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 Death Of A Coyote
In recent years, the local coyote population around my parents’ farm has exploded. We see them everywhere, and hear them yelping all night. We also hear the farm dogs barking at them all night. The general agreement among farmers and hunters is that coyotes are a pest and are to be shot on sight. They will kill farm animals, pets, and game species all the same.
Up until this point in my life, I had never actively hunted coyotes and during hunting season I avoided shooting at them for fear of spooking the deer I was actually after. Over the years, I came to notice that deer dont seem particularly phased by gunfire. I have been to more than one shooting competition where we had to shut down a range while we waited for deer to clear off. So, with the coyote population up, and my excuses to leave them be, worn rather thin, I decided this year deer hunting season is also coyote season.
As a relevant aside, I have talked with a few people, a few times, about how much ammunition to bring hunting. Some hunters will joke “you should only need one”, some will say “Two, incase you need a follow-up shot”. I have a friend that ran out of ammo while hunting and had to finish off a cow moose with a knife, while she was trying to stand back up. I, usually take somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 bullets, and have never needed more than two, I have been lucky so far.
On the second day of opening weekend, I was slowly making my way through the woods and found myself standing in a patch of trees on the North edge of a valley. Below me, I spotted movement. It was two coyotes walking through the tall brown grass with ears back and tails down. I have found that coyotes either walk as though guilty or trot as though they haven’t a care in the world. These two looked suspicious. I brought my rifle to my shoulder and found one in the scope. I squeezed the trigger… and everything went wild. One coyote dropped, the other ran West in the valley, and 20 yards West of them, a large mule deer buck sprinted up the far hill. I trained my optic on him and watched for a chance. No way my 243 was going to push 95 grains of lead through that brush and do anything other than wound it. I noticed movement in the grass, the coyote that had fallen was slowly getting up, clearly mortally wounded. I immediately shot it again, he moved no more. I was down to three bullets in the gun. The second coyote, perhaps unsure of what the noise was, circled back and stood between me and his deceased companion. I took aim and made a clean miss at an embarrassing 87 yards (ranged after the fact). He ran east then south across the valley along an old beaver dam, stopping to look at up me again. I took another chance shot and missed again. I felt good about both shots but somehow neither touched hide or hair. In a flash of fur he was gone. I had one lonely bullet left and I wasn’t about to use it on a coyote knowing full well a big mule deer was somewhere nearby.
I jogged down the hill and checked that the coyote was dead and then walked home for more ammunition, all the while wondering how my marksmanship had been so poor. I have more than once heard old timers tell me that there’s something magic about coyotes, one of the few animals that you seem to miss more shots than you make. Perhaps its their size that makes guessing distance deceiving, maybe its their wily nature, maybe it supernatural… or, my guess, is that its something subconscious. Coyotes are described as a lot of mean nasty things by many people, but at the end of the day, they are a wild dog and to me, that makes it a bit of a hard trigger pull.
I went out that evening and circled back to get pictures of my first coyote. I find it interesting that I have been hunting for nearly 20 years and somehow never got around to shooting a coyote. I approached the downed animal and he laid in an unnatural pose, a pile of fur with a foreleg stuck awkwardly out the side. I lifted his surprisingly heavy body and laid his head on a log, a slightly more dignified pose. I got some hunting photos and inspected its teeth, its k9s worn almost flat. This animal lived a long happy life here. I considered taking its hide, almost out of a sense of obligation to not have it feel like a waste, but it wasn’t particularly nice, given the time of year.
I took the photos and went to my hunting blind for an evening sit and reflected on the days events. I learned that if I’m not going to be a better shooter, perhaps I’d better up my ammo count to 6. Next time I see coyote, I am going to take more time to observe them. I can’t imagine the two of them could have taken down a grown mule deer buck, but they sure looked like they were aiming to try. I wouldn’t say I feel bad about shooting a coyote, and I certainly plan on shooting more. However, some small part of me has to at least respect the plight of the coyote, they haven’t many friends in this lonely world and they’re just out there hunting, like I am. The only difference is, if they aren’t successful, they dont survive. Maybe its because I miss my old dog, or maybe its my recent time in Nepal surrounded by Buddhists that has softened me. I guess I’m of two minds, or just a hypocrite, but I feel bad for the coyotes while actively hunting them… and I doubt I’ll ever change.
Posted in Hunting and tagged Alberta, hunting, Outdoorswith 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.