trails through the trees all the way to nearby Thorsmork. We set up our tent and were thankful for the small communal tent they had set up for campers to cook in. We hung out gear to dry, cooked some supper and made tea to try and chase the cold from our bones. Words cannot describe the comfort one feels climbing into dry pajamas and a warm sleeping bag after a day like that. I took a deep whiff of fresh Icelandic air and I was asleep. We had just completed the Laugavegur trail in two days. In the morning we could catch a bus back to town or we could hike.
We had technically already completed the Laugavegur trail. The last leg was from Thorsmork to Skogafoss. This was the hardest part of the hike for me. I was already good and tired, physically and mentally. Then Iceland had a good sense of humor and threw some heights at me. The highlight of which was when I had to climb and drop down a few ledges, walk across a narrow peak, then climb back up another steep cliff and ledge combination with the assistance of a chain bolted to the side. While maneuvering the chain, my hiking poles, that were slung around my wrist, were doing their best to tangle between my legs. I looped my elbow around the chain, pulled the poles off my wrists, debated dropping them off the cliff, decided against littering, collapsed them and tucked them between my pack and my back. Once I completed the chain ordeal, I was rewarded with a nice steep hill to go straight up. I was glad I opted to keep the hiking poles. At some point we crossed between two large glaciers, over mountains, and crossed barren black volcanoes, the two youngest volcanoes in the world, I am told. Finally, we reached a river that would eventually feed Skogafoss. We walked along its edge, high above the water on more cliff edges. Every few hundred yards there was another spectacular waterfall. I knew we were getting close because I started to see people in increasingly casual clothing and good moods. Eventually, we reached the falls. The top of the falls, actually. It was crowded and spectacular. Erin took some photos and I stared, sore-footed and dead-eyed at the flights upon flights of metal stairs for us to climb down. As my stiff legs and sore knee carried me down the steps I overheard someone on the way up complaining about the stairs, I had just enough energy to stifle my laugh. Erin and I hit the bottom and hi-fived, lazily. We had just hiked 80km in 3 days. All we had to do now was figure out a ride back to Hella, where our car was parked.
We walked to the information center on the far side of the little town at the bottom of the falls. They were closed, so we went to the attached restaurant, they closed 10 minutes later… We walked to the nearest bus stop and tried to decipher the schedule, as best I could tell the next bus was coming at 9 am… in 3 days. We debated sleeping there, as there was a little campsite available. We sat down at a little picnic table next to some other hikers and gathered our tired and flustered thoughts. Just as Erin was digging out the ingredients for tea, the hikers said “hey, our bus is here” and as a holy apparition, there it was. We repacked our bags, fast, and ran over and asked if they had extra seats, they did. I don’t remember the price and even now, I don’t care. Half an hour or so later we were in our car. We drove to the nearest gas station and I bought a bacon-wrapped hot dog and other necessary supplies. We drove to our next campsite, Selfoss. While preparing a snack a girl at the table next to us told me we simply HAD to stay up to see the northern lights. I didn’t have the energy to stay up or to explain that I am quite spoiled here in Canada when it comes to aurora borealis. In fact, Erin and I saw them on our wedding night in the middle of Edmonton.
The following morning we went to see another waterfall, Gullfoss, truly a monster of a fall. All I remember was being tired and sore walking from the car to the viewing point. For lunch, we stopped at a little cafe and as luck would have it, they had thermal bread which was something I really wanted to try while I was there and seemed to be having trouble locating.
The final day we took our time getting to the airport, we stopped at the famous blue lagoon baths and had a look. It was nice to walk around, Erin grabbed a coffee and we were on our way. It was too crowded and far too expensive considering we had already gone into the hot springs at Myvatn. All that was left now, was to catch our flight home and sleep in a bed for the first time in a long time. On the flight home, I realized I had actually set a personal record, eleven consecutive days in a tent.
Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travel and tagged hiking, iceland, travelwith no comments yet.
Jacques Lake Hike
Friday after work, Erin and I caught a ride with our friends Kate and Alex. We were headed to Jasper for a quick front country camp that night, and a backcountry camp the following day. It would be Kate and Alex’s first backcountry camping trip. They were due to start the West Coast Trail about a month later. I admired their ambition.
Our Friday night camp was quite straight forward. We set up our tents, made a fire, sat around it and I even enjoyed a beer. The following morning we met two more friends, Marc and Chelsea, in town. Everyone grabbed something from the cafe to start the day. I was feeling unwell so I declined any breakfast. We headed to the Jacques Lake trailhead, where Nikki (remember her from that time I was a hero?) was waiting. We got set up in the parking lot and headed in. I noticed Marc’s pack was quite big. I would later learn that had packed in a lot of creature comforts as the trail was not particularly demanding, and this turned out to also be Chelsea’s first backcountry experience.
Very early in the trail, we encountered a wide, shallow, fast-moving creek. There were two split logs acting as a bridge that led across it, but after that, the trail seemed to disappear. As luck would have it, there was a parks employee in the vicinity. She explained the faster water had washed out the bridge that cut back across the creek. Our only option was to kick off our shoes, roll up our pants, and walk across. It was quite refreshing. Further up the trail, we detoured slightly to a large meadow by a lake with low water. While eating we picked some wild chives to add to dinner later. While the others were eating I walked closer to the lake and found what I believe were wolf tracks in the mud at the edge. They could have been dog tracks, but there were no people tracks and dogs are not permitted off-leash. Still a possibility I suppose. Our hike continued.
After lunch and further up the trail we crossed paths with a man and a woman. They appeared to only have day hiking gear. She said there was a black bear on the trail ahead and that they were headed back as a result. I was not dissuaded, or even concerned. My years of hunting have inflated my ego and reduced my fear of wildlife. I had also recently finished an Andy Russel book on Grizzlies which had also relaxed me about bears. I have no doubt this confidence will be my downfall someday, but for now, I’m pretty fearless with wildlife. At any rate, we pressed on. Sure enough, on the trail, there was a bear… Actually, it was just off the trail ahead and to our left. Marc was at the front of our group and yelling to make noise to scare it off. He had his bear spray out, I drew mine and joined him. The bear was 50 to 100 yards ahead of us and the remainder of our group was about 25 yards behind us. Our noise was successful in scaring the bear, unfortunately, we just scared it up the nearest tree. It would come down, get scared, and climb back up. We called Alex up, he had mentioned earlier that he had some bear bangers. We were hoping they would do the trick. Alex seemed pretty excited when we suggested he fire one in the bear’s direction. He assembled the small pen-like device, took aim, and let loose a perfect shot. Straight-line to the bear and detonating just in front of it, which is exactly ideal. If you shoot over the bear, you could scare it to you. The bear barely flinched, climbed down the tree, gave us a long hard look and ran off the opposite direction. We all cheered Grizzly Alex. Marc continued to lead the way. I stood still watching the trees until the group passed. I then took up the rear and kept an eye out.
Eventually, we hit the camp and got situated. Tess (you may remember her from our West Coast Trail Hike) and her friend Jade were hiking in later. That weekend was Tess’s birthday so I packed in a loaf cake… It sort of a cake with the shape and texture of banana bread. They pack very well. I let everyone know I had it and to be ready to sing happy birthday at some point. During this time the reason for the size of Marc’s pack became clear. He had brought all the comforts of home. He packed in a full-size saucepan and made spaghetti in it. Afterward, he produced a washbasin, filled it with hot water and proceeded to wash dishes… he actually did bring the kitchen sink, so to speak. He also packed in two bottles of wine. In fact, funny enough, we all packed a lot of liquor thinking we were the only ones who would. By the end, we had; 2 bottles of wine, a mickey of rye, a bottle of gin, some vodka, and a 26oz of jack daniels. Shortly after we ate, Tess and Jade arrived. They made themselves some dinner and we all sat around and chatted. At one point we talked with some of the other campers. During this exchange, a woman had stated “I’m so impressed with all the stuff you guys brought in! I was watching you guys unload pots, pans, sinks, liquor, and even a cake!” as she said it, Marc waved his arms to shush her… Tess spun around with a big grin “I GET CAKE!?”. Thanks, lady. She was mortified when she realized what she had done. Personally, I found it hilarious, but I still gave her a hard time, in jest. We continued to socialize, people came and went to their tents to get bedding set. At one point when everyone was there, I dug out the cake, stuck some candles in and lit them. We all sang happy birthday and I cut the cake. There was just enough for everyone, including the couple that spilled the beans.
That night Erin and I slept in our little tent for the first time since west coast trail. It is a dual entry (door on each side) and she left the fly open on her side. All that separated us from the night air was a thin layer of mesh to keep the bugs out. It was just a small change, but it really changed the atmosphere of the tent. It made it feel like I was even more open and exposed to the wilderness. It was pleasant but a little strange, it surprises me how a few millimeters of nylon can provide so much more security in my mind.
The hike out was surprisingly uneventful… aside from the swarm of mosquitos, I suppose. The bridge was repaired so we didn’t need to kick our boots off. I was able to round up some of the garbage I had spotted on the way in. I have a habit of picking up litter on the trail. I always try to come out with full pockets. At the trailhead, we all changed out of our sweaty clothes and searched our coolers for cold drinks. We then decided to hit a restaurant in town to grab some greasy pub food before heading home. Not sure why, but my body craves greasy food after hikes… of course, I always crave greasy food.
Posted in Hiking and tagged Alberta, backcountry, backpacking, hiking, Jasper, Outdoorswith 2 comments.