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canada general hiking trip reports

Mount Assiniboine Redux: Day One

Many moons ago I was 34 weeks pregnant and hiked from Sunshine Meadows through to Mount Assiniboine and out to Mount Shark in three days. It was wonderful, although getting in and out of a tent was challenging, and on the last day my feet were so swollen I had to hike in sandals instead of hiking boots.

This time around we decided to see if we could make it more challenging by taking a 3¾ year old boy with us, and try and convince him to walk the whole way under his own steam. Because he really is getting too heavy to carry.

Fifteen kilometres per day over four days… what could possibly go wrong?

The forecast was for gorgeously sunny warm weather for the next four days. As we started out around 8.30am, it was already terribly pleasant out.

We climbed up the enormous hill from Sunshine Village up to the Meadows (disclaimer – hill not actually enormous, just tends to feel that way). And then spent some time loitering by Rock Isle Lake and waiting for the rest of the group to catch up. Which they did! Before we had been eaten by mosquitos. But that kind of set the tone for the rest of the trip. There are some very well fed mosquitos out along that trail.

Soon after we hit our only patches of snow, just before Lake Howard Douglas. It was the cause for much joy and throwing of snowballs.

And then the descent to the Lake. And look, we’re nearly at Citadel Pass aren’t we?

Getting from Lake Howard Douglas to Citadel Pass at small child pace takes a bit longer than one would expect though. This was another theme for the trip – readjusting expectations so that 2km/hour seemed like a pretty good pace.

Thankfully a dinosaur turned up to chase the small child most of the way to Citadel Pass. It took to hiding behind trees, and in dinosaur holes, and then leaping out at the small child. Yes, this is a valid motivational tactic. Shhh.

Above is a photo of small child hiding from incoming dinosaur, and below a fearful child running for his life as a slightly apathetic dinosaur pursues him.

Finally we made it to the Pass for a late lunch, only arriving a little later than the rest of the group. And there was much lazing around and swigging of champagne to forestall the effects of mountain lassitude. Meanwhile Mount Assiniboine hovered pointily in the background.

The descent to Porcupine Campground starts off beautifully, but then seems to keep going forever and ever until you’re sure you must be dropping into the very bowels of the earth itself in some kind of Verneian nightmare. But then you end up in a nice little busy valley with a freezing cold stream, and quite a few other campers.

It was much quieter last time we stayed here, but that may have been because camping fees were still charged then, these days it’s officially free to camp at Porcupine, which is a pretty nice deal.

So the small child spent time throwing rocks in a stream, and then frolicking in a mesh tent with the even smaller child, while the large people made food, erected tents, collected water and killed tigers.

And eventually they all went to bed, and were mightily relieved that mosquitos are kept at bay by tents.

Hiking distance: 14km
Distance covered by small child: 14km plus additional running to and fro and general gallivanting metres
The 2010 version: Here

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bikes canada general moosling trip reports

Bikepacking Jumpingpound Ridge

With a couple of sunny days at our disposal, a new set of bike bags for Alex finally complete, it seemed about time for an overnight bike adventure.

We’d been hoping to do a big loop from home and out into K-Country, via the Elbow loop. It’s still in poor shape following the floods though, so instead we opted for good old Jumpingpound Ridge, where the camping is free and the views can’t be beaten.

The road is still closed to cars, hurrah, and so we had a quiet ride out, much like last time.

This time we were riding early enough to hit wildflower season though, which was nice.

Once we hit the trailhead for our path up to the summit though, the flowers disappeared and the boy was kicked out of his trailer to walk up. Some genius had placed geocaches every 200 – 300 metres along the path. Usually this would annoy me, but on this day, it was perfect bait to lure on a small boy who started to get a little fed up with jumping over roots.

The last push up to the ridge over, we settled in just below the summit to cook dinner in the same spot as last time. Last time it was a bit cold, with a wind picking up that was bringing rain with it. This time it was eerily still, and swarming with mosquitos.

We ran around in circles, slapping and stomping as we enjoyed our dinner and the views. The mosquitos weren’t actually terribly bitey, most of them just hovered in confusion, not sure what to do with the vast expanses of delicious food that had turned up before them. They were a good incentive to get the tent set up though, which we did, piece by piece, in between running around in circles to shake off the clouds of mosquitos (except for Alex, who was for too dignified for such behaviour).

We didn’t bother with the fly on the tent, as the forecast was good, and it was easy to keep an eye on any incoming weather from where we were. We lay in the tent, and eventually switched from mosquito hiding and sky watching, to actual sleep.

A few storms rolled around on the far edge of the horizon overnight. We heard low rumbles of thunder, and watched lightning flashing in the distance. But the sky above us stayed clear, and filled with stars, and the temperature dropped enough to scare the mosquitos away.

The next day dawned wonderfully clear and warm. I watched bits and pieces of the sunrise from the tent, occasionally sticking my head up to acknowledge the different colours banding along the horizon.

As tempting as it would have been to keep lying in the tent, the sun was starting to shine on us with intent, and we had a 3.5 year old in there with us, who is quite insistent that if the sun is up, he should be up.

It was still a lazy and meandering sort of disassembly of camp. There was tea to be drunk, and gear to be thoughtfully rearranged in new bags, as we meditated on the optimal arrangement for the future.

On the descent we found just one surprise drift of snow – not too bad if you’re just out for a day trip, but a small challenge to get around with fully loaded bike and trailer. That was nothing to the next challenge though. As I stopped to photograph Alex coasting down a section of trail, and then off into the distance, put the camera down – and then the singletrailer exploded! The wheel bounced off down the hill in a most poetic fashion. Actually, there wasn’t so much an explosion, as just the wheel coming off and bouncing away. Which did cause Alex to stop pretty quickly.

Here the boy looks despondent as Alex re-seats the bearing into the wheel so it could lock on properly. No rocks were harmed in the making of this photograph.

The final hurdle was the fording of the de-bridged river, which was flowing just a little higher than last year. I tried riding it, and ended up falling in. Which was fine, as I’d been riding in sandals all weekend, due to a forgetting-I-had-flat-pedals-on-my-bike-still incident. After seeing my less than stylish crossing, Alex opted to just walk across as well. I went to throw him my sandals for the attempt, and one fell short, and started floating away downstream. Cold footed lurching and squealing ensued, as I rescued the errant sandal and returned it to Alex.

The rest of the ride passed without incident, and we even made it back in town in time for the Canada Day parade (which was apparently too noisy, so we didn’t stay for the whole thing anyway).

Total trip distance: 33km (Day 1: 18km, Day 2: 15km)
Total elevation gain: 860m (807m of that on Day 1)
More details: We started and finished at the Dawson Recreation/Camping Area, where the Cox Hill trail joins the road. The road is currently closed to public vehicles beyond that point. And we took the trail directly beneath the summit to reach the ridge. Our packing list was much the same as last year, but with no diapers and more spare clothes/underpants for the boy. We did take less water, and now we both have fancy Porcelain Rocket bike bags, everything is much easier to carry.

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bikes canada general trail running

Rundle’s Revenge – The Iron Donkey edition

Rundle’s Revenge – mountain biking a 12.5km loop on Saturday, and trail running the same loop on Sunday. Up at the Canmore Nordic Centre. I did it back in 2012, and completed the “Half Donkey”, with 50km of biking and 25km of running. Apparently that wasn’t hard enough, so the next time round I signed up for the Full Iron Donkey. 100km of biking, and 50km of running. Just on the verge of being impossibly stupid, yet attainable. In 2013 the race was cancelled due to the floods, and I heaved a massive sigh of relief, as I was in no way even close to being fit enough. And so my entry rolled over to 2014.

And suddenly, it was the day before the race. Was I ready? I didn’t feel terribly ready. But I was at least vaguely optimistic that I might be able to complete the course. Maybe.

From the very first lap on my bike, my knees started aching, and my back muscles were feeling painfully tight (I’m not sure what they were trying to achieve, but hopefully I can work it out and stop them from doing it again). The trails were quite greasy from the rain the night before, and some of the downhill rooty sections were downright treacherous. I drew blood once in a mini wipe out before slowing things down a little and keeping it conservative.

On the plus side, I’d self seeded almost perfectly at the start, to the point where I was actually riding sections of trail all on my own right from the very first lap, despite the hundreds of other riders on the course. Things pretty quickly settled into a rhythm of riding old familiar trails, slowing down to eat on the double track sections, then replenishing my food stores as I looped back around by the daylodge.

On lap 3 I caught up to a rider who seemed to be faster than me, or at least a very similar speed. I was following him up a short steep climb (on Baby Beluga), and wondering why I had caught up with him, when his bike suddenly rose up on its back wheel. Front wheel high in the air, I stared at it, vaguely horrified and wondering what was going on. The bike and rider pirouetted sideways to fall off the trail down the slope instead of falling on me. The rider had fallen stiff as a board, head downhill and clutching at his leg. Cramp. He assured me he was fine, and I rode on.

The day was warm, so the trail was gradually drying out, and was in pretty good shape for my last 4 laps – so as I lost time going slower on the uphills, I was getting faster on the no longer treacherous downhills.

As the trails became quieter and quieter though, with all of the riders doing shorter distances finishing, then all of the faster riders finishing, I was having unhelpful conversations with myself (with my superego?): “Why are you riding so slowly? You are terrible!” “Because I don’t want to cramp, because I know I have to run 50km tomorrow, because my knees hurt!” “Why do your knees hurt so much? Is it because you haven’t been doing your physio exercises? You ride your bike a lot, you should be much faster than this.” “Look, there’s an interesting bird, leave me alone.” “Do you really think you’ll be able to run 50km tomorrow?” “I’m going to try.” “Hah!”

The fun descents were distracting though, and a penultimate lap was finally followed up by a no-stopping-for-anything final lap, which was my fastest of the day, hurrah, leading to a finish in 8hours 10minutes. 100km, 2800m elevation gain.

And then it was time to stop, and soak in a cold lake. Which stung. I didn’t even think about chamois cream beforehand, but it probably would have been a good idea. Then lots of stretching, and trying to eat. Although I’d been trying to rely on eating lots of actual food, my stomach was still feeling angry and unsettled as a result of the days exertions.

…

8am, standing on the starting line again, Sunday morning. I set off, and was pleasantly surprised to discover my legs weren’t feeling as painful as they could have done. I ran all the way up the first hills. I was doing ok! But I was very definitely feeling tired.

The first lap was easiest – there were people everywhere to talk to, to listen to, to watch. Second lap, my people started disappearing. Third lap, I started running on my own. And by that point, I had already learnt to hate the flowing downhills that were so fun on my bike. I was glad for the rooty trails, as they meant there was less of my brain free to think about how much I was hurting, and although I was stumbling from time to time, I always managed to catch myself. It was an exercise in learning how to suffer cheerfully, and distracting myself looking at trees, squirrels, birds, thinking about what I’d eat at the next aid station (nearly always watermelon and cola on this day), focusing on getting up the next section of trail, remembering people who had been cheering me on, mentally naming the runners who I ran in the vicinity of for kilometres (carrot, jingly bells and flappy pack, you guys were awesome). My mind descended into complete surreality and randomness, and I became wildly emotional. And I ran, and I ran.

I wasn’t setting any pace records, as I struggled up the hills and on the flat, and painful knees had me shuffling down hills too. Weird pains flickered around, but thankfully never settled – except my right IT band, which become more and more angry, so it was painful to bend my right leg. Problematic. But at least I didn’t have cramp. I ended up carrying around my emergency pickle juice for nothing! The one person I tried offering it to was happy to do without.

Then it was penultimate lap (“Penultimate lap! Second last lap! One more to go! Watch the roots, lift your feet, you can do this! You only have to run this bit one more time!”), being overtaken by the winning 50km runner (curse you Andy Reed!), and then it was time for the final lap! (“Last lap! Last lap! Feet! Feet! Feet! Don’t have to do that hill again.”) More watermelon, some more fizzy cola drink at the last aid station. Then run, run, run. Out of water. But nearly there! Dip my buff in the creek that flows across the Georgetown Trail, put it back on my head dripping wet. Run, run… walk a bit, run! Into the stadium and across the finish line at 6hours 15min.

My slowest 50km run yet, but under the most difficult circumstances. Podium photos, more watermelon, sit in a river, and then home. I did it!

(And now I never have to do it again)

(And I get the last laugh Rundle, because two days later, and I’m actually feeling pretty good already)

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canada general hiking moosling trip reports

The Windtower

An afternoon hike up the Windtower…

The boy hiked most of the way up to West Wind Pass. And then from the pass, it was onwards and upwards. Below is the view from West Wind Pass up towards the Windtower.

There were a few snow patches on the traverse around.

Family photos with a 3.5 year old.

After a long scree slog – the summit! Which was alarmingly narrow and surrounded by cliffs, and required keeping a good hold on the boy. Alex is looking down at Canmore, visible in the valley behind Wind Ridge.

And views down the Spray Valley as well.

I started trying to train the boy on doing summit jump photos, but he only agreed to try a couple before giving up on the idea.

The boy looks out from the wind shelter on the summit of the Windtower.

Looking over the edge, and trying to convince the boy not to throw rocks.

Descending the scree once again…

Distance: ~10km
Elevation gain: ~950m

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bikes canada general trip reports

Part 2: Riding Kananaskis Lakes to Fernie! (Or “Everything is awesome!”)

I woke around 4.30am to the sound of birds. I’m not sure why birds are always so excited about the impending sunrise, but for half an hour or so there, they just wouldn’t shut up about it. At least I wasn’t in a tent in Australia, where the birds really know how to make a convincing racket.

Some more sleep, and more sliding around in the tent, and off the short sleeping mat, and over to one side of the tent, then the other, and it was after 6am. A quick snack and then packing up and hitting the road. I was due at Elk Pass around 7am – or maybe 6.30am – to meet Kate, who would be riding to Elkford with me.

After a few kilometres on the road, I was stomping about in the misty carpark at the trailhead, eating a little more food and trying to keep warm in the cool damp air. Kate was dropped off, there was a flurry of activity and excitement, and then we set off up the frozen earth and snow of the Hydroline trail at around 7.30am.

Climbing up and up to reach the open section of trail under the powerlines at Elk Pass was basically the only steep climb of the day, and it didn’t take anywhere near so long as I was worried it might. A lot more snow had melted off in the last week, and the snow that was there was mostly solid enough to be quite rideable.

We came across our only set of bear prints there – what I think was a black bear, that had definitely been heading in the opposite direction on the trail for a while.

By the time we reached the Elk Pass picnic table, we were actually feeling awake! Then sun was out, we snacked some more, then were nearly trampled to death by an enormous herd of backpacking teenagers.

The far side of the pass was already getting muddier in the full sunlight. And there was more snow! How rude. But the valley was opening up in front of us, and there were new mountains to see!

We turned out onto the road near Elk Lakes and were astonished to find that we were in a beautiful wide open valley with a really nice well packed gravel road. The weather was looking great, the day was warming up, and the road started trending downhill. It all seemed a little too good to be true.

The route we were following was along the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. Which means it is where the Tour Divide bike race travels each year. Which means this was also a little bit of a scouting mission, because I’m planning to try and race the Tour Divide next year, which is an exciting and alarming prospect.

On the gear testing side of things, my bike was holding up well, the load was easy to pedal along, and I love my Porcelain Rocket bags.

As we pedalled along, gradually losing altitude, the Elk River got bigger and bigger. And the road kept disappearing off into the distance, wonderful and car-free, with no bears, gorgeous views, and the occasional elk or squirrel.

Eventually, we did start standing up on our pedals a little more often. Behinds that aren’t used to long days in the saddle do eventually complain. My knees got a little sore. And we finally saw a couple of cars. But then somehow it was 3pm, and we were in Elkford!

There isn’t an awful lot in Elkford. Kate wasn’t due to be picked up for a while yet, so we decided to just keep riding together on the highway to Sparwood. It’s a small highway, with a lot of mine traffic (there are mines in both Elkford and Sparwood), but everyone was very polite, and gave us lots of room. Which was good, because we were beginning to feel the distance at that point. And once you’re back in civilisation, it’s hard to re-gain the “cycling forever through an isolated wonderland” feeling. So 35km couldn’t be over quick enough – although it was interrupted at one point by Alex, who found us, offered to take a couple of my bags, and to give Kate a lift to Sparwood if she wanted – tempting, but no, we kept riding.

And we made it!

The Sparwood truck is an awesome landmark, and everything is awesome.

But I still wasn’t done – my friend Kat met me in Sparwood, and after farewelling Kate, we set off towards Fernie. Thankfully Kat is a strong rider, experienced cycle tourer, and apparently also a super-domestique. She pulled me along to Fernie easily, and I nearly collapsed with relief when I saw the Fernie welcome sign. Not too soon though, because we were staying in the provincial campground – out the other side of town and up an enormous hill!

But I made it!

Distance: 154km
Elevation gain: 1123m

And in honour of the song that was stuck in our heads all day… now it can be stuck in your head too: