Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta
It has become a bit of a tradition now for the family to meet (somewhere in Western Canada) for what we’ve fondly dubbed “Septembermas"—a Fall familial gathering in lieu of braving the holiday chaos to convene in December. This year, Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta was our chosen destination. Other than the parents, none of us had ever visited, and indeed, most people I spoke to about the trip had never even heard of it, as its siblings to the north (Banff and Jasper) have hogged the limelight. After flying to Calgary, it was a comfortable, 3-hour drive to the south of the province and into the park.
Bear’s Hump Hike
Early on the first morning, I was eager to stretch my legs and soak in some sunrise vistas. Bear’s Hump Hike, a 2.8 km out-and-back trail, was heralded as a must-hike, for its brevity, proximity, and stunning views of the town and surrounding mountains.
I set off at first light and walked from town to the trailhead, just over 15 minutes away across from the famed Prince of Wales hotel driveway, encountering a pair of roadside deer munching on breakfast. The wide dirt trail immediately began its ascent, winding its way through shrub and scorched trees, vestiges of the 2017 Kenow Wildfire which burned about 30% of the park. I seemed to be the only one making the sunrise journey and so boom-boxed music from my phone in an effort to alert potential nearby bears to my presence. It was a beautiful, uphill climb, with a plethora of benches provided to catch one’s breath.
I always love sunrise hiking, to be able to watch a landscape transform—from the blue-grey twilight, to the shades of orange bathing the mountain tops and finally to see the flood of sunlight wash over the horizon. I managed to just reach the top as the sun peaked out, and I basked for a time.
Scampering along the cliff’s edge and peering down at the perilous drop, it was a breathtaking sight. Unsurprisingly, the wind picked up, and to avoid being swept off the cliff, I hunkered against a rock to enjoy a slice of zucchini bread with my view. Eventually, another lone hiker arrived and commended me for being the first up the mountain. After providing reciprocal photographer duties, as solo hikers must, I made my way down the trail in search of breakfast.
Carthew-Alderson Trail Hike
With most of my travels, I do try to find a lengthy hike with which to challenge myself. I had originally planned on the Crypt Lake Hike, which National Geographic declared to be one of the world’s most thrilling hikes (involving a bit of via ferrata and even climbing through a tunnel). But upon further research, many had warned that while thrilling, it wasn’t necessarily the most picturesque hike in the park, and that the Carthew-Alderson, a 20.1 km point-to-point trail, takes the cake for being the most visually rewarding.
While there is a shuttle that takes you from the townsite to the trailhead, I was hoping to get a bit of an earlier start. The parents kindly made the 20-minute drive at first light and bid me farewell, not before taking a few snaps of the stunning Cameron Lake. I had been given the run-down the previous day by park rangers about bear safety (learning that in fact music/bear bells are not effective and actually attract bears!). Human voices are preferable, and that best practice is to call out (e.g. “hey bear!”) when going around blind corners.
Armed with this knowledge, I set off into the forest, a touch apprehensive about having an encounter with bear enjoying his morning berries. And so, with little regard for my dignity, I spent the first kilometre or so warbling to myself, running through a gamut of musical theatre selections. Mercifully, I heard voices coming up the trail behind me and let the large-ish group of hikers go by, eager for them to blaze the trail and ward off any bears. I soon learned that it was a fairly heterogenous group in terms of skillset, as a subset stopped frequently to rest. I initially tried to wait and let the group continue on ahead of me, but eventually I gave up, and went around them.
After about 4 km of gradual switch-backs up through the trees and brush, the trail levelled out. It was already starting to get hot, and so I found myself an obliging rock behind which to make a quick change into shorts and a tank top. It wasn’t long before I came across Summit Lake, with its beautiful mountain reflections and the first of many likes I’d encounter on this hike. I eventually emerged above the tree line and trekked towards Carthew Summit.
Despite only being mid-morning, the sun and heat beat down on the trail, and I was grateful for the hat I’d acquired the previous day. The path followed the curve of the cirque (a glacier-carved bowl or amphitheatre) and overlooked a valley of burnt out forest. It was a bit of an eerie sight, the vast stretches of scorched trees, as if I were walking through a graveyard laden with bones jutting out of the ground.
Nevertheless, I made my way across the scree-lined trail, stopping frequently to marvel at distant lakes and snow-dotted mountains. I soon came to a surprisingly precipitous uphill climb, mostly challenging because it seemed to just be awash with loose gravel. I slowly shuffled up the trail, digging in my hiking boots to find semi-solid footholds. Thankfully, it was a relatively short stretch, and I was soon scampering up the trail to the summit, providing truly panoramic views of the park and even out to the prairies beyond.
I made my way along the ridgeline to the Carthew Summit Overlook to glimpse the neighbouring Glacier National Park across the border in Montana. From there, I began the descent through a remarkable red-rock landscape. It was such a sudden geological change, it was as if I’d suddenly been transported to the surface of Mars.
At this point, I had just passed the halfway point in the journey, and while that would normally give me joy, I was somewhat dreading what was now to come: 9 km of downhill. I was grateful for my hiking poles, but my knees were already objecting just looking at the winding trail draped along the rock below. The loose rock coupled with mounting knee pain meant my pace slowed dramatically. I hobbled down towards the beautiful Carthew Lakes, nestled in a hanging valley. I celebrated my arrival by resting my sore limbs and scarfing down a sandwich.
From there, the trail closely followed the lake’s edge, and it was a mercifully flat journey. Passing through brush and crops of trees, I eventually crested a hill looking down at Alderson Lake in the distance. Particularly going downhill, I can get quite focused on the trail, ensuring solid footing, so it was good to regularly stop and look up—almost missed a charming little waterfall snaking down a mountain next to me. I marvelled at the sheer size of the mountain wall ahead of me, musing that it looked a bit like a fallen rock giant.
Eventually, I reached forest once again. I’d like to say that I enjoyed immersing myself in this rich, natural environment. Admittedly, I did not. This was in large part because my knees were at that point basically destroyed. I spent the last 7 km of the trail, shuffling through what became very monotonous, seemingly never-ending forest. I passed the time listening to a motley selection of music in one ear (from Tom Waits to Paul Simon), frequently calling out “hey bear” as I rounded corners. My knees and left foot (I later learned I’d acquired a nasty abrasion on one toe) became quite unbearable in the last couple of hours of my journey, that I was grateful to be alone so no one else would witness my steady stream of groans, moans, and whimpers.
I was so relieved to see the Waterton townsite come into view. I slowly picked my way down the trail to the terminus at Cameron Falls, happy get a ride the relatively short distance back to our hotel. Despite the pain and grumbling for the last half of the hike, I am glad to have witnessed such a diversity of stunning landscapes. After 7.5 hours, ~28k steps, with an elevation gain of 788 m and elevation loss of 1016 m, I was a satisfied (if not a bit broken) hiker.
Horseback ride through the valley
For my final day, I was eager to get off my feet and onto a horse. I booked a 2-hour trail ride with Alpine Stables, family-owned and in operation since 1969. It had been a number of years since I’d been horseback riding, but thankfully, these horses were well-trained and calm. I mounted my chocolate brown mount, aptly named “Fudge”, and our small group of 5 or so riders were soon ambling along through the fields.
The steady rock of being on horseback was oddly soothing, and I was keenly grateful to be riding rather than walking. The trail led us through forest and across streams, and our friendly guide pointed out bear trails and their claw marks on the surrounding trees. As the other riders were well-seasoned, she felt comfortable leading us down quite steep trails.
My mind wandered as I took in the sweeping views, imagining myself part of a frontier caravan or, let’s be honest, a Lord of the Rings-style quest. Though after two hours and an increasingly sore bottom, I certainly had an appreciation for those who spend full days on horseback. Fudge was fairly placid, so it took a fair bit of encouragement for her to close any gaps at a trot (though it was always exciting to go any faster than a walk).
Soon enough, we were back at the stables again, and I bid my dear steed farewell. Dad noted I was the only rider to walk over to visit after dismounting. Seemed only right after hauling my girth up and down the trail for 120 minutes to give Fudge’s nose a bit of a scratch.
Other jaunts around Waterton
Cruising Around Waterton Lake
The whole family went out for a Waterton Cruise around the lake. We boarded the historic M.V. International, the oldest passenger ship still operating in Canada. It was also the only “wheelchair-accessible” boat in the fleet. In scare quotes here, as they do technically have a ramp but for whatever reason there’s about a half a foot drop from the ramp to the deck, which meant myself and an assortment of crew members lifted it the remaining distance. Other than it was a relaxing if not blustery 75 minute ride, soaking in sun and mountains, with a surprisingly informative commentary. We even crossed the border in to the US, demarcated by a strip of hewn trees on either side of the lake.
Red Rock Canyon
A short drive from the Waterton townsite brings you to Red Rock Canyon, so named for its red and green coloured bedrock called argillite. It was also a (fairly) wheel-chair accessible trail (or as my sister calls it “accessible plus one”, with paved paths along the canyon edge. It was relatively busy, and I made the short climb down into the canyon to walk along the mountain stream in search of a people-free shot (to no avail). On the drive home, some of us even managed to spot a bear out the back of the car, ambling along in the distance. Wildlife win!
Wildlife Spotting
As the parents are seasoned Waterton visitors, they know the good spots to look out for wildlife, in this case elk. We set off at dusk one evening in search of them, driving to a couple of places just outside the town, before spotting a cluster of cars lining the road. We hunkered down with rolled down windows, trading use of the binoculars, and watched the herd slowly edge closer. We were there during rutting season and so actually heard the elk bulls bugling. There was a bit of magic to the serenity and reverence of this place—quietly watching these majestic animals just going about their business.
dramatic sunset farewell on our last night