30th September 2016

It was a restful night’s sleep for both of us, and we woke to a beautiful morning. After breakfast and a shower, we set off for Bow Lake to attempt the glacier.

We paused once en route to capture a photo of a valley and lake nestled below the highway, shrouded in a cauldron of clouds. A few other travellers had stopped with the same idea in mind. Our destination was only about 35 km away, so before long, we were pulling into the public car park by the Num-Ti-Jah Lodge. This picturesque wooden hotel sits on the banks of the lake and seems to be a popular stop for tour buses, allowing passengers to spend 20 minutes photographing the lake and mountains.

Kitted up, we set off along the trail leading towards the glacier. The lake’s waters were as still as glass, begging to be captured by the camera, but I resisted; I had taken enough photos the day before. The trail followed the shoreline, occasionally weaving into the tree line to skirt marshy areas. It was a gloriously hot day, and before long, my fleece had found its way into my backpack.

A rather fit Canadian woman overtook us, and in turn, we passed an elderly Asian couple along the lakeside section of the trail.

We reached the end of the lake by crossing a moraine field, where a small river twisted and turned through its rocky bed. Here began the upward climb, through trees and over large boulders. It was strenuous going, but thankfully, much of it was shaded by the towering mountain to our left.

We pressed on, sometimes gripping roots to steady ourselves, until at last we rejoined the river at the top of a narrow, yet incredibly deep gorge. Below us, fast, thundering water surged through its depths. It was a relief to step back into the sunshine, though a short climb still lay ahead. As the terrain began to level out, we emerged from the tree line above a vast corrie (I’ve no idea what the Canadians call this feature).

Across the other side, we spotted a waterfall tumbling over a towering cliff, feeding a river that wound its way down into the bowl. As it flowed, the river split into several small streams, weaving and meandering before merging once more at the mouth of the chasm where we stood.

We followed the trail to the base of the waterfall, crossing paths with the Canadian woman and a young Asian couple on their way back. We exchanged pleasantries as we passed.

Upon reaching the waterfall, we were disappointed to find no route leading from the corrie up to the glacier, now hidden from view above the cliff. Undeterred, we climbed partway up the waterfall for a better view and to take photos. Jamie managed to reach the first cascade, where he built his own small cairn, a little pile of stones. I doubt many will venture that far.

When we regrouped at the base of the falls, we decided to traverse the scree slope to our left, hoping to find a route that would lead us over the cliff and onto the glacier. Scree climbing is notoriously difficult and dangerous, and this was no exception. The initial, gently sloping section was manageable, but as the incline steepened and the rocks grew smaller, maintaining grip became increasingly challenging. A slip here could easily lead to an uncontrolled tumble, and at this height (3,000m), it would be a long way down.

Jamie managed to reach the low crest of the slope, pressing against a buttress that, from below, appeared as though it might offer a path to the ice. I fell short of the crest, losing grip several times and experiencing a few small slips. Realising it was too risky to continue, I carefully picked my way back down the slope. Jamie followed a few minutes later.

During the descent, Jamie slipped, and his knee buckled beneath him. In pain, he slid the rest of the way down on his bottom. Miraculously, as the ground began to level out, he managed to stand, and with an audible click, his knee popped back into place.

We made our way across the corrie to the chasm, where the water plunged into the air for a second time. Looking up, we realised our scree climbing had been futile; the scree ended abruptly at another cliff, with no possible route beyond it.

As we descended alongside the ravine, Jamie’s knee gave out once more, slowing our progress considerably. Step by step, we eventually made it back to the lakeside, where, once again, his knee clicked back into place.

However, partway around the lake, as we crossed a stretch of pebbles, Jamie’s knee failed again, this time refusing to right itself.

Eventually, we made it back to the RV. After some drinks, I accompanied my hobbling son to the lodge restaurant, where we had soup and cornbread. With further hiking no longer an option, we decided to head back to Banff.

Upon returning to Banff, we parked the RV, legally this time, and did a bit of shopping for that night’s meal before checking the cinema listings. We camped once again at Tunnel Mountain, had showers, and listened to the radio. While I wrote this blog, Jamie’s knee must have been feeling better, as he decided to go for a walk around the site.

Later in the evening, we headed into town to watch the Ice Hockey World Cup final in a bar. Canada was playing Europe in the best-of-three series. We’d caught part of the first game in a bar at Lake Louise the night before; Canada had won. Tonight’s game saw Europe leading 1-0 until the final five minutes when Canada equalised. During a European power play, the Canadians broke away and scored the winner. The bar erupted, and I imagine the celebrations would carry on well into the night. I wonder how many people back in the UK even knew this World Cup was happening?

Leaving the Canadians to their celebrations, we strolled to the cinema and watched ‘Sully’, the film about the American Airlines crash into the Hudson River. Well worth watching.

We arrived back at the campsite just before midnight.