Marvelous marmots

7/26/2017

The haze of distant wildfires settled over Jasper National Park once more, seeming quite permanently affixed to the mountains for the day. Aha, but I had already seen my mountain vistas yesterday – so I was not too peeved.

Instead of looking for soaring, wide-open (and smoke-filled) spaces, I headed back south down the Icefields Parkway to Athabasca Falls, a popular destination. There, the wide, slow Athabasca River gets funneled down through a narrow slot canyon, temporarily turning the gentle giant into a raging torrent. Signs are posted everywhere on the trail warning tourists against standing closer to the falls, which are known to be deadly. After standing close to the head of the falls, it’s easy to see why. The entire river empties down one rocky throat, cascading down sharp rocks and gathering in a maelstrom at the base of the falls, swirling around and around in a basin before exiting out the bottom of the slot canyon. Standing so close to the waterfall gives you an appreciation for the brutality of the thing, the force with which the water exerts its will. The entire slot canyon has been carved by the river over thousands of years, reaching dozens of feet in depth through simple erosive powers.

The whole river drains down this relatively tiny spout.

At the base of the slot canyon, the river spreads out again into a wide, fairly placid body of water. It seems almost impossible that the river – which is over a hundred feet wide upstream, and a few hundred feet wide downstream – could get forced through a canyon only a few feet in diameter. It is certainly one of the most dramatic bottlenecks I’ve seen in a river.

Checking out an old channel abandoned by the river long ago.

Cross-bedding! Hmm.

The river resumes its wide, placid course at the bottom of the falls.

Athabasca Falls is a short hike, so I didn’t spend much time there. I had no plans for the rest of the day but fortunately ran into the Parks Canada people (equivalent to the US NPS park rangers) at the entrance to the falls. One fellow advised me to go to Mount Edith Cavell for a hike around the Meadows Trail, which is known for its incredible views of glaciers and wildflowers alike. The catch, he said, was that I’d need a permit from the bureau to go hike, because they were doing construction in the parking lot and were only allowing so many cars to go up there in a given day. I had plans to leave Jasper the next morning, so no chance at a permit for me… bummer!

But then luck struck in the form of this fellow’s kind heart. “Well, don’t worry, we’re each kind of allowed to let up one extra person a day, so if you get to the entrance at 4 PM I’ll let you up! It’ll be late enough in the day that there will be plenty of parking anyways,” he said.

“Great, I’ll be driving a blue 1966 Mustang, so I’m easy to find,” I said.

He gaped at me, then managed, “Not what I expected to hear! Okay, I’ll see you then. Go hike Valley of Five Lakes if you’re looking for something to do until 4.”

So, because this fellow had offered me such wonderful advice up until that point, I took that nugget as well and headed to Valley of Five Lakes. I didn’t have the time to hike all the way along the long part of the loop, but I did get to see ach of the five lakes in this valley! Each lake is a slightly different color for a slightly different reason. My favorite was the grass green lake, just because it was a color that I’ve never seen a lake take before. Also, it had ducks in it.

The lakes are much more scenic on clear, calm days, but they were still pretty neat to see. And they made a good prelude to the Mount Edith Cavell hike.

The Canadian national parks for some reason have these red chairs installed at particularly scenic spots. They are nice to sit in.

A leaf with a snail trail on it! Or some other small animal - unknown, but it just went in circles around this leaf chowing down on the good bits.

At 4 PM sharp, I showed up in line to get up the side of the mountain. And sure enough, there was my new friend. He waved me on through, grinning, and I thanked him profusely as I roared up the mountain to the waiting parking lot. The sun descended low over Edith Cavell, cascading across the meadows and forests through which the Meadows trail wound. The time of day was perfect, as was the weather, and a lot of wildlife was out soaking up the last rays of the sun as I headed out on the trail.

The first portion of the trail struts up a rocky ridge ringing with the “eep!”s of pikas calling back and forth to one another. Over the ridge, you are treated to a stunning view of Edith Cavell and a couple of large glaciers. The largest glacier, Angel, sits in a bowl near the top of the mountain with its wings spread along the ridge, head craned down over the edge to inspect the valley below. A waterfall pours from its mouth, feeding a large lake at the base of the mountain. A second glacier rests in that lake, remarkably chopped in half and showing an incredible cross-section depicting its growth through time.

Look at those whiskers!

Cross-section of a glacier - check out the awesome layering!

I pulled my eyes away from the glaciers to focus on the meadows, which were admittedly beautiful but not nearly as colorful as those at Glacier National Park. I did see a marmot licking a tree though, which was interesting.

The wildflowers were actually quite beautiful.

As I hiked through the meadows I was periodically treated to echoing cracking sounds and sprays of ice tumbling from the upper parts of the mountain – glaciers are not still beasts, after all. They move ever downward, always seeking a lower point in the land. While their slow, steady creep, born through ice and meltwater, progresses fairly regularly, they do tend to crack off chunks of ice and rock that have the potential to snowball into huge avalanches. I didn’t luck into seeing any of those, though it did later occur to me that the chunks of ice I saw cracking off were likely boulders larger than I am. It is easy to forget your sense of perspective when in places this vast.

Having looped my way around the meadows and the top of the low ridge in the shelter of Edith Cavell, I headed back down the trail. As I reached the rock piles again, I heard some scuffling and squeaking. After a bit of searching, I located the source of the sound and was treated to an amazing wildlife sighting: a marmot fight.

Now, you’d probably expect a fight to be one of those brutal tussles you see on National Geographic, with the animals rolling all across the ground biting and clawing and kicking and bleeding. But I am here to tell you that marmots do not fight this way. Instead, they stand up on their hind legs and… push each other. Yep, just hand-to-hand pushing. Every once in a while they’ll go to bite each other, and kind of lock their teeth together in what really looks like an overenthusiastic kiss, but mostly they just push each other. It's like watching a slap fight where the combatants are just too lazy to actually slap each other.

Super dramatic push!

Every once in a while, one of them would lose their footing and fall over and then the other one would fall over too and then they both would kind of make grumbly chirps and squeaks while pushing each other some more, before finally righting themselves. And eventually, they both just kind of walked away.

It was by far the best fight I’ve ever seen.

This guy watched.

This little guy was not a witness, but was just so incredibly cute that I had to post his picture anyways.

I kind of wonder if maybe we shouldn’t all just fight that way. I mean, maybe it’s actually great for problem-solving and calming tempers. Just standing there with your hands against someone’s shoulders, their hands against yours, just pushing each other steadily until one of you gets distracted and falls down. I don’t think I could keep a straight face doing that and I definitely couldn’t stay mad. Maybe I’ll try that technique next time I get in a fight with someone.

Anyways, that concluded my hikes for the day. Three hikes in one afternoon – not bad! Jane and I made our way back to the campsite and I admit I was a bit heavy-hearted, despite the afternoon’s entertainment. Unfortunately, today was my last day in Jasper National Park. Tomorrow, I’ll be heading on west towards Vancouver, and all I’ll do is drive. Once I get out of the Rockies, there won’t be any giant glaciers, sweeping mountains, or marmot fights. I suspect I may be quite bored.

Until then… Kelly signing out.

Bonus picture of a weird tree with some weird stuff going on with its cones. Don't know what's going on here really but it would be cool if someone knew and could tell me!