Perfect Day : Spray Lakes West to Buller Mountain

Last night we heard the sounds of a wolf singing up in the hills, and Common Loons duetting out on the lake.  We were up early, before many of the other campers, packing up on yet another warmish, bone dry, clear morning.

As the sun came up and turned the face of the nearest of the Three Sisters Mountains across the water to pink, we couldn't help but marvel at its patterns and details.  The rocky face featured waves and swirls, like the wrinkles in a blanket.  As the light shifted and changed it looked closer and then farther away again, having a character all its own.

We were soon heading off across the long, straight Three Sisters Dam at the end of the reservoir.  The soft blues, yellows, and pinks of the still smoky sky were reflecting on the smooth surface of the water. Around us the details of the mountains were mostly obscured by haze, their forms softened into blue layers of receding shapes.

On the far side of the dam we picked up a dirt footpath that wove along the shores of the lake.  We were sheltered from the gravel road beside us by a thick band of conifers and vegetation, leaving us free to enjoy the gorgeous views across the lake as the sun rose.

A short distance later we came to the Driftwood Day Use Area, which featured a line of shaded picnic tables tucked into the trees along the shore.  The views across the water, to the forested slopes of Goat Mountain on far shore were stunning.  An interpretive sign explained that the Spray Lake Reservoir was created in 1949 through the construction of the Canyon Dam at the other end of the waterbody.  The dam was built to meet Alberta's growing energy needs.  It not only flooded the valley where the Spray Lakes used to be, but it also diverted the water that used to flow down the Spray River to Banff into Canmore instead. 

The sign also indicated that the large grassy shores of the reservoir are the result of fluctuating water levels, which can apparently change up to 17 m from the spring low to the fall high. It seems this is a popular spot for fishing stocked lake trout and mountain whitefish.

We took a short break at the picnic tables of the Driftwood Day Use Area to admire the view and do a little catch-up writing, and then continued on along the shore.

Not too long after that we climbed up to the Smith Dorian Spray Lake Rd, crossed over it, and began climbing up a narrow dirt track into the trees.  From our campsite across the lake it looked like the mountains on this side of the reservoir plunged straight down to the water at impossibly steep angles.  This had left us wondering how difficult this section of trail would be.  To compound our fears, we'd read the description in online forums and by a Trans Canada Trail book, which included words like death defying, scrambling across loose scree, pointless ups and downs, and boring with almost no views. Happily, we couldn't have disagreed more with this assessment.

It seemed to be the perfect day for hiking - warm and sunny but not too hot.  The smell of wood smoke was strong in the air, but we enjoyed a gentle breeze that caused the tall lodge pole pines to sway and creak high above us. 

As we followed the earth footpath along the forested slopes, we were relieved to find that it wasn't technically challenging for us.  The trail was designed for cyclists, so it ceaselessly wove and undulated to help them climb.  The constant and rather steep ups and downs were tiring to walk with our extra heavy packs, but the trail was wide enough where we felt safe, and the curves were even banked to help fast moving mountain bikes stay on course.

Early on we crossed a section of trail that traversed a rock slide.  The trail was clear and easy to follow, but looking up we could see and feel the power and force of the slide that must have occurred. Apart from active volcanoes, it is not too often that we get a chance to see the earth shift and reshape itself.  To stand on the side of a mountain which had recently done so was both awe inspiring and humbling.  Your sense of self and your place in nature shifts dramatically when you are amid grandeur capable of wielding such raw force.

Over the course of the morning we detected a pattern in the trail. We would climb up and up and up, coming to one or more lookouts with fantastic views over the mountains. 

After the high points we would begin to descend again, often skirting around the edge of a hill on a narrow footpath with a steep drop to one side.  In these areas we always desperately hoped that no cyclists would come around the blind curves, because there was absolutely nowhere for us to go to let them safely pass, and I think it wouldn't have been too safe for them to stop.  Our luck held, and even though it was a long weekend we never had any unfortunate encounters.

After the descents we would then typically cross a picturesque wooden footbridge over a stream.  Some of these rocky crevices had beautiful cascading waterfalls, whereas others had run dry.

After these picturesque bridges we would usually come to the turn-off for a day use area down near the highway, or we would pass through the day use area itself.  From there we would begin steeply climbing back up the slope, and the pattern would repeat itself.

For most of the morning we followed the undulating, meandering light brown curve of the trail through dense forests of lodge pole pine and spruce.  Many of the pine and some of the spruce stands had been affected by something - possibly the mountain pine beetle, which is present in the area and attacks most species of pine, as well as some non-pine hosts, including interior spruce, Douglas fir, and western larch.  In any event, in some of the forest stands we passed through the trunks of the trees were still standing tall and closely packed together, but their branches were stiff, curled downwards, and blackened.

In other areas the forest was still healthy, the dark green boughs of the conifers reaching out into the beams of sunlight, and the air full of birdsong.  In the stands of lodge pole pine we could hear the wind above us, and looking up we could see the feather-like silhouettes of the tall trees swaying against a blue sky.

In many areas the steeply sloped forest floor was covered in thick mats of emerald green moss.  A layer of conifer seedlings and small plants grew up under a dense understory.  We spotted at least four male Spruce Grouses over the course of the morning, picking their way over the moss and hiding among the plants.  After yesterday it seemed like all the females and young were hanging out along the Spray River and Goat Creek, while all the males were living it up along the Spray Lakes Reservoir.

When we came to the turnoff for the Sparrowhawk Day Use Area the trail was full of people.  Three couples were walking up the steep mountain slope, and we could hear more voices coming from higher up above us. Up until this point we had only seen one other cyclist early in the morning, along the shore of the reservoir.  As we walked into the open area designated as a parking lot we could see a commotion and hear a young man crying.  After depositing our backpacks on an empty bench we went over to see if we could help or offer supplies out of first aid kit.  As we reached the small group consoling the man we soon discovered that he was in fact not injured but had instead gotten his new white Nike runners dirty on the trail.  While I am sure they are a terrific pair of footwear our ability to relate to a grown man reduced to tears over getting a small splash of mud on his new shoes while hiking a path out in nature did not make us sympathetic.

After a short break in Sparrowhawk we headed into a short section of flat hydro corridor or old logging road. The double tracks of the grassy path paralleled the Smith Dorian and Spay Lake Rd.  Even though we were separated from it by a thick and relatively dense band of conifers, huge clouds of choking dust blew right through the trees every time a car or truck drove past.  Two cyclists passed us, commenting on thick clouds, just as we were having flashbacks to walking the endless gravel range roads of Saskatchewan.

Soon the open, flat, easy track came to an end, and we climbed back up into the trees.  The next section of trail was characterized by a series of rock slides.  Here a sign warned that the High Rockies Trail is closed in this area from Nov 1st to May 1st due to avalanche control for the highway below.  Earlier in the day we had also passed signs warning that if we found unexploded ordinance, we shouldn't touch it.  The unique realities and challenges we have faced on the national trail continue to astound us.  

So far the High Rockies Trail has been kept in immaculate condition, and I can't imagine how much trail maintenance is required to keep a path open that is subject to rock slides and both planned and natural avalanches each and every year.  Hat's off and a huge thank you to the trail crews in this area for doing such a fantastic job!

The first open area of exposed rock that we crossed was the result of a relatively recent avalanche or rock slide. We climbed up an exposed hill of loose rock, turned a curve, and suddenly saw the extent of the destruction.  A huge swath had been ripped down the side of the mountain, taking the trees, plants, and soil with it, and leaving only chunks of rock.

Upon closer inspection, several of the upturned stones looked like they had fossils of ancient sea creatures embedded in them.  Another looked like it had a picture inscribed in its soft surface.   Despite standing in a swath of destruction that must have shook the valley I was amazed at all that could be seen and discovered.  For  a brief moment I wished I had taken more Geology classes.

As we crossed the open area we noticed small patches of bright orange lichen, tiny grasses and delicate plants, and small clumps of moss beginning to take hold among the bare rocks. It was amazing to see how fragile and delicate the first return of life was, yet at the same time how resilient.

As we neared the far side of the slide we got a lovely surprise.  A plump Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel was perched atop a larger rock in the sun, it's tiny paws clasped over its rather rotund belly.  As Sean reduced his distance to use the birding scope and camera it dove down among the rocks with an indignant squeak, only to re-emerge a few meters later.  This time it lay stretched full length on a boulder, its stripes clearly visible and its chin resting on its front paws like it was watching to see what foolish and entertaining things the humans were going to do next.

Not only was the rock slide impressive, but the views of the bright blue reservoir and the mountain range opposite were equally stunning.

After passing through another beautiful and sun dappled patch of forest we emerged onto the site of another rock slide. This one had occurred less recently, and a layer of pine saplings and deciduous bushes had sprung up in a lush light green layer over the exposed rock.  They were interspersed with beautiful pink wildflowers, which lent colour to the landscape.

We crossed another forested area, and emerged into yet another slide area.  However, this one had occurred a long time ago.  The trail itself was still light grey chunks of rock, but large spruce trees towered above our heads, a lush understory had developed, and the ground was beginning to develop a covering of moss. Together these avalanche sites clearly showed how resilient nature is, and how the mountain was healing the gashes left behind by the slides and reshaping itself into a different form.
After the slides we walked through an area of lodge pole pines affected by forest fire.  The tall straight stems still stood tall, but their branches and needles were gone, and their trunks were bleached white wood streaked with charred black strips of bark.

The effect of the burned trunks was a little eerie, but once again, tall purple wildflowers and a thin layer of delicate new greenery seemed to give a message of hope. 

In addition to the smaller details, all the open areas gave us breathtaking views of the enormous and magnificent mountains opposite.  Our progress was slow as we stopped to admire and photograph them.

As we approached the turnoff for the Buller Mountain Day Use Area we found ourselves descending again, and eventually came to a wooden footbridge over a beautiful, clear, fast-flowing mountain stream.

We were taking a break by its mossy banks, eating a granola bar and seriously assessing the possibility of wild camping somewhere in the vicinity when three hikers came down from the trail above and stopped to chat.  They ended up asking a lot of questions about our hike, and wished us well before heading off.

Although we thoroughly enjoyed our hike today, the constant ups and downs of the rugged trail were taking their toll on our legs. Although it was still relatively early, we decided to walk down into the Buller Mountain Day Use Area, make something to eat for dinner, and see if there might be some way to camp there.

We descended for about 600 m to the highway, and crossed over the wide gravel road.  As we made our way down the paved road we passed a washroom at the trail head. Outside it was an interpretive sign explaining that the rest stop was named after Lieutenant-Colonel Herbert Cecil Buller, who commanded the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry Regiment.  He commanded the unit during the second battle of Ypres during WWI, and died in a later battle near Ypres in Belgium.

We followed the paved road down through a forested region to the day use area. We first passed a no camping sign, then turned a curve in the road and recognized a stand of bear proof food lockers.  Right beside it was a self-registration kiosk for a hiker/biker campground. We felt like we'd struck gold!
As we approached the camping spot we met one of two long-distance cyclists who had also just discovered the camping area.  They had ridden their bikes up from the Mexico-US border and were planning to finish in Banff, just one day away for them.

We asked about the trail ahead, and they said they had done a combination of trail riding and following the road.  Apparently the trail through Peter Lougheed Provincial Park was very busy with day hikers and cyclists, making progress over the undulating terrain with heavily loaded bikes frustrating.  Equally the High Rockies Trail is often avoided by thru cyclists on the Continental Divide Trail from Mexico northward given its tough terrain which is hard to navigate with a loaded bike.  However, the road was wash boarded and extremely dusty.  We could see this from the layer of grey covering their clothes and hair which they said turned to thick sludge when they tried to wash it off.  Only later did we learn from another cyclist that the Smith Dorian Rd was surfaced with gravel from cement plant at Exshaw, and the fine dust it creates doesn't  wash off of cars easily either.

The campsites were perfectly flat crushed stone dust pads tucked into little pockets of dense confers.  They were cozy and offered complete privacy.  A few steps away was a beautiful pond with a picnic table that offering gorgeous views of Buller and Tower mountains opposite.  Really, what more could any hiker ask for?

When we went to fill our bucket from the pond to hand wash our clothes we discovered large semi-clear gelatinous green blobs floating in the reeds at the shore like jelly fish.  I later used iNaturalist to determine that they were Ophrydium versatile, a single-celled organism that is neither plant, nor animal, nor fungus.

At the time I had no idea what they were, but the idea of drinking the water they were floating seemed kind of sketchy   The water looked kind of stagnant as well, so I decided to backtrack a few kilometres up the trail to the clear mountain stream for drinking water while Sean did the laundry and hung it up in the scorching hot afternoon sunshine.

When I returned we made dinner and ate it while sitting on the picnic bench and enjoying the view.  Four Common Goldeneyes were floating out in the still waters, which were reflecting the greens and golds of the evening.  A band of mischievous Canada Jays hovered around our table, hoping for scraps, and a Merlin dove for dragonflies about the reeds surrounding the forested pond.

As the sun set it turned the mountains red.  We watched as the shadow elongated and grew, creeping up the mountainside.  For one brief moment the forest at the foot of the mountain was set ablaze, and a few moments later a half moon appeared above the mountains.  As the temperatures dropped and darkness fell it almost felt like a shame to crawl into the tent and leave the beauty outside, but the day's exertions had taken their toll. It was a perfect ending to a wonderful day in the High Rockies Trail.

 

See you on the trail!

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