interesting one, and worth taking in as leisurely a manner as
possible, on an easy-going pony, or better still on foot. Leaving
Hector, the road skirts the shores of Wapta Lake, whose waters are of
the deepest blue; Cataract Creek trail here leads off to the south, to
Lake O'Hara about eight miles distant beyond the great white peak of
Mount Victoria; the Cathedral Crags lie directly ahead to the west,
and beneath winds the wildly impressive Canyon of the Kicking Horse.
As the road drops rapidly down the valley, one is lost in amazement
at the temerity of the engineers who dared to carry a railway through
this seemingly impossible gorge, with its gradient of nearly 200 feet
in the mile. As we leave the Canyon behind, Mount Stephen fills the
view ahead, with Field and Wapta to the right, and the beautiful Yoho
Valley opening up to the north, where the Wapta icefield and Mount
Habel are visible in the distance.
One of the most delightful expeditions in Yoho Park is that to Lake
O'Hara and Lake McArthur. These may be reached either from Laggan in
Rocky Mountains Park, or from Field in the Yoho. Outram recommends
that if at all possible the approach should be made from Laggan and
Lake Louise, by way of Abbot Pass, using the easier but less
picturesque Cataract trail for the return journey. This makes a
somewhat strenuous trip for those who may not be accustomed to
climbing, but otherwise is thoroughly worth the extra effort. The way
leads around Lake Louise, and over the Victoria Glacier to Abbot Pass,
with the tremendous precipices of Lefroy and Victoria frowning down on
either side. From the glacier the way to the pass is up a steep,
narrow gorge known as the Death Trap on account of the numerous
avalanches that hurtle down from the mountain tops. The danger,
however, is more apparent than real, and nothing has ever happened to
justify the sinister name.
From the summit of the pass the view is one of indescribable grandeur,
a wilderness of gigantic cliffs far and near, stretching up and up to
glittering summits. Scrambling down the steep descent, Lake Oesa comes
into view far below, at the foot of Mount Yukness. Oesa is an Indian
word meaning Ice, and the lake has been appropriately named as, on
account of its elevation, it is frozen over throughout the greater
part of the year and never quite free from ice. A climb down ledges
and talus slopes brings one to the little lake, and from here the
first glimpse is caught of the exquisitely beautiful Lake O'Hara in
the valley far below. As one gets nearer, the loveliness of this
secluded lake grows, and is all the more compelling because of the
absolute stillness, no chalet or carriages or boats or human
interlopers other than ourselves. The colouring is as perfect, as
varied and as utterly beyond description as that of Lake Louise. The
lake is an Alpine gem, in whose bright surface are reflected the green
of the forest that surrounds its shores, and the mountains that
enclose it on either side, the huge bulk of Mount Schaffer and the
curious pinnacles of the Wiwaxy Peaks. A couple of miles to the
southwest, and reached by a good trail, is Lake McArthur, another
mountain tarn only a little less charming than Lake O'Hara.
If one has only a limited time to spend in the Park, however,
unquestionably it should be devoted to the Yoho Valley, on the north
side of the railway. Several good roads and trails now lead to the
valley from Field, by way of Emerald Lake, Burgess Pass and the Yoho
River, so that the visitor has a choice of routes, and is assured of
many enchanting views both going and coming.
The valley was explored as long ago as 1897 by Jean Habel, a famous
German mountaineer, who spent seventeen days there and returned with
such enthusiastic accounts of mountains, lakes and wonderful
waterfalls that it was determined to make the valley accessible to
tourists. A trail was commenced by the Canadian Pacific Railway in
1900, and since the organisation of the district into a national park
this first attempt has been extended into a system of roads and trails
giving access to every part of the valley. A delightful drive through
"aisles of stately firs," and over a good wagon road, brings one to
Emerald Lake, where the Railway Company, with its customary
thoughtfulness, has provided a comfortable and picturesque chalet,
situated on a wooded promontory. The lake, says Outram, is a "gem of
perfect beauty, its colouring marvellously rich and vivid, and
constantly changing under the shifting lights and shades." In its
surface are mirrored the ramparts and precipices of Mount Wapta and
Mount Burgess and the snowy glaciers of President Mountain.
From Emerald Lake, the road winds up the valley, with ever changing
views of the mighty peaks on either side. We are waiting, however, for
our first glimpse of the glory of the valley, Takakkaw Falls,
remembering the meaning of the Indian name, "It is wonderful!"
Presently we come out of the forest, the falls are before us across
the valley, and we can do nothing but echo the exclamation of the
Indians. To borrow again from Sir James Outram, "the torrent issuing
from an icy cavern rushes tempestuously down a deep, winding chasm
till it gains the verge of the unbroken cliff, leaps forth in sudden
wildness for a hundred and fifty feet, and then in a stupendous column
of pure white sparkling water, broken by giant jets descending
rocket-like and wreathed in volumed spray, dashes upon the rocks
almost a thousand feet below, and breaking into a milky series of
cascading rushes for five hundred feet more, swirls into the swift
current of the Yoho River."
Farther up the valley we come to the less imposing but even more
picturesque Twin Falls, and the appropriately named Laughing Fall,
where the Upper Yoho leaps down the mountain side. It is impossible to
give more than a mere impression of the charms of this delightful
valley. It would indeed be difficult to find anywhere else a more
perfect grouping of the elements of Rocky Mountain scenery, great
peaks and glaciers, stately forests and meadows carpeted with
wildflowers, rushing streams, lakes of the most exquisite colouring,
and a group of waterfalls as varied in character as they are all
strikingly beautiful.
[Illustration: TAKAKKAW FALLS. (_Yoho Valley_) _Mary M. Vaux, W. S.
Vaux, and G. Vaux, Jr._]
[Illustration: LAKE O'HARA. (_Yoho Park_)_Mary M. Vaux, W. S. Vaux,
and G. Vaux, Jr._]
[Illustration: TWIN FALLS. (_Yoho Valley_) _Mary M. Vaux, W. S. Vaux,
and G. Vaux, Jr._]
VII
AROUND THE ILLECILLEWAET
As we leave Field behind, and slide rapidly down the western slope of
the Rockies to the Columbia valley, revelling in the ever-changing
panorama of stately peaks, and enjoying it all from a comfortable
arm-chair in the observation car, it is interesting to recall the very
different journey of Sir Sandford Fleming in 1883. He had been the
chief engineer of the Canadian Pacific Railway surveys from 1871 to
1880, and had strongly advocated the Yellowhead Pass route through the
mountains in preference to the Kicking Horse Pass. His judgment has
since been vindicated by the selection of the former route by both the
new Canadian transcontinental roads, the Grand Trunk Pacific and the
Canadian Northern.
When the Canadian Pacific Railway was taken over from the Dominion
Government by a syndicate, it was decided to build through the Kicking
Horse. In 1883 the rails had been laid as far as Calgary, at the
eastern entrance to the mountains, actually before there was any
certainty that it would be possible to get through by the southern
route. The Kicking Horse Pass was believed to be feasible though
presenting many serious engineering difficulties, but that only took
them through the main range. There were still the Selkirks and the
Gold Range to cross, before they could reach Kamloops on the North
Thompson River, beyond which the route had been selected and the rails
partly laid; but all the information the Company then had was a vague
report that a route might be found over the former by Rogers Pass and
over the latter by Eagle Pass. Very little was known of either.
The directors of the Company were between the horns of a dilemma. If
they went ahead, they might find themselves stranded on the east side
of the Selkirks. On the other hand, to abandon the route would mean
the loss of millions of dollars already expended in bringing the rails
to Calgary. In their difficulty they sent for Fleming, and asked him
to go over the ground between Calgary and Kamloops and let them know
if the railway could be taken through the three ranges, the Rockies,
Selkirks and Gold Range. One can imagine the famous engineer
chuckling over the situation. He had recommended the Yellowhead route;
his advice had been rejected; and now the advocates of the rival
Kicking Horse route were compelled to fall back upon him, to beg him
of all men to demonstrate the practicability of the southern route. He
accepted the commission, went over the route thoroughly, and was able
to report that the railway could be taken through from Calgary to
Kamloops. What he saw, however, was very far from shaking his former
opinion that the Yellowhead Pass route was preferable in every way to
that by the Kicking Horse.
This is merely introductory to a paragraph or two from Sir Sandford
Fleming's account of his journey through the mountains in
1883--something to ponder over as we rush down the same wild valley in
our luxurious observation car.
Fleming had left the railway at Calgary, and with ponies and
pack-horses had slowly forced his way to the summit of the main range,
and was now climbing down the valley of the Kicking Horse to the
Columbia. We pick him up one morning, somewhere about the western
boundary of what is now Yoho Park.
"The mist hangs like a thick curtain, concealing everything not
directly near the camp-fire. But we start; the six pack-horses in front
with their loads standing out from their backs, giving the creatures
the appearance of so many dromedaries. Dave rides ahead with the
bell-horse, then the pack-horses follow, and the horsemen bring up the
rear to see that none stray behind. Our journey this day is over
exceedingly rough ground. We have to cross gorges so narrow that a
biscuit might be thrown from the last horse descending to the
bell-horse six hundred feet ahead, ascending the opposite side.
"The fires have been running through the wood and are still burning;
many of the half-burnt trees have been blown down by last night's
gale, obstructing the trail and making advance extremely difficult....
Fortunately there is no wind. The air is still and quiet, otherwise we
would run the risk of blackened trunks falling around us, possibly
upon the animals or ourselves, even at the best seriously to have
impeded our progress, if such a mischance did not make an advance
impossible until the wind should moderate.
"We move forward down and up gorges hundreds of feet deep, amongst
rocky masses where the poor horses have to clamber as best they can
amid sharp points and deep crevices, running the constant risk of a
broken leg. The trail now takes another character. A series of
precipices run sheer up from the boiling current to form a contracted
canyon. A path has therefore been traced along the hill side,
ascending to the elevation of some seven or eight hundred feet. For a
long distance not a vestige of vegetation is to be seen. On the steep
acclivity our line of advance is narrow, so narrow that there is
scarcely a foothold; nevertheless we have to follow for some six miles
this thread of trail, which seemed to us by no means in excess of the
requirements of the chamois and the mountain goat.
"We cross clay, rock and gravel slides at a giddy height. To look down
gives one an uncontrollable dizziness, to make the head swim and the
view unsteady, even with men of tried nerves. I do not think that I
can ever forget that terrible walk. We are from five to eight hundred
feet high on a path of from ten to fifteen inches wide and at some
points almost obliterated, with slopes above and below us so steep
that a stone would roll into the torrent in the abyss below."
A few miles more, and Fleming emerged from the valley of the Kicking
Horse and stood on the banks of the Columbia, with the mighty walls
of the Rockies and Selkirks towering above him to the east and to the
west. His way through the Selkirks was by the same route that we now
follow on the railway, and it brought him in time to the summit of
Rogers Pass, and the first sight of the since famous Illecillewaet
Glacier. As we follow in his footsteps, we find ourselves entering the
third great National Park of Canada--appropriately named Glacier Park,
for from any one of its great peaks one may count a score of these
wonderful ice rivers.
The Selkirk Range strikes even the unobservant traveller as markedly
different from the main range of the Rockies. The colouring of the
rocks is more varied and less sombre; the valleys are deeper and
clothed with dense forests of gigantic evergreens, cedar, spruce,
hemlock, Douglas fir, and up near the extreme limit of vegetation the
beautiful Lyall's larch; and the snowfall is very much heavier than in
the more easterly range. From its geographical position the Selkirk
Range intercepts a large percentage of the moisture borne inland from
the Pacific, which would otherwise reach the Rockies, and this with
the deep valleys has resulted in a vegetation that is almost tropical
in its luxuriance, and infinite in its variety, something over five
hundred different flowers alone having been discovered in Glacier
Park.
Geologists tell us that the Selkirks are very much older than the main
range, that in fact they were hoary with antiquity when as the result
of some vast convulsion of nature the Rockies were born. The
brilliantly coloured quartzites of the Selkirks belong to an age so
remote that the mere thought of it is enough to make one's head reel.
In their day they looked out to the eastward upon a great sea,
covering what are to-day vast fertile plains, and the sea washed over
the place where the giants of the Rockies now lift their snowy heads
proudly into the heavens.
Compared with Rocky Mountain Park, Glacier Park is a comparatively
small reservation, covering an area of 468 square miles, but any one
capable of appreciating the glories of mountain scenery, the great
valleys with their picturesque torrents and waterfalls and riotous
vegetation; the upper slopes with their bewildering array of alpine
flowers, dryas, anemones and mountain lilies, red and white heather,
glowing masses of painter's-brush, yellow and purple asters, blue
gentians and yellow columbines, delicate moss campion and the dear
little forget-me-not; the dizzy precipices and dazzling glaciers; and
the conquered summits with their glorious outlook over a world of
indescribable wildness and grandeur,--will find here a region of
perpetual delight, where he may roam afield for weeks each day on an
entirely new trail.
Although the park as a park did not exist until long after his visit,
and good roads and trails now take the place of the rough paths he had
to follow, William Spotswood Green's _Among the Selkirk Glaciers_, is
still the most satisfactory and entertaining introduction that one can
find, or wish for, to this mountain playground. Green came to the
Selkirks in 1888, after years of delightful experience in the Alps and
the great mountains of New Zealand. He left with the conviction that
he had seen nothing elsewhere more impressive or more fascinating than
these mountains of British Columbia. "Dark green forest, rushing
streams, purple peaks, silvery ice, a cloudless sky, and a most
transparent atmosphere," he says, "all combine to form a perfect
Alpine paradise."
One of his first visits was to the Illecillewaet Glacier, which then
entailed a slow and more or less painful scramble through a wilderness
of fallen timber, tangled thickets of alder scrub, and the
appropriately named devil's club. To-day one reaches the foot of the
glacier by way of a delightful and well-kept trail through the forest,
the trail starting from the doors of Glacier House, the large and
comfortable hotel maintained by the Canadian Pacific Railway at the
headquarters of the park.
On the way he had an opportunity of observing the tremendous
destructive power of avalanches. "The hemlock, balsam, and Douglas
firs, though as stout as ships' masts, had been snapped off close to
their roots; some were torn up and driven long distances from where
they grew, and lay in heaps, but the general position of the trunks
pointed distinctly to the direction from which the destroying
avalanche had come. Even the boulders of the moraine showed signs of
having been shifted, some of them huge blocks of quartzite, one I
measured 50 X 33 X 24 feet. No better illustration could be presented
of the overwhelming power of an avalanche, though composed of nothing
else than the accumulation of a winter's snow."
On this or another expedition, Green was introduced to the
idiosyncrasies of the Indian pony or cayuse. One had been taken as a
pack horse, and picked his way demurely along the trail for some time,
with that air of meek innocence which always imposes upon the
tenderfoot. Suddenly, without a moment's warning, and for no apparent
reason, he was "seized with a paroxysm of buck-jumping; the packs flew
off, he rolled down through the ferns and rocks, and then, perfectly
satisfied with his performance, stood patiently while we restored our
goods on his back." The incident will bring back many similar
experiences to those who have camped in the Rocky Mountains. One is
almost tempted to chuckle over Green's bewilderment. It is generally
found that there is reason in the pony's madness. When he runs
unexpectedly into a hornet's nest, the most natural thing in the world
is to get away from it as quickly as possible, and as a rule the
quickest way is to roll down hill.
Exasperating as the cayuse can be on many occasions, no one who has
any sense of humour or any appreciation of animal intelligence can
fail in time to grow very fond of a horse that has been his companion
on many wild mountain trails, that has carried him safely through
raging torrents, and sometimes shared his meal beside the camp fire. A
good pony will follow unerringly a trail that is indistinguishable to
even an experienced guide; he will carry an able-bodied man, or a much
heavier pack, all day over a trail that would kill an eastern horse;
he will pick his way through a tangle of fallen timber with an
instinct that is almost uncanny; and he will do all this on the
uncertain feed of mountain camps. He is a true philosopher, a creature
of shrewd common sense, pluck, endurance, and rare humour, a good
fellow, and a rare friend.
Green made the first attempt to scale Mount Sir Donald, the splendid
peak that almost overshadows Glacier House. He selected what proved to
be an impracticable route, and was forced to return without reaching
the summit. The mountain has since been repeatedly climbed, and is now
with Mount Stephen in the Rockies the most popular peak for
mountain-climbers in the Canadian parks. Thanks to the Swiss guides
who are stationed here throughout the season, any one of reasonable
endurance and with a head for dizzy heights or depths, can now make
his way to the summit of Sir Donald, 10,808 feet above the sea, and be
rewarded with a view that will more than compensate him for the
fatigue.
Although mountain-climbing in the Canadian Rockies has been singularly
free from accidents, there have of course occasionally been narrow
escapes, and one of these is graphically described in _Among the
Selkirk Glaciers_. Green and a companion had climbed to the summit of
Mount Bonney, a great peak some miles west of Sir Donald, and were
returning, when they made the usual mistake of trying a short cut to
avoid a tedious piece of climbing. There seemed to be a way down a
very steep snow slope, and Green went ahead on the rope to test it,
while his companion anchored himself as firmly as possible in the snow
above. They were of course "roped" in the usual mountaineering
fashion.
"I turned my face to the slope," says Green, "and holding on to the
rope kicked my toes in and went over the brink. I took the precaution,
too, of burying my axe up to its head at every step. Just below the
brink there was a projecting crag. This I thought would give a firm
footing before testing the snow slope. I got one foot on to it and was
taking it as gently as possible when the rock gave way, a large piece
of snow went with it and fell on the slope twenty feet below.
"I stuck my knees into the snow, but felt my whole weight was on the
rope. Then I heard a swishing noise in the air, and glancing downwards
saw that the whole snow slope had cracked across and was starting away
down towards the valley in one huge avalanche. H. hauled cautiously
but firmly on the rope, and getting what grip I could with toes, knees
and ice-axe I was quickly in a safe position, and the two of us
standing side by side watched the clouds of snow filling the abyss
below and the huge masses bounding outwards. We listened to the sullen
roar which gradually subsided and all again was quiet."
It was probably this same stout rope by which Green pulled himself
back to safety, of which he elsewhere gives the history, quite an
eventful one, though sadly ignoble in its latter days. "Its first good
work was to save the lives of some of our party in a bad slip, near
the summit of the Balmhorn on the Bernese Overland. It was next used
as the mizzen topping-lift of a fifteen-ton yawl. It was my tent-rope
in the New Zealand Alps. It was the bridle used on a deep-sea trawl
that went down to 1000 fathoms beneath the surface of the Atlantic. It
trained a colt. Now it was in our diamond hitch; and I regret to say
that its old age was disgraced by its being used for cording one of my
boxes on the voyage home."
Compared with Rocky Mountains Park and Yoho Park, Glacier Park at
present is somewhat deficient in roads and trails, those that have
been opened all radiating from headquarters and extending not more
than six or eight miles in any direction. This, however, will be
remedied in a few years, the park being still very young, and in the
meantime it is not an unmixed evil to those who care to get off the
beaten track. Old Indian trails follow all the rivers and creeks
throughout the park, and though these will be more or less obliterated
and blocked with fallen timber, a competent guide can always be relied
upon to take you to any corner of the park, and when you have found a
good camping ground, with feed for the horses, a sparkling stream at
your feet, and a circle of noble peaks smiling down upon you, you
will, if you are the right sort, thank your stars that railways and
hotels and roads lie far away in another world beyond the mountains.
To really enjoy this sensation of out-of-the-worldness, however, you
must have brought with you a sufficient supply of worldly eatables.
Of the available trails, one leads up to Rogers Pass, at the summit of
the Selkirks, with Mount Macdonald on one side and Mount Tupper on the
other. These two great peaks were named after the famous Canadian
statesmen, Sir John Macdonald and Sir Charles Tupper. The latter,
after watching the growth of Canada from a group of weak and scattered
colonies to a strong and ambitious Dominion, is still alive in England
in his ninety-third year.
In the opposite direction, good trails lead to the Illecillewaet
Glacier, and to Asulkan Pass and the Asulkan Glacier, from which it is
possible to reach a group of magnificent peaks, Castor and Pollux, The
Dome, Clarke, Swanzy, and a little farther to the west Bonney and
Smart. On the opposite side lies the vast Illecillewaet snow-field.
From Glacier House, again, a good carriage road takes you west
parallel with the railway and the Illecillewaet River, towards Cougar
Mountain and Ross Peak. Eventually this will be extended to the Nakimu
Caves. At present a trail follows the same route to the Caves, and
around Mount Cheops to Rogers Pass, thus providing a round trip, from
Glacier House to the Caves, thence to Rogers Pass, and back to Glacier
House again.
The Nakimu Caves were discovered accidentally some nine years ago, and
are said to be well worth visiting. They are in charge of C. H.
Deutschmann, who discovered and explored them, and thanks to his
competent guidance and the facilities that have been provided it is
now possible for any one to visit and examine this curious freak of
nature. It will be more convenient to describe the Caves in another
chapter.