Banff, Canada:  walking on water

I’m back home now but still reminiscing about the trip to Banff.  It was comparatively mild compared to previous winters when we have been there, afternoon temperatures getting up to a toasty -50C though much colder overnight and most days afternoon temperatures between -150C and -200C.  Makes a mockery of ‘the beast from the east’ headlining in the UK with night time temperatures of -50C.

It snowed regularly, sometimes with falls of 15cms in a fairly short time.  It meant that this year I stuck to skiing midweek leaving the slopes to the hordes from Calgary rushing up at weekends to revel in the ‘pow-days’. On weekends I went trekking, sometimes on snowshoes, sometimes with ice cleats.  I rarely saw anyone else.

One snowshoe trek was upstream on the Bow River, frozen solid and snow covered.  It snowed much of the time I was out.  Apart from the pleasure of walking on snow in the snow in the vastness of the Canadian Rockies there were micro-moments when the small scale took centre stage.

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The ironic start  of the trek, the Canoe Club at the confluence of the Bow River and 40 Mile Creek.

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On the river, Bow River to the left, 40 Mile Creek to the right.

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The Creek is faster flowing at this point and so there are vestigial runs of  unfrozen water, thick ice above the water level and covered in snow.

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On 40 Mile Creek the edges of the ice collapse as the water level drops.  Tracks show it has been crossed but in my view best avoided.

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Walking the dog on the thicker ice of the Bow River.

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The thicker ice means that the river can be crossed at any point, here by a single set of prints

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….. but there are also well worn trails across, shortcuts from housing on the west bank to downtown on the east.

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Deep snow on the river ice makes the going hard work even in snowshoes, mine the only prints

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…. until I come across fresh prints crossing the river.  Obviously a big cat as evidenced by the lack of claw marks, running cat-fashion back paws-to front paws, and very fresh with no sign of the fine powdery snow blown by the wind into the depressions.

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Thankfully the size of the tracks indicated they were made by a lynx or bobcat and not the much larger and potentially much more dangerous cougar, seen in town only a few days earlier.

 

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Further on, eddying wind has blown snow off the smooth ice showing bubbles of gas frozen like white mushrooms as they try to unsuccessfully to reach the frozen surface, the effect split by a crack-line.

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Looking more closely at the frozen bubbles

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Clear ice shaped into smooth curves as it froze swirling around a tree stump, acting like a prism and refracting the light into rainbow colours.

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Walking back downriver on the Marsh Loop Trail, a footbridge crosses the always-flowing stream coming down from the hot spring at the Cave and Basin, the reason why Banff grew here.  Slightly ponded on the upstream side …..

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….. on the downstream side of the bridge the open channel is narrower but still flowing.

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By the time it reaches here, the hot water has cooled.  Now only a few degrees above zero it freezes on twigs and branches.

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….. and creates intricate shapes at the water’s edge

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Coming out of the forest and looking across the flat expanse of marshland towards the serrated ridge of Mount Rundle.

A great day.

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Banff, Canada: Snow Art

Walking along the pavement (sidewalk) in Bear Street to do a bit of minor shopping, head down to watch out for undulations which would indicate patches of black ice under the trodden snow, I didn’t notice the barriers across the road.  But I couldn’t miss the six 3-metre cube wooden crates sitting in the middle a few yards further on. It was if they had been beamed down from space.  I overheard one grumpy Brit from the Sarfeast complaining “They’ve just dumped them in the middle of the street”.

An A-board next to the crates announced that they may have something to do with Banff SnowDays, an annual celebration of winter in January.

SnowDays usually features come-and-try-it ice skating on the playing field alongside the high school, flooded to create an outdoor rink in the winter, music provided in case you fancy yourselves as Torvill and Dean.  For a few years there has been ice-climbing on an artificial ice-wall in Banff Avenue.  One year, ice-sculptures were dotted around the town.

This year was obviously different.

Over the next few days the sides of the crates were dismantled to expose huge cubes of compacted snow, barriers were set up and artists from North America and Europe moved in armed with power saws, handsaws, rasps, files, scrapers and polishers.

The lumpen cubes of snow were transformed into giant works of art.   When finished the barriers were opened to allow people to get close to them. Fire-tables were lit, sparkling and crackling, giving off an unbeatable smell of wood-smoke.  After dark, coloured floodlights picked out the features.    Great experience.

I heard nobody else complaining.  Everyone loved it.  All ages waited their turn for a photo opportunity in front of the skier, or the buffalos, or the explorer in a rowing boat, or the winter-visitor-with-binoculars.  Most popular seemed to be the wolf’s head with the magic wonderland in the back of it.

I don’t offer comment on the sculptures, I don’t know enough about art.  But, in my philistinic opinion, as a municipal/community/international artistic event it was right up there with the best.

Maybe inspired by the idea.  Maybe anticipating it.  A nine inch high child’s creation on a  tree stump alongside the frozen, snow-covered river.

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Across the planet and the seasons see: Nisyros: Beach Art

 

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Banff, Canada:  The Hoodoos Trail

Though skiing has been the main focus of my visits to the Canadian Rockies since I first came for Christmas 2010 they have always been about more than that.  Especially so since I invested in a pair of ice cleats and a pair of snowshoes.

I love being in the high mountains in hard winter.  My experience of the Rockies is limited to Banff and Whistler.  On the west of the Continental Divide the Whistler/Blackcombe ski area has more snow than Banff on the east side though the snow is wetter and more unpredictable.  But more to the point, Whistler is a winter sport Disneyworld, an artificial creation, whereas Banff is an, admittedly touristified, ‘real’ town.  The nub of why I prefer Banff is that there are winter trails and treks which, as far as I could find out in the two weeks I visited, are completely absent around Whistler.

So, when in Banff I intersperse skiing with trekking winter trails.

After four days skiing my legs were screaming at me. Come Saturday, when hordes of Calgarians could be reliably predicted to descend on Sunshine Village and Lake Louise, orgasmic at the thought of fresh snow which had fallen for the previous four days, I chose to take to the trails on foot rather than queue for ski lifts and then dodge the crazies and incompetents desperate to get to the base to queue again.  A dangerous place to be.

On Friday evening I bought a pair of snowshoes to replace the ones lost along with everything else in the hotel fire in Banff 29 December 2016 and brashly bragged to those who asked me when I carried them back to the hotel that I was going to trek the Hoodoos Trail on Saturday.

Then an email from my daughter alerted me to the fact that a cougar had been seen in Banff the day before. Nevertheless, Saturday morning I togged-up ready for the trek. Maybe a trifle apprehensive, but more with a frisson of excitement at the prospect of encountering natural danger rather than being run over by a bus which would be a really boring end, I set out.  By instinct, habit and former profession I looked for any evidence available so checked it out with staff in the Parks Canada Office on the way along Banff Avenue to the start of the trail which follows the Bow River at the foot of Tunnel Mountain.  They seemed blasé.

Indeed, a cougar had been seen and tracked back into the wildlife corridor …… which I was now about to follow.  I’m told there are four cougars living in the Banff area around Tunnel Mountain.  It’s their habitat.  The day before, I had watched a Siberian Husky attack a snowdrift at the side of the main street in Banff and, resisting the tugging on the lead held by its owner, emerge triumphant with an empty Starbucks take-away cup clamped on its snout.  If a dog could detect that under a foot or more of snow I had no doubt that a cougar would smell me a mile off, though it may be confused by my shower gel and not recognise me as a life-form.

I’m told that the modus operandi of the cougar is to attack from behind.  Weighing as much as a man they hit the back of neck teeth first and it’s all over before you know anything about it.  Doesn’t hold out much prospect for a photo.  As defence, I carry trekking poles on my rucksack, point up behind my neck.

Once out of the town I strained my ears to pick up any sound, stopping periodically to hush the crunch of snow under my feet, and sniffed the air like a dog constantly.  On a previous trek along the ‘Bow Falls – Hoodoos Trail’ I had encountered coyotes but this time I heard and smelled nothing until, approaching the Hoodoos, I picked up raucous laughter behind me and spotted a group of three lads on the same trail.  Until then I had been in complete sensory isolation.  Except for the sound of my feet in the snow and heavy breathing when going uphill there was complete silence.  Not even a whisper of wind in the trees. My guess is that the cougar smelled and spotted me and decided that there wasn’t enough meat on the bones to be worth the bother.

I suspect I was being over-concerned about the cougar.  Few locals have seen one in many years of living around Banff.  Cougar attacks have been few and far between, apparently only 27 attacks and seven fatalities in Canada in a century, the last a fatality in Banff National Park in 2001.  But who wants to become a statistic!

However, it made me more aware of my surroundings which were very impressive.

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The start of the Trail is along the Bow River to Surprise Corner on the cliffs high above the Bow Falls, en route looking down to the broken ice on the river as it accelerates towards the falls.  Sulphur Mountain behind.

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Zooming in on one of the collapses in the icesheet

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….. and on the snow sculpted by wind across the three-dimensional ice

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The Bow River forks, the outside bend slower flowing towards the foot of the 1,690 metre (5,544 ft) Tunnel Mountain, frozen solid showing tracks where it was crossed by a herd of elk.

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The trail narrows, deep snow to the right, short crags rising to the left, potential cougar ambush site.

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Looking across the snow covered frozen river to Mount Rundle, mid-morning sun just peeking over the side.

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A lone deciduous tree stands starkly pale against the ubiquitous lodgepole pine.

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Rising up a short cliff, the view shows the sweep of clear ice delineating  the main flow-channel of the river.

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Parks Canada has put pairs of red chairs at key viewpoints throughout the Banff National Park.  These are where the Hoodoos Trail reaches the road and a car park, others are more inaccessible.

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Dry summer grasses survive deep snow and strong winds

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A view of some of the pinnacles of rock which are the Hoodoos.

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…. and another view

 

A few days after I did this trek a cougar was seen and photographed in Banff at 03.00 ….. in the street at the side of the hotel I’m staying in.   The RCMP officer who saw it trailed it down Elk Street, past my bedroom window (I was asleep, it was shut and in any case on the first floor) and onto Banff Avenue, the town’s main street. It then ambled past the entrance to our hotel and one of the guests who was outside having a smoke. (I have always said smoking is dangerous!) It went to the entrance of the hotel next door where it triggered the automatic door which opened.  It didn’t go in.  A spokesman for Banff National Park said “it didn’t bump into any attractants”.  Never thought of myself as a potential attractant.  View newspaper report

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Banff, Canada: Sunshine Coast

Back in The Canadian Rockies.

It’s great.  Snow piled high along the sides and centre of Banff Avenue, the main street, scraped there early morning by snowploughs, a lot more moved out-of-town on huge trailers.  Still leaves a layer of compacted, very ‘slick’, snow on all roads in the town centre.  Not a problem as everyone drives carefully with consideration for other road users, especially pedestrians.  Quite alien to Grey, very occasionally White, Britain.  People climb over the snow piles to cross the road.

When I arrived temperature had risen to a toasty minus eight.  It was minus thirty for two weeks before I got here so locals think it’s like Spring has come early rather than the end-of-the-world, ‘Extreme Weather Event’ forecasts from the UK Met Office when minus 1 and 5mm of snow are in prospect.

Photos are of Sunshine Coast, a great ‘Blue’ run on Goat’s Eye Mountain, part of the Sunshine Village Ski Resort which boasts the best snow in Canada.  The access road to the base of the gondola is snow covered from the Trans-Canada Highway (the longest metalled road in the world). At 2800 metres (9,200 feet) and close to the Continental Divide the view from the top of Goat’s Eye is straight across to the summits of the many other nearby peaks.

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Self-portrait on the level section at the top of the ‘steep’ drop on Banff Avenue, the easy ‘Green’ run introduction to a new season’s skiing, newly groomed fresh snow creating a corduroy surface.  Fabulous!

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At the beginning of the long, easy run down from the top of Goat’s Eye, myriad other high peaks in view, not many below 9,000 feet.

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Pausing to look at what is just off the side of the run.

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Maintain momentum to get to the top of the fun bit on Sunshine Coast but ‘snow good, can’t help stopping to take in the beauty.

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Looking back up towards the top of Goat’s Eye

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…. and across to Eagle Mountain outside the ski boundary limit.  The only slightly less intimidating ridge to the right is a ‘Freeride Zone’ subject to special restrictions where only ‘experts’ ( a step up on Advanced’) drop of the cliffed edge into Delirium Dive.

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For us intermediates on Sunshine Coast there is the steady glide down the ‘cat-track’ to the lift base and back up for another run.  Build up enough speed on the steep section and no need to ‘pole’.  Used to take me 20 minutes per lift/ski cycle, now 15 minutes and knackered legs … and shoulders when you stop to take photos.

07   

 

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Happy New Year

2017 was not  as eventful for me as 2016, my Annus Horribilis, which included a dislocated shoulder, diagnosis of a heart condition, Easter in a Greek hospital, skin cancer …..  and culminated in an 02.30 evacuation from a hotel fire in Banff and the loss of everything I had.   But it wasn’t great, not least because of the still not successful struggles to get compensation for the losses in the fire.

Looking forward to 2018 it’s perhaps as well that I don’t believe in portents.  One recent morning the sky was streaked vivid red, painting the Monmouthshire-Brecon Canal at the end of the garden.   Only lasted a few minutes but it was very impressive.

2018 will hold whatever it does, it’s in God’s hands not some old wives/sailors/shepherds omen.

So,  happy New Year.

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Happy Christmas

Christmas in Grey Britain this year.  Weather unexciting but a couple of weeks ago we had a good fall of snow at home followed by a few days of blue skies and freezing temperatures.

Looking forward to going to Banff and a Rockies Winter in early January.  In the meantime – Happy Christmas.

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Nisyros: beach art

Nisyros has some of the most spectacular scenery and most spectacular treks in the Dodecanese.  But it’s not great for beaches.  If you want a beach holiday, Nisyros is not the island for you.

Not that it doesn’t have beaches, it’s just that they are not the sweeping stretches of golden sand which characterise other islands and there are very few sunbeds and umbrellas.

Though I’m a mountain rather than a beach person I usually pay the odd visit to a beach for a swim and a break from strenuous activity.  This year on Nisyros there was added interest – beach art, or more properly ‘land art’.

Land art, usually made of local natural materials, is often ephemeral, washed away by the tide or blown away by wind.  It’s also often in remote locations so makes it back to an urban audience only in photographs and books.  Typically, it’s not created by artists whose ambition is to make money but by those who reject the commercialisation of creativity and spurn urban living.

After a particularly strenuous few days of trekking on Nisyros in September this year I opted one day for an easier day, following the old route from the caldera rim village of Emborios down the coast near Palloi from where centuries ago local people moved to escape the constant ravages of piracy. With time to spare before the bus back to Mandraki, when I reached the coast I turned west to have a swim at the small beach beyond a great tongue of black lava poking out into the sea.

One access to the beach is through a narrow cleft in the high pumice cliffs.  Turn left onto the thin strip of beach and there is a row of shallow sea-cut caves in a line of weakness rising up the layers of pumice.  These have been the summer hang-out of youngsters for a number of summers since I’ve been coming here, strewn with artefacts of simple living, like any typical teenager’s room.  By September the caves are usually deserted as cooler weather sets in and the new academic year begins.

This year there was a radically more sophisticate dwelling.  Not quite the maisons troglodytes of the Loire Valley but with a well-constructed drystone retaining wall to expand the living space, stocked with rudimentary furniture.

At the edge of the terrace were a number of stones carefully balanced on edge and as I walked further along the foreshore there were others balanced on rocks.  Obviously someone with artistic flare and well-honed skill.

The path up to the top of the lava tongue towards Palloi had deteriorated so badly with slippage of the soft pumice cliff that I decided not to risk it. As I retraced my steps along the beach I passed the guy who obviously lived in the cave on his way back from the supermarket with plastic bags of food.  I said that I liked what he had done, for which he thanked me.  Whether he will stay over the winter, or how the retaining wall will survive winter storms I don’t know.  But it was great to see.

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The narrow cleft through the pumice cliff to the beach

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Looking along the beginning of the line of shallow caves in the pumice cliffs towards the lava tongue

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A little further and the ‘improved’ cave dwelling comes into view part way up the cliff

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Looking directly at it, the well-constructed retaining wall topped by living space under an awning

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Artwork of balanced stones on the left of the terrace

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Couldn’t help making my own contribution down on the beach, though showing less skill or artistry, just a calling card to say “I was here”

A week later, another series of hard walks, an early start so an early finish, and another visit to a beach.  This time north-facing Hochlaki Beach just round the headland from Mandraki underneath the cliff-top Enetikon Crusader castle and the Palecastro.  This is a beach of large black pebbles, a ‘dumping’ beach as sea canoeists would say, very steep in profile with large waves dumping heavily rather than rolling in.  In summer the black pebbles absorb the sun’s heat and are too hot to sit on.

A few days earlier friends had commented on the stone pillars on the beach.  Little did I appreciate how amazing they were.  Turn the corner on the path underneath the overhanging cliff and then look along the length of the beach with small stone columns stretching into the distance.  I didn’t count them but estimate there were well over 100.  Some were just single pebbles standing on end.  Others were several delicately-balanced pebbles high.

The balancing looked so impossible that the temptation was to think that they were glued or pinned.  But not so.  The friends who told me about them said a tripper had taken one apart and found it impossible to put it back together.  I wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

Three things I was sure of.  They were done by the same guy I met at the caves west of Palloi.  They represented many hours of work.  I suspect that they were done just for fun, out of a creative impulse.

The world is a better place for such creativity and love of the environment.

I walked along the beach and around the next small headland and they continued there as well.

I decided that it would be a shame if they had only a very limited audience and were to be lost for ever in the winter storms so I spent the next hour or more grovelling along the beach to try to photograph them.  They were not just impressive individually but comprised a single entity, a large installation occupying the whole length of the beach in the same way as Anthony Gormley’s ‘Another Place’ at Southport in Lancashire. The following photos are a small sample.  I didn’t have the photographic skill to capture the extent and scale of it.

On the further beach there was a different but complementary style of structure.  Hundreds of storm-randomised pebbles had been cleared from one area and a floor of stone slabs laid down.

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I have seen far less impressive works of art in galleries, including Tate Modern.  Yet this guy may be an unknown making no money from his art.  If he or someone who knows him sees this blog I hope they get in touch.  Or if there is a gallery exhibition of better quality photos of the installation I would love to know.  A check on the internet indicated that there was a land art project on Nisyros between 11 and 25 September this year but I can find no images of this beach installation – or any other land art.  In fact, despite being there for the duration, I saw no indication that there was a land art project on the island.

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