Ascending Cox Hill : Moose Creek to Lusk Pass

Last night it rained gently several times, so when we got up around 6:30 am everything was soaked.  Although it is never fun to pack up wet gear, the forest smelled clean and fresh and felt very alive, and the wet leaves seemed to glow in the dawn light.

 

After making a quick breakfast and packing up we walked back up to the Pine Woods Loop Trailhead.  As anticipated, the view was stunning, especially as the rising sun began to turn the tops of the mountains across the valley to gold.  It was mesmerizing to watch as the light shifted and played across the varied and textured surfaces.

 

 

We took a few moments to examine the interpretive signs at the day use area, which explained how the valley below had been logged in the 1950's, and was now regenerating. The roads that were used by the logging trucks to remove the timber are now used for hiking and horseback riding trails.

 

We were particularly interested by the photo maps, which indicated that the tiny building we could see improbably perched on the top of a mountain opposite, far above the treeline, was the Moose Mountain Lookout.  At 2,440 m elevation, this fire lookout provides its occupant with a viewing radius of 40 km in which to scan for smoke or fire.  This remote outpost is one of several in the province that form a forest fire detection network.

 

 

In addition, another map named the peaks we were looking at across the valley.  Off in the distance, looking dauntingly tall and steep was Cox Hill. Today the Trans Canada Trail offered several options, one of which was to walk over Cox Hill, making an ascent to around 2,219 m, with a change in elevation of over 750 m over 6 km. The other option was to take the Powderface Trail, which was an old road, and which followed the valley.

 

As we sat at the picnic table enjoying the view we debated our options.  I was in favour of Cox Hill and the spectacular views it was likely to provide, while Sean was in favour of the less strenuous and safer Powderface Trail option. Since the Fundy Footpath Sean has not enjoyed trails that involve steep descents.  Not knowing what lay in store for us today, ultimately we ended up making the wrong choice, with very nearly disastrous consequences.  However, hindsight is 20-20, and at that moment, we were blissfully ignorant of what yet may come.

 

 

As we sat there two pickup trucks pulled up and their occupants began unloading a truly impressive amount of gear into one of the picnic areas transforming their space into one which could easily be confused for a modern kitchen and livingroom.  It was a gorgeous morning, and clearly they intended to make the most of the beautiful Sunday. However, we were left amazed when four chairs, a table cloth, an outdoor carpet, a hammock, several duffle bags, and three coolers had been unloaded, and there was still more to come as we began walking away.  It left us wondering where the line was between being comfortable while spending time in nature, and transporting all the conveniences of home with you to hold nature at bay.

 

 

We made our way back along the forestry track, relishing the lush green left behind by the rain.  Water dripped from the needles in tangy smelling open stands of lodgepole pine, from the leaves of trembling aspen in newer stands of trees, and from the balsam fir in mossy stretches of trail that smelled like Christmas. 

 

We passed lush green meadows filled with yellow and purple wildflowers, and grassy patches that were already bleached blond, the stalks of last summer's wildflowers now offering seeds to begin the next generation of flowers or provide food for small mammals and migrating birds.  In these open patches stands of short, scrubby pines with trunks burned almost black stood in stark contrast to the light grasses.

 

 

It felt like the forest was full of life, and we heard the chatter of Boreal Chickadees among the spruce. Overhead the dry cronking of a Common Raven echoed across the damp morning air.  Small red squirrels scolded us in between collecting fresh pine cones from the forest floor.  Suddenly we spotted a magnificent Spruce Grouse watching us quietly from a young tree a few feet from the trail.  To our delight, it let Sean photograph it without complaint.

 

 

Just before we reached the turnoff to the Dawson Equestrian campground, and the decision point between the Cox Hill and Powderface trails, we crossed a grassy meadow filled with purple blooming thistles and other wildflowers.  While the tall grass completely soaked our shoes and pants in a very unwelcome manner, we were intrigued to observe that almost every single flower in the meadow had a honey bee or a butterfly sitting still among the petals.  The air temperature must have been too cool for them to be active.  It felt like a special opportunity to observe these beautiful insects!

 

 

Although the morning had been mostly overcast, the skies looked like they were clearing up. Not having cell service, we checked the weather forecast on our Garmin InReach device, and it suggested that there was a 40% chance of 0.3 mm of rain for several hours in the afternoon, with a 50% chance around 2 pm.  This didn't sound too bad, the skies looked good, and the temperature was around 12 °C.  So, we decided to climb up Cox Hill.  Sometimes it is important to remember that a 40% possibility of rain isn't the same as a 0% chance. 

 

 

The climbing began through an open stand of tall spruce and pine trees. The dirt footpath was steep, and strewn with rocks and roots, but overall the going wasn't too difficult.  The moss, lichen, and exposed granite on the forest floor reminded us of the Canadian Shield country around the Great Lakes in Ontario and Manitoba.  Breaks in the trees provided stunning views out over the forested hills and mountains around us, providing ample excuses to stop and take a break.

 

 

As we continued upwards sunlight dappled the needle strewn pathway, and the air smelled of warm pine sap.  It made us very grateful that we weren't attempting the climb in a heat wave.  Even so, we took a break about every kilometre so, feeling winded by our heavy packs.  At one of these breaks we were delighted to watch a pair of Red Crossbills busily opening pinecones on top of a nearby tree!

 

 

As we climbed higher and higher on the steep, rocky trail we learned the true meaning of a breathtaking view!  The mountains stretched out into the distance as far as we could see. Dark treed hills in the foreground disappeared into soft blue layers in the distance.  At one point we could even see the towers of downtown Calgary in the distance!

 

 

We were about one kilometer from the top of Cox Hill when we received our first indication that the gorgeous sunny day was about to turn ugly.  As we were gazing out over the magnificent vista in front of us, a very dark cloud began rolling over the top of the mountain behind us.  From our perspective it was impossible to tell if this was just a small raincloud that would blow through, or if it was something larger.

 

 

We stayed put as we watched fingers of mist roll over the mountain top. This was followed by clouds that began swirling and rolling over the peak in a rather unnerving manner.  The wind began to rise, and very suddenly the sun disappeared and it began to pour and then hail!  The chunks of ice were being blown in the wind and they stung when they hit.

 

 

As the temperature dropped rapidly, thunder shook the side of the mountain and echoed off the surrounding peaks.  We took shelter in a stand of spruce trees, huddling from the hail under our umbrellas and out of the wind. Our altitude had transformed the 40% chance of rain into a 100% chance of hail, something neither of us had considered at the trailhead.

 

 

We could hear shrieks and laughter a few moments before we watched three cyclists come flying down the trail from above.  They gave a cheery hello as they shot past us, wearing nothing but tiny cycling shorts and t-shirts. I'm not sure if the shrieks were due to the ice, water, and mud spraying up their backs, the uneven and incredibly steep trail, or the sheet lightening that lit up the clouds around us.

 

 

We stayed sheltered in the trees until the worst of it seemed to have passed.  The hail stopped, being replaced by a steady but gentle rain, and the thunder seemed to have moved away from us. We could see the storm moving off across the landscape, so we ventured back onto the trail for the final push to the top.

 

 

 

 

The trail was now covered in drifts of ice pellets, and it was slippery with running water.  We continued on, climbing steeply upwards through a stand of pine and spruce and then emerging out onto a completely exposed rocky meadow.  The last few hundred meters to the top were on a narrow dirt footpath that switch-backed upwards.  It felt like plummeting down the steep side of the mountain was a distinct possibility. While I was enamoured with the vistas around us Sean marched upward with his eyes locked firmly on the ground in front of his feet.

 

 

Unfortunately, just as we reached the top thunder once again rolled across the sky and it began to rain again.  There was nowhere in the immediate vicinity to take shelter, and a stiff and extremely cold wind was blowing. Despite the lousy weather the views were indeed spectacular, with the sharp, jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains surrounding us and disappearing into the distance.  It felt like we were on top of the world, only unfortunately that was a very unnerving feeling in the midst of a very loud and active storm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We picked our way across the meadow, feeling like we were about to be blown off the mountainside, and then began descending slightly on the far side of the peak.  Sadly, the wind and rain were coming from this direction and it was absolutely freezing cold on the far side!  We took shelter once again in a very small patch of trees, huddling under the tarp to shelter from the worst of the wind and rain.

 

 

As we crouched there, putting on sweaters and rain pants to ward off the cold, and feeling rather sorry for ourselves, a man wearing nothing but tiny orange jogging shorts and a pink t-shirt walked past with three small dogs.  He cheerfully asked "Are you having fun yet?" as he walked by, seeming to vanish into thin air.  The trail ahead consisted of 2 km of open meadow, and we could see down the slope to the tree line, but there was no sign of the man ahead of us as we got back underway.

 

 

The rain continued to fall and the thunder continued to crack and roll around us as we scurried towards the trees as fast as we could.  In an unfair seeming twist of fate, almost as soon as we got into the trees, the thunder and lightening stopped.  Although the rain persisted, it certainly seemed to ease off.

 

 

As we made the long descent a thick fog rolled in, giving the forest and surrounding landscape a magical feeling.  Unfortunately, it was difficult for Sean to enjoy.  He was so cold, wet, miserable, and unnerved by the storm that he pretty much shut down.  He stopped talking, taking photos, or responding to anything, indicating that if he stopped walking forward he wouldn't be able to keep going.  Worst of all, he began to stumble on the steep, muddy, wet path making me worry he would have a bad accident.

It was a very long, steep, relentless descent down a slope of loose rocks and mud.  Everything was wet, leaving little opportunity to stop for a break, which made for a long trudge.

 

 

To make matters worse, we soon discovered that we weren't finished with the climbing!  We descended to the bottom of a valley, only to climb back up a second hill.  The ascent wasn't as long, but it was incredibly steep.  At one point the switch-backed trail was a narrow, thigh deep rut, sunk between two sandy banks.  I have no idea how a bicycle would have navigated the sharp turns in such a deep, narrow rut.

 

 

Eventually we passed over the rocky and exposed peak of the second hill, and began another descent.  Finally, we emerged pit into a heavily logged area.  Almost all the slopes around us had been harvested at some point or another, creating a patchwork of different coloured green squares over the slopes.  The trail bordered a very recently cut square, covered in light green grasses.  Below us we could finally see the gravel surface of the Powderface Trail road.

 

 

As we made the final descent down tight switchbacks through a forest of tall lodgepole pines, the rain finally stopped and the skies began to clear.  At long last we reached the valley bottom, arriving at a bridge over a clear mountain stream, and a parking lot for the trail head.

 

 

We gratefully took a break at the stream, and as I went down to the river to filter some drinking water the sun finally poked its head out from behind the clouds. We quickly laid out as much of our soaking wet gear as we could in the warm sunshine, hoping it would dry. After an hour of drying off and warming up, having a cold drink of water, and eating an energy bar we felt much better.

 

According to some of the maps we'd encountered throughout the day, the Lusk Pass campground was located somewhere between 1-2.5 km from the trail head.  However, we didn't really trust the accuracy of this information, because the distances listed on the local maps and signs seemed to vary.  There were no amenities mentioned on the trail maps for this site, and the trail ahead looked somewhat overgrown with grasses that were soaking wet from the rain.  The path was also slick with mud and riddled with puddles.  Sean walked about 20 min down the trail and found no evidence of the promised campground, so we decided to camp where we were.

 

 

Just past the parking lot was a small clearing in the trees on the side of the trail, and our tent fit into it perfectly.  We had a water source nearby, and the scenery was beautiful as the sun began to set and turn the surrounding mountains to gold.  Several cars with bikes on the back, and two cyclists drove by on the gravel road. 

 

Today was long and challenging, but it was also filled with extreme beauty.  It left us reflecting on how differently people react to the same situation.  Hiking in rain gear makes me too hot, whereas hiking in the rain makes Sean freeze, no matter what.  I love being in remote areas, and as long as I'm not lost, injured, or without dry clothing or sleeping bags to stay warm in I'm perfectly happy.  Sean is more at home closer to civilization.  I rarely worry about the consequences while Sean strives to prepare for every eventuality.  

 

We all learn a lot about ourselves while on the trail.  We end this day grateful to have survived it safely and to have enjoyed the incredible beauty along the way.

  

See you on the trail!

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