One of our many trips up Moose Mountain this season on a beautiful late October day. A quick drive out from the city, and a rewarding summit that overlooks Calgary to the east and as seen here the Elbow range as Barkley and I pose for photographers.
Packed up the Toyota and took off to the coast for a little run (Victoria Marathon). Forgot how beautiful Victoria was. Just a couple of shots from Vancouver and Victoria as autumn made it's way to the coast.
"Music in the soul can be heard by the universe" - Lau Tzu
I first discovered this valley as a young grasshopper. During my inaugural voyage into this land, I was immediately overwhelmed by it's beauty and scale. But also, I remember looking far above me and seeing trails that appeared to switch back into the clouds. These were Lake O’hara's alpine routes (which of course I was forbidden to venture), and I so longed to tear away and explore its peaks and ridges years after I returned home. Finally much later and all growed up, on a perfect autumn day in September, I would be unleashed and allowed to run free to discover it's secrets.
I arrived at the parking lot to this promise land shortly after sunrise only to watch all the prepared souls (who booked a spot at least 3 months earlier) leaving on the bus up the access road without me. So in an act of defiance, I scaled the pearly gates at the base and began my own unauthorized ascent up the gravel road toward Nirvana.
Pack on my back, Valkyries in ear, rations in toe. Senses attune. Lungs and legs long since readied. In an earthly hour, I made the 11km climb up the access road to the lodge. I paused at Lake O’hara, traced my finger along my map, and readied my mind for the ambitious navigation of this entire alpine valley. With a ½ powerbar and a couple of deep breaths, I set my compass toward the Wiwaxy Gap.
Here, I pause to record my retirement home. Lake O'hara Lodges. On the left above the tree line, Wiwaxy gap gives way to Huber Ledges and onto Lake O'esa (camera center). Camera right above tree line: Yukness Ledges begin on way to Opabin Plateau.
After passing a half dozen groups on my way up, I leap frogged over a couple of nimble "Ultra Marathoners" just before the summit of Wiwaxy Gap (yes they felt the need to tell me they were Ultra Marathoners for some reason). Here a vantage on the route facing west before my fleeting descent down to Lake O'esa (mouse over to see route).
I paused briefly at Lake O'esa and continued onto Yukness Ledges. While I traversed its steep rocky ledges, the nimble yet delicate fingers of Ohlsson traverse Chopin’s Nocturnes in my mp3 player. I can't help but be struck by the similarity of the gracefulness of his hands to the way my feet grace the ground as I run.
First you must understand the mechanics of both. The angles of the joints of the fingers, hand, wrists, elbows and shoulders as he moves from key to key. The lean of the trunk. The angles of the foot, ankle, knee and hip as I move from foot contact to foot contact.
But this only tells part of the story. You see, it’s not just the notes on the score that create memorable music. It’s really about how the musician interprets and conveys the emotions of the composer to the audience. The speed of depression and retraction of the key. The angle, direction and force with which it is touched. How each note when created, relates to the note next to it. These are all influenced not only by the skill, but by the emotional state of the pianist.
As an artist masters their craft, it transcends the physical mechanics involved and becomes a medium for conveying information. A means for the artist to connect with their audience, be it a crowd of adorning fans or simply themselves. A connection that can profoundly affect the audience’s state of being. Emotion – medium – evoked emotion. By absorbing and translating a human emotion, doesn’t the piano become part of Ohlsson, Chopin and the people witnessing their performance? Ohlsson is breathing life into his piano!
As I effervescently float along these absurdly steep and rugged ledges, I think not of the angles of my joints, how my foot contacts with the ground or the 20 years I’ve been honing this skill. But instead I feel the sheer exhilaration as I try to interpret the impossible beauty of the Utopia under my foot. This is reflected in the compliance of my limbs and the length and cadence of my stride. I feel I am creating music as I move from foot hold to foot hold. I am playing my music on this landscape. And so doesn’t this landscape and that piano become part of me as well? Am I not bringing this valley to life?
After descending off the Yukness ledges into the grassy valley (camera center behind Lower Opabin Lake), I enter the magical Opabin Plateau. I love the strong late morning light as the sun ignites this larch tree which directs my attention back up the route I just traveled.
As the wind carries me across the Opabin Plateau, I come across Moor Lake as it opens up on Wiwaxy gap and Mt. Hungabee. Wish I had my SLR to capture the vibrant colors of the larches and the electric blue color of this one of many smaller lakes in the Opabin valley.
Eventually, I left the comfort of the valley below and began to climb again, this time up All Souls alpine trail en route to All Souls pass and onto Lake McArthur. As my heart races and I come upon the summit of All Souls pass, I turn and my jaw drops as perhaps the most majestic view I've experienced before is revealed before me. Here my entire journey thus far is in view (mouse over to reveal the route). (Doesn't this remind you of those enchanting maps before the first pages of "Lord of the Rings" or "The Hobbit??)
After pausing to capture that impossible view, I picked my jaw back up off the rocks and dropped back down into the valley leading to Lake McArthur. Along the way, I stop to peer into emerald Schaffer Lake through the kindled larches (camera right). After another 45min of undulating valley, straight out of a masterpiece hanging in the Louvre, and appropriately with a little Clair De Lune in ear, Lake McArthur appears in all it's aqua glory (camera left).
A stitch of Lake McArthur (5 images). Wish I had a polarizing filter to cut down the glare of the afternoon sun on the lake and a poet to describe it's beauty. Well, although I love my S95, I wish I had my 5D and my 17-40L to capture just how surreal this place was.
From Lake McArthur, I begin the long journey back to Lake O'hara lodges and stumbled down the access road to the car. My muscles torn. My joints ache. My mental and physical memory cards full. As I refuel before the drive home, I reflect on my adventure. By playing my notes on it's keys, I breathed life into this valley, and this unforgettable place has now eternally become a part of me, and me a part of it.
A little stroll in the mountains up Burstall Pass to Birdwood and back with Waz and Barkley. Nice little trail I must say. Some day, I'll return to complete the circuit.
Here, Barkley and his favorite running partner Andrew head into Burstall Meadows which sits just below Burstall Pass. Quintessential mountain running.
The view back down Burstall Pass.
The view along Birdwood Pass. Trail running magazine material.
The term epic is a cliche, and perhaps fairly appropriate to describe the Northover Ridge traverse. This is a 3 day back country trip that begins in Kananaskis Country, straddles the Alberta/ BC border and has been on my running radar for years. Finally, on a perfect day in July, I saddled up and escaped early enough to arrive at Upper Kananaskis Lake to scare a couple of courting coyotes out of the parking lot shortly after sunrise.
The route took me along the shores of Upper Kananaskis lake and up Three Isle Lake trail in the wee hours of the morning. I proceeded with trepidation as I would be passing straight through Yogi Bear's hood. I tip toed along with my whistle in my mouth and my bear spray in hand (with my finger nervously on the trigger). About an hour in, I streaked through Forks campground and scared the wool socks off a few dozen Granola's as I whizzed passed on my way to Three Isle Lake.
Left: Leaving Spray Lakes Provincial Park and entering... Right: Three Isle Creek meets Upper Kananaskis River just before Forks campground.
I reached Three Isle Lake in under 2 hours with plenty of spring in my step. I fueled my tank and turned my compass toward this eerily quiet meadow below Mt. Worthington. As I headed forward, I could now see Northover Ridge and it's 9,900ft summit peering down at me (snow covered peak camera center). Visions of drifting over it's long ridge began to dance in my head.
Passing through the flooded meadow, the boggy trail was washed out and difficult to follow. I lost it for over a half hour, however I was in no fear as I spotted the trail ahead as it switch-backed up the col leading up Northover Ridge. I pushed hard and attained Northover Ridge Summit just after 3 hours.
Right: just before the summit of the ridge, I stopped to pester a marmot who seemed distracted. I turned to see what had his knickers in a knot and spotted a mom and cub grizzly across the valley floor not far from where I had just passed. Left: looking back to Three Isle Lake from the ridge.
I had heard tales about the perils that awaited me once I attained the ridge. They were not wives tales. In places, the alpine route was no more than a half foot across, dropped thousands of feet down to the valleys below and unpredictable gale forced winds, sent me sprawling George St. Pierre style on more than one occasion.
In retrospect, I wish I had paused to fire off a couple more images of the ridge itself. After a few kilometers, the ridge flattened out into a meandering alpine trail with a couple million dollars worth of views. Here I float the descent as the ridge gives away down to Northover Lakes.
How do you descend a few hundred feet in a hurry? Why you ski down of course. While I didn’t tote my Rossignol’s on this trip, it turned out I didn’t need them. A pair of New Balance’s did the trick. I easily broke the sound barrier as a controlled slide turned into tumbling cartwheel style down the snow patch. As I turned around and took this shot, you can see the snow route I took down (camera center) and follow it back along a long portion of Northover Ridge.
After taping my shoes back together (the sole peeled off :) I descending the ridge, crossed the border back into Alberta, and headed down toward Aster Lake. Just before the lake, I was sighted by a dozen or so backpackers who were so elated to see me, they relinquished the trail and broke into applause as I ran past them as though in the middle of a championship road race. A moment to pack in my pocket to dig out and relish with a smile as I reflect on my adventures of this life.
I stopped for quick bite and a few photos in this spot as Aster Lake drops down toward Fossil Falls. I haven’t seen many lakes in my journeys as stunning as this one. The only shame is that because it takes a mortal a full hard day to reach it, very few people will get to burn this image into their mind's eye. Good thing I'm not mortal.
Thought I’d go get lost in our big beautiful back yard to celebrate this Canada day, and naturally Centennial Trail seemed the commemorative route of choice.
My day began in Ribbon Creek parking lot as so many of my winter adventures do too. First was an assault of Mt Allan (9200ft). After summiting, I decided the day shouldn’t end so early, so I headed on the alpine route up to the summit of Mt. Collembola (Mt. Allan’s twin at 9150ft). Of course, to return to the car, I had to descend Mt. Collembola and re-ascend Mt. Allan which I didn’t really realize as I’m sure the altitude sickness had set in by that time :p
By the numbers: 25km, 3x9200ft (total of approx 10,000ft elevation gain in 3 climbs). Not sure of the total time (something like 5hrs), because I was delirious by the time I got back to the truck.
Funny side note of the day: I broke the remote to my truck while running and had to jimmy the lock in the parking lot at Ribbon Creek where it just so happens there was 1000 East Indians picnicking right in front of my now honking car alarm. Luckily a couple of them knew how to disable my alarm (mildly suspicious??). So just a quick thank you to those fine Canucks who happened to be picnicking in a parking lot when citizenship called, and a happy Canada Day to all the other car thieves across this fine land!
Incredible Centennial Trail as it nears the summit of Nakiska Ski Resort.
Left: rock pinnacles along Centennial trail, Right: Summiting my 2nd of 3 peaks of the day: Mt. Collembola
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