Ice-Out on Lake Windermere

Only a thin layer of ice remains on the south end of Lake Windermere. Looking close you can see the ice breaking up. The ice is about midway in the lakes 12 mile length.

Incredibly mild weather for December. +6°c, rain and a stiff south wind. The ice on about half of Lake Windermere has gone out. In the sixty, some odd, years I have been observing the lake I cannot remember it doing so in December.

The ice was late forming this winter with only a thin skim by the end of November. I am usually skating on the lake by the end of November. This year I went for a swim instead.

Standing at the north end of the Lake near dark. The ice in the foreground has been blown to the shore.

In the early 2000’s, when I was with the newspaper, I can remember writing an editorial mid December to be careful on the lake ice as it could be unsafe. It had been mild that year. The point of the article was to warn tourists and second home owners to be mindful as they may have been used to driving on it in December. The way it looks this year the tourists and vacation home owners could be putting their jet boats back in for the Christmas holidays.

The lake in winter has always been a special place for me. Skating, skiing, driving and fishing. There is nothing like being out there in the cold and quiet. Whenever I have had to endure pain I’ve always thought of the lake and the silent white surroundings while standing in the middle to get me through. It is what I imagine heaven to look like. It truly is a remarkable place.

We are expecting more warm weather. If so I can only guess the rest of the ice will break up and flow down the Columbia.

If my old friend Ray was still alive, he passed a few years ago at 103, I’d ask him if he’d ever seen this before. I would bet he would say no and be equally surprised. As I’m sure my Dad would have been. Christ, I’m an old-timer now and I’ve never seen Lake Windermere open in December.

Late November

A little colder as of late, but overall, a mild month. The lake is still open and it doesn’t look like I am going to get my usual skate in before the end of November.

The ground hasn’t been frozen until last week. The garlic has had a couple extra weeks to establish. I don’t know if that is good or bad. We shall see.

Up behind the mountain today. Only a couple of inches of snow, none in the valley bottom. I cut a few cedar boughs along the creek for Christmas decorations. Lisa makes wonderful wreaths.

***

A week ago I saw three very large Bighorn rams in Radium. A few days later I went back looking for them. I found two, the third, the biggest was nowhere to be found. While I took a few photos a young woman stopped to look as well. She said it was reported the largest one was hit on the highway.

Full curl. Those horns have seen some action.

Incredible considering there are fences, speed signs and even an animal overpass. The woman was from the United States and said she couldn’t believe how fast everyone drives around here. She was referring to the highway through the Kootenay National Park. I told her those are people from Alberta in a hurry to get out here and have fun. I told her Albertans are Canada’s Texans. She laughed and seemed to understand immediately.

Now, before anybody gives me shit for that comment, I realize we have our own share of yahoos in British Columbia. I could well imagine residents of small towns three hours from Vancouver probably hate being taken over by people trying to escape the city.

Regardless of jest, considering all of the precautions in place and provincial money spent, it’s a shame to see Bighorns being killed on the roads.

***

Saw a large heard of elk on the side of Swansea. The bulls kept hidden.

Kale still putting out in late November. No wonder Kaleman is so tough.

Back Country

Breaking through the trees for the first sight of the lake.

It was good to leave the valley where everyone is trying to separate tourists from their money. It is a scourge, troubling watching the lake and town gasp at it descends into overconsumption.

We were off into the mountains to a place my father and I hiked until his legs ached. I didn’t then but I appreciate it now. He let me go following the dry creek runoff all leading up.

Dave and I hadn’t hiked together for awhile. My fault as work has consumed me the past two years.

Once we turned towards the Palliser, the people were gone. The trail head was deserted. I slipped off a boulder at the creek crossing and had one wet foot that lasted the hike. Certainly not as sure footed as I once was.

The old skid trail was overgrown. We both carried bear spray. We remarked at the amount of bear sign. Dad used to attach bells to me a long time ago. I also carried granddads 30 30 rifle so often dad said I had one arm longer than the other.

The trail gained elevation through the alders and skunk cabbage. It has been wet and Dave stopped to take pictures of various plants and mushrooms. The spruce had new dark blue pitch covered cones at their tops. The nuthatches and grosbeaks will be plentiful come November.

A Rocky Mountain peak rising above the trail.

Strata once layered horizontally, under a sea of prehistoric shell fish, is pushed vertical in the highest spots. Millions of years work which we can’t fathom, thinking a lifetime is a long time. That these mountains don’t consider us is peaceful. We are of little significance in the hands of time. Even our damage will one day be undone the same as the trail we followed was grown over and hard to follow.

Mountain asters blooming and abundant along the trail and slides.

Once off the rise we stopped for a bite. I scoped the old trail across the slides north for grizzlies and moose. The trail we were on was much better than the one my father and I followed.

The remaining trail was flat with only a few deadfalls across the trail. The lake was right where we left it. It still takes my breath away as we clamoured out of the spruce and soft footing onto its rocky shore.

The slides on all sides of the lake were overgrown. On rounding a corner a large brown hump appeared. I started reaching for the bear spray and realized it was a cow moose. A moose can be as dangerous if it decides to charge. Since we had no where to go we took a few pictures before it turned our way and trotted not fifteen feet from us into a small pond leading to the lake. A fine encounter.

Tadpoles swimming in the shallow pools.

We found a flat rock to have another bite and look around. I took some directions measuring where the stars would align during the night at this time of year. Dave pointed out thousands of tadpoles swimming the shallows. Fish jumped in the middle and around the shores. I had caught some big fish here long ago. I found the old camping spot completely grown over.

Dave picks his way over the trail roughed up with bear sign.

After lunch we picked up the trail and headed above the lake to get a good look at the emerald water. We stopped as long as we could before we turned to follow the trail back as we were due back at the bottom three valleys over.

When ever I leave this place, even when I was a boy, I always wondered when or if I would ever see it again. To be here on this tiny sliver of time sharing the earth with these large spruce, rocks, flowing water and animals is a gift.

Sometimes you get lucky.

Slip Slide & Away

The Milky Way above the Fairmont Range. The Dark Horse Nebula can be seen to the right of the central bulge of the Milky Way.

Willow and I were up early. The moon was due to go down at about 4:30am. Our goal was to catch a bit of the Milky Way before the coming sun started to wash it.

We were off for the end of the lake. The pick-up slid in the mud. It has been clear and warm during the day, but chilly at night. We broke through the ice skimmed over the mud holes, churning this way and that trying to stay out of the ruts.

Just about at our parking spot, damn near level with the lake, I underestimated a strip of mud, letting the truck slide deeper and we were stuck.

There was no going forward or back. We were already in four wheel drive. I shifted the beast into 4 low and it still wouldn’t budge.

I got out and surveyed the situation. It is usually a foot and a half step to the ground out of the truck. This morning the step was just about level with the mud. We were stuck. It was dark. There was only one thing to do. Go looking for the Milky Way.

Willow looked at me sideways as if to say, this is where we are going to park?

We walked up the hills overlooking the lake. Willow stayed close with the coyotes yipping.

The moon was down in the west. The Milky Way stretched east to south. Antares, the heart of Scorpius was well up above the horizon. The Prancing Horse whinnied as if chuckling at our predicament.

We walked to the waters edge. The geese were at it, establishing territory, gearing up for flight. Once it started to get light we headed back to the truck.

I laid some broken branches in a corduroy fashion, shovelled mud and water and did some rocking, lots of rocking. Finally, like a stubborn tooth, the muck let loose and the ship sailed onto solid ground.

The only way out was forward, so I had to turn around and go back through the cranky puddle. Fortunately, I had realized the err of my ways and picked a more favourable route without incident.

Once home it was like Lisa knew I had got stuck. It could have been we were later than usual or the mud soaked up to my knees. She reminded me I wasn’t thirty anymore. I assured her we weren’t stuck, just parked for a while.

Interesting morning.

March 31

Dad and I used to go up Shuswap Creek. The road was always bad. Perfect for the old Scout. The road followed a narrow draw that rose quickly to the foot of Mt. Baldy. The creek was just off the side of the road, 10 or 20 meters below. As a youngster, it seemed like a special place to me. Perhaps so, because large Cedar trees grew beside the creek, these trees seemed rare and majestic to me. Or maybe it was the abundant rabbit and grizzly bear tracks Dad would point out along the way. I remember once, Dad and I were stuck up there while we coaxed life back into the Scout. At the time, it would have bothered me naught if we were ever to return.

By the time I was a teenager the lower bridges had washed out and slides devoured the road. To conquer Baldy meant a sturdy walk through the Cedars. I did it often. I considered planting tracks beside a Grizzly’s an honour.

When I was young I made plans for the city. I wasn’t sure if I would ever come back. It was the middle of winter. Before leaving, I grabbed my skiis, skins, tent, bag and pack. I was determined to have one more look. I skied as high as I could and pitched a saggy tent. The night was long, starry and beautiful at the foot of Baldy.

The next day on the way back out I took a nasty fall and was lucky not to tumble into the creek.

Many years later, long after I was back from the city, I went back to find a couple items I left behind up Shuswap Creek. One was a tent pole. It was easy to find. It was right where I left it. The other item was a knife that fell out of my pack when I took the tumble. It was harder to find. But there it was about ten meters below the spot.

On that trip back into the Shuswap, I noticed a large Cedar that seemed to be growing leaves. On closer inspection, I discovered, it was a dead Cedar and a Birch had grown up through the rotting center.

I went back and told Dad. He was beyond hiking at this time in his life. He wasn’t surprised I found the pole or the knife, but he was interested in the tree. Where exactly was it – before the second bridge?

Later, over crib or coffee, between laughs we would talk about that tree. How phenomenal it was to find.

The knife, the pole, leaving home, youth, old-age – all of it was left behind and unimportant. We talked about the trees, the Grizzly, the drumming chicken, slides and runoff.

All this time later – I miss those conversations.

Summer Hike

Payton, Kennedy, Mia, Jack, Josh and Nathan stopping at the first lake

In what has become a summer ritual a few of my young coworkers and I set off on a hike to see some rock, snow and blue water.

It was special to have Jack’s brother Josh, visiting from the UK, along for the walk.

The days have turned hot. We made an early start and missed most of the heat hiking up. The first lake was pristine surrounded by peaks spotted with snow and ice. Moraine swept from slides to shore. Twisted tamaracks shot skyward, some standing for centuries. A great honour to walk among them with these fine youngsters.

We set off for the scramble to the second lake. It was decided a short section be named Payton’s Pass for her ability to manage it despite her reluctance or otherwise good sense.

The meadow leading to the second lake with wild flowers and trickling stream with short cascading waterfalls was welcome walking the rest of the way.

We stopped for lunch. Everyone had a swim. I wanted to but the thought of the sharp rocks on my feet stopped me. I’m getting a little old and tender I guess.

We followed our route backwards, descended into the heat of the valley bottom. A very fine day.

Tamarack

A very fine view after a few hours hike.

It was nice to get out with Jack and Dave for a day hike to see the tamaracks turning colour.

Willow getting in the picture. She looks like a stump, while a stump, that looks like a dog, barks at her presence.

We even had a few snowflakes fall upon us. Even though the sun stayed hidden the colours still popped.

Tamarack or Larch, as they are often called, are deciduous conifers. They have bright green needles in spring that turn golden in autumn. The time they are brightest does not last long before the needles fall. To an untrained eye they don’t look very much different than fir, pine and spruce, but differ, among other characteristics, by shedding their needles.

It is always a treat to hike among these majestic beauties at this time of year.

Quick Break

Jack, Kennedy (back), Payton (front), Isobel and Emmett.

A week or so ago we planned a hike. Many of the youngsters at work get Wednesday off. They are hard workers and their days off are valuable.

We departed at 8am and made it to the trail head by 9:30. On the trip was Jack, Payton, Kennedy, Isobel and Emmett. Emmett missed out on the last hike and it was good to have him along.

Along also was Dave and his son Jake.

Dave is a great guide pointing out plants, animals and geological formations. He can also talk while climbing, while I gasp for breath. Very handy while hiking with people more than half your age.

We walked the trail through low cloud, studying flora and fauna, paying attention to the mushrooms that had popped up through the forest floor. A bonus from the recent rain.

Once on top we headed for the small lake and basin beyond.

Everyone enjoyed looking for fossils, exploring the rock banks, slides and large boulders.

Isobel holds fossils trapped in the shale while getting acquainted with a local resident.

On the way back. We dashed to the summit overlooking the two valleys. It was smoke and dark clouds to the east and spots of sunshine to the west.

Food was the main topic on the trail back to the truck. What they liked and ‘have you ever had?’ I just tried to keep my footing while my stomach started growling.

Kennedy who never met a rock wall she didn’t want to climb.

A lot of smiles, throughout the day, knowing the next time we saw each other it was going to be about work.

Mountains have a way to bring people together.

Very fine walk.

Morning Walk

A very nice walk this morning with Kelsie, Cooper and Scarlett. Lisa and I are lucky to have them along. Willow and Lola ran through the creek and fetched rocks and sticks. Lisa and Scarlett brought back pussy willows.

Scarlett decides to cross the creek on her bum. A good choice when unsure.

ridge walking instead of train spotting

Had the privilege to go hiking with Ashley from Manitoba and Kevin and Ashley from Scotland. They let me take them into the backcountry for a hike. Hiking is just about done for the season with snow coming on, but it’s the only day we could all get off from the resort.

It was -14°c in the shade when we started out. Kevin and Ashley from Scotland said that is a cold day back home. Ashley from Manitoba, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eye.

We had about a foot of snow to start that stuck festively to the boughs of the trees. We climbed quickly on a broken trail, catching a glimpse of a moose where the path opened into a meadow. Unlucky for us it didn’t stick around.

The rise kept us warm. We marvelled at the rock cliffs catching the sun and cheered each other on to reach the warmth. Finally after a bit of a slog we reached the edge of the timber. The sun didn’t disappoint.

We stopped for a few pictures and admired the view and discussed our plans to go to a small lake in a basin to the west, or head up higher. The lake seemed out of the question. Breaking trail in the snow while losing elevation seemed counterintuitive. On the other hand, the ridge, with the wind hardening or blowing the snow off the rocks, seemed not so bad, although steep.

We slogged for awhile in the deep snow until we were finally out of the trees and walking became much easier. I encouraged my young companions to lead the way as I knew I was holding them up.

We rustled a flock of Snow Buntings, not yet entirely white. They flew overhead giving us a thrill with their small chirps. Ashley said, she thought at first they were falling leaves but realized there was no trees.

A quick snack and some photos up top and we were on our way back down. If it were me alone I would have backtracked on the same way we came. But they are young, and apt to take the road less travelled, so why go back over familiar territory.

Instead we dropped off the ridge into a steep draw directly above where we parked the truck. It was knee deep snow on the shady side that would have been better tackled with skis. We hopped, skipped, slid and waded our way back to the truck, boots full of snow, happy for the sunny day.

Very fine day.

Palliser Pass

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