Spirit Island Via A Rented Canoe in The Rain
As I am getting older, there’s things that I just thought would come into my life, big and small, that just somehow, for the most part, haven’t. For example, I assumed I would do more snowshoeing and snowboarding trips in the winter, and I always wanted to get more into duck hunting, fishing, and canoeing. I have a real hate on for motorboats though, as I know several people who own them and I end up doing a sizeable amount of winterization each year in exchange for an hour long lap around the lake every two or so years. Though, I am not too sad these things are minimal in my life, I’ve put very little effort into them, usually picking something else to spend my time on. So its always a nice treat when someone else talks me into it.
It wasn’t my idea, few of my adventures are. As is often the case, Natalie had suggested it. Her and her boyfriend Cole were coming to Alberta for the Calgary Stampede and she wanted to do the famous Spirit Island canoe trip. I had never heard of it before her, which is odd, I’m usually pretty up on things.
I drove my barely running Subaru to meet them in Jasper. That evening we went to Pyramid lake so I could practice my fly casting and we had dinner on the beach, souvlaki skewers and a bagged salad, not a bad feed when roughing it. In the morning, we braved the nightmare traffic to get to the downtown shop and get our rental gear and the key for the canoe lock up. From there it was a lengthy drive to Maligne Lake. We parked our vehicles, found our canoe locked on the stand, heaved it to the shore and began loading equipment.
Three’s a crowd in a canoe, you never know who to put in the middle and which side to paddle on. We switched out throughout the day, each time we stopped for a snack or the bathroom. We also had to spin and face into the waves created by the big boats ferrying tourists to spirit island. Stronger canoers with better balance likely wouldn’t have this problem. We eventually rolled into our site, behind some very gear laden video bloggers, they did not appear to be having much fun when not filming. They should take up writing, its the thinking-mans vlog. We found a nice campsite near the shore and made ourselves comfortable around one of the fire pits, the other had clearly been commandeered by another group of older gentlemen who really made it into a nice kitchen, complete with tarp a tarp roof. We would later befriend them, nice guys who were there for the fishing, and having some luck.
After making camp, we loaded back into the canoe, less our gear, and went further down the lake to our intended destination of Spirit Island… though we couldn’t actually go onto the island, we just canoed to the view point, also at the time it was a small peninsula. The whole thing was a technicalities mess, but we had fun on the walking path and on the stairs getting us up nice and high to see it. I kept being told its a spiritual place with great significance to the local First Nations but no one there, or online, was able to be specific about that. The only useful information I am able to find is that someone in 1960 won a Kodak photo contest by taking its picture. While we were there as tourists, less good tourists were also there, hauled in on a boat that they didn’t paddle themselves. They did however, feel very comfortable climbing into our canoe, left unattended on shore, to get some pictures. I was tempted to push it out with them in it, allowing them some impromptu paddle practice, but everyone panicked and scattered as I got close. Please dont touch my things, even if they’re just things I rented.
We got our pictures, and our fill of fellow tourists and made out way back. I fished a bit from the canoe without so much as a nibble. Along our journey, Cole was wearing a painted straw cowboy hat, mother nature took offence and a gust of wind blew it off. As penance for that one time in 1997 that I littered, karma planted that cowboy hat right on my beak. Not sure if you’ve ever had a solid cowboy had sneak up on you from the front, but its a rather disorienting experience. I wasn’t paying attention then suddenly a white blur slapped me and blocked my vision, for a moment I thought seagull had taken offence to may paddling technique. Once back at the site, my sore nose and I continued to fish the shore and continued to do little more than practice casting. Dinner was communal affair, a lovely South African family had joined us and tried their very first smores. At some point a young family showed up and couldn’t find space, the dad was frustrated, but polite, and suggested everyone get out their paperwork as it appeared someone was in imposter, camping illegally. There was brief moment of us all looking at each other suspiciously. Before papers could be produced, the final empty campsite was found buried in the woods.
Three in a canoe was a crowd, but so was our sleeping situation as we were only able to book a single site and it was explained to me clearly and slowly by Parks Canada that it was one tent per site. A second tent would cause steep fines, ridicule, exile, and making fun of my hiking pants. So the three of us spent the night in the tent. Luckily it was quite large so we didn’t have to cuddle, though, due to weather, I did offer. Fair bet that I snored, but somehow no one mentioned it.
The last day of our trip we paddled against the wind, all three as hard as we could, as the rain came down. The ride out was a fun look at the scenery, the ride in felt like voyageurs hauling furs up river, methodic, hard rowing, and lacking in fun. Admittedly, a song would have helped but none of us are singers. I sat in the middle of the boat, grinding the tops of my feet into the hull under my own weight, when stopped on the shore for rest, I stuffed what I could under me but by then my feet were already asleep and my ankles sore.
After what felt like a few days paddling we arrived at the docks. Cole got his truck while Natalie and I unloaded and stowed the canoe. Cole backed down to us and we loaded up, he also informed me that his heater core had failed recently so he just plugged the lines off because he usually didn’t need it anyway, so now he had no heat. Initially, my instinct was to feel bad for him, but then I remembered he lives somewhere that doesn’t require his vehicle to have heating. We changed into dry clothes and warmed up in my car while eating whatever snacks were left. From there it was a drive into town, an afternoon lunch, then a goodbye. They had to get to Banff, and I had to get home. I haven’t seen them since, but Natalie has invited me on her next group canoe trip, Cole has politely declined his invitation, but I’ll see them both soon in the Philippines, hopefully there’ll be less cold rain and paddling against the wind, but with my trips, you never really know.
Post story
Just as a post amble, not much technical to this one, we rented a canoe and all the gear from a local shop, its a pretty sought after campsite that Natalie was able to get her hands on. Really just a big thank you to Natalie on this one, it was her idea, her planning, and all her photographs. Cole and I just paddled, and I fished a bit. As a side story, I was in a customers house for work and he had an old framed photo of Spirit Island from, I would guess the 60s, that he said he took himself. Something about that warmed my heart, knowing people have been going to see this little place for a long time and someday Ill be the old guy with the photo framed in my house that people will comment on. As for canoe camping, it was as much fun as I thought it would be, even with the weather. It also has the advantage that you dont have to be as concerned about weight, so you can bring little luxuries like a full sized pillow.
Posted in Fishing, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, canoe, Jasper, maligne lake, Outdoors, spirit islandwith 1 comment.
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.