Heading to the Warm Waters of the Caribbean

Friday — November 27

We don’t usually book our “R&R” cruises to the Caribbean far in advance, but we made an exception for this cruise on Mercury. I paid the deposit on this sailing over a year ago. Why? Because it’s not often that Celebrity ports a ship in Baltimore, Maryland — just an hour’s drive from our house. Because there is only one of a limited number of sailings we’re interested in — the between Thanksgiving and Christmas cruise. Because there are only four cabins in the specific category we want — a Concierge Class with an extra-big veranda. Because the price is right — in fact, it’s a downright bargain for a Baltimore cruise.

This will be our eighth cruise to the warm waters of the Caribbean in as many years. We find that these cruises are a nice balance with our active land vacations, which tend to focus on exploring new places rather than relaxing. On a Caribbean cruise, we kick back on our veranda on sea days and take it easy on port days. Mui goes snorkeling; I read in a shady spot on the beach. If it’s an island that we’ve not visited before, we’ll explore it a bit, but nothing like what we might do on our land vacations.

”Two to Travel” goes on a cruise to the Caribbean.

Tomorrow we head to Baltimore for a pre-cruise weekend before we embark Mercury on November 30. We’ll have three days at sea to start out. Next will be a succession of ports — St Thomas and St Croix, US Virgin Islands; St Kitts; Antigua; and St Maarten. The cruise will continue with another three days at sea before we disembark in Baltimore on December 12.

Here's hoping for calm seas, gentle breezes, and plenty of sunshine!

Next Up: Pre-Cruise in Baltimore

National Colonial Farm

A beautiful fall Sunday found us itching to go out and enjoy the day. Around 10:00a, we left the house and drove the 17 miles (27 km) to National Colonial Farm, located on the grounds of Piscataway National Park in Accokeek, Maryland.

Our route to National Colonial Farm takes us across the Potomac.

Our first stop was at the visitor center where a helpful volunteer provided us with a map for a self-guided tour. From there, we headed to the fishing pier. Our interest wasn’t in casting a line. Rather, we wanted to take in the scenery, which included a glimpse of George Washington’s Mount Vernon estate across the Potomac River.

Mount Vernon across the Potomac.

A short walk from the pier took us to the farm. Along the way, we made the acquaintance of a couple of Ossabaw hogs and several Hog Island sheep. Both species are considered to be rare breeds — there are fewer than 200 registered sheep, for example. Both species are part of Accokeek Foundation's conservancy program, as are the black Spanish turkeys, the Dominique chickens, and the milking red Devon cattle that can be seen in the barnyard.

A tree-lined path leads to the farm.

An Ossabaw hog taking a mid-morning nap.

A curious Hog Island sheep.

Although many of the colonial era estates in the area have been preserved, most of the small tobacco plantations have disappeared. The Colonial Farm was founded in 1958 to give people a glimpse into life on one such plantation prior to the American Revolution. As the nearby signage put it, “… the farmhouse, tobacco house, kitchen, crops, gardens, and chestnut rail fences all paint a picture of a rural, often isolated family life.”

On our way to the farmhouse, we stopped to peek inside the barn where the cash crop — tobacco — was dried and readied for the market.

The tobacco house — an integral part of farm operations.

In its heyday, the barn would have been filled to the rafters with tobacco.

Left: Mui at Colonial Farm.
Right: A closer look at the 18th century farmhouse.

The young volunteer on duty at the farmhouse was inexperienced, but showed great enthusiasm as she greeted us at the front door. She started her spiel by telling us that the house dated back to 1770 and was lived in until the 1950s. The family that farmed here was considered a middling-sort — in other words, they owned the land. They grew three acres of tobacco and three acres of corn.

The family would have initially lived in a smaller, self-built cabin. When they had enough wealth to commission the construction of a house, the cabin would have become the out-kitchen. The house would have started out small, perhaps just one room, and the family would have added onto it as their wealth grew.

The farmhouse (left) and out-kitchen from the barnyard.

This particular house had two rooms and an attic. The attic wasn't meant for people to live in as it would have been too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. It was perfect for storage, however. That made the rooms on the ground floor the heart of the house. The finished walls in the first room was an indication that this was where visitors were greeted and entertained. It probably also served as a bedroom since space was at a premium. It was in this room that the family would display the “luxury” items they wanted to show off to their neighbors. Luxury in this case would have been equated with “unnecessary for day-to-day life.” Our guide pointed out a number of visible nail heads in the walls and told us that they were another means for the family to show off their wealth — nails were apparently expensive and the more you used in the construction of your house, the more money you obviously had. Keeping up with the Joneses in colonial times!!!

The finished walls indicate that this is the room where visitors were greeted and entertained.

The second room is unfinished — this would have been typical for a room that only the family used.

From the house, we walked into the adjacent vegetable and herb garden; this area would have been the responsibility of the women of the family. Our next stop was the cabin-turned-kitchen, which was also where the family’s slave slept. After a few minutes in the kitchen, we beat a hasty retreat as the smoke from the fire had our eyes tearing up.

We learn a little bit about a colonial era farm kitchen.

None of the modern conveniences, yet the women of the house managed to turn out filling meals in this kitchen.

With our tour at an end, we made our way back to the picnic tables we’d seen near the fishing pier. Here, we ate a simple lunch before bringing our outing to a close. Our visit to the farm wasn’t perfect — a more knowledgeable docent would have added tremendously to our experience. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our time at National Colonial Farm. That’s what really counts.

For a video clip of our visit to the farm, click here.

George Washington's Distillery & Gristmill

After an overcast and dreary week, it was simply impossible to resist a day that was forecasted to have blue skies and sunshine with a high of 76F (24C). In our continuing quest to explore the many interesting places within a short drive of our house, we headed to George Washington’s Distillery & Gristmill at Dogue Run Farm, located not far from his Mount Vernon Estate.

Ours was the only car in the parking lot when we arrived shortly after 9:00a. Except for a couple of locals fishing in the creek near the mill, we had the grounds to ourselves. And even later, there was only one other person on the official tour that gained us entrance into the buildings.

A beautiful day to visit George Washington’s distillery and gristmill.
(the gristmill is partially hidden by the trees on the left)

The buildings we toured today are reconstructions. The original mill was built in 1770 after George Washington switched from tobacco to wheat as his main cash crop. He had two sets of millstones installed, using the second one for other grains (primarily corn). Interested in incorporating labor-saving technologies, he later installed an automated milling system and turned his “toll” mill (where he ground his own grain, but charged a toll for grinding the grain of other farmers) to a “merchant” mill (where he ground grain not only for use at Mount Vernon, but also for sale as far away as Portugal and the West Indies).

George Washington’s Gristmill

We started out in the gristmill where a millwright showed us the inner workings of the operation from the “slipper” that feeds the grain into the millstones, to the gears that drive the machinery, to the waterwheel that powers the whole operation. (The reconstructed mill has the advantage of an electric pump that the original mill did not have.) The end result — in our case, corn meal.

The millstone set up on the left is used for wheat; the one on the right for all other grains.

The water wheel powers the gear mechanism that turns the runner stone to grind the grain.
(note the bed stone near the ceiling)

From the mill, we continued onto the distillery, an endeavor Washington started up in 1797 upon the advice of his farm manager, James Anderson. As his manager put it, all of the key components for making whiskey were already in place: an abundant supply of grain and a water system to operate the stills. When completed a year later, the distillery had five copper stills and all of the other essential equipment. The operation went from producing 4,000 gallons (~15,100 liters) in the first year to 11,000 gallons (~42,000 liters) the next. It was one of the largest distilleries in the US until it burned down in 1814.

The reconstructed Distillery at Dogue Run Farm.

A glimpse into the distillery operation — from the boiler on the left to the stills on the right.

One of the exhibits on the second floor museum at the Distillery.

From the placard next to the image: “As was the custom in the century leading up to the Civil War, candidates for political office entertained voters with alcoholic refreshments at the polls. After suffering defeat in his first campaign for election to Virginia’s House of Burgesses, Washington learned that success in politics depended on treating the voters. When in 1758 Washington ran again for election to the House, he spent freely on large quantities of beer, rum punch, wine, strong cider, and brandy, and this time he won.”

Our visit to George Washington’s Distillery and Gristmill was both informative and entertaining … a very nice fall outing.

Click here if you would like to see a clip of the gristmill in operation, including a quick visit to the distillery.

Canadian Rockies: Travel Day #2

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Sunday — September 6

Just so you’re not kept in suspense — we’re home! Here’s how our unplanned travel day unfolded.

Up at 5:00a, we quickly got ready and went down to have breakfast. Service was swift (we were the only ones partaking of the breakfast buffet); the food was good. Thanks to the meal vouchers from UA, we didn’t have to pay a dime. At 6:30a, we were on the hotel shuttle to O’Hare, fingers crossed for a smooth flight and on time arrival in DC.

A line up of aircraft follow as we taxi for take-off.

UA flight 606 pushed back on time for an 8:37a departure. Once the doors were closed, Mui hopped into the row behind me to give himself a little extra legroom, leaving the two seats in the exit row to me.

Lucky guy! There’s no seat in front of him!

The flight was uneventful. By the time we finished sipping our sodas, it was time to bring our seats upright for landing at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. A few more minutes, and were on the ground at 11:15a.

The Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial welcome us back to DC.

With a half-empty aircraft and seats close to the front, it took us no time at all to deplane and head to baggage claim. From our conversation with the gate agent at O’Hare, we knew that our luggage was being transported by AA — go figure; they wouldn’t take us, but they did our bags!!! Anyway, the UA baggage claim agent confirmed that our two pieces were on the AA flight due to land at noon. We could have made arrangements for the luggage to be delivered to the house and left at that point. Instead, we decided to have lunch at the airport and then go home with our bags.

After browsing the directory of eateries, we settled on the Cibo Bistro and Wine Bar. As it wasn’t quite noon yet, we were the only customers and had no problems being seated at one of the concourse tables where we entertained ourselves watching travelers going about their airport business. I ordered the “pancetta wrapped grilled shrimp” served on a bed of Caribbean rice. It was quite good, but not nearly as good as Mui’s “calamari salad.”

Lunch at Cibo’s; a good way to pass the time while we wait for our bags to arrive.

Left: Pancetta wrapped grilled shrimp; Right: Calamari salad.

Our timing could not have been better. When we made our way back down to baggage claim, we were just in time to see our bags come down the chute and onto the carousel. Two minutes later, we were heading to the taxi line. The mid-day Sunday traffic was non-existent and we were home by 12:45p.

By the way — something I meant to include in yesterday’s post. When the UA agent at O’Hare was rebooking us, he noted that there was a good chance AA had refused to honor our tickets because they were award tickets worth only $80. I guess AA would rather let two seats go empty than get some amount of money for them, no matter how minimal. Go figure! In any event, we’ve learned our lesson — if we’re traveling on award tickets, we won’t accept a transfer to another airline should the occasion arise in the future.

Canadian Rockies: Travel Interrupted

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Saturday — September 5

While Mui checks out the Duty Free shop in the US Departures Lounge at Edmonton International Airport, I’ve made myself comfortable at one of the workstations to start today’s blog.

After a good night’s rest, we were up at 6:30a. Our original intent had been to do some sightseeing in Edmonton this morning. Those plans went out the window a month ago when United canceled our scheduled late afternoon departure and moved us to the 12:54p flight. I suppose, we could have gone to Fort Edmonton for a quick look-see anyway, but it would have made for a rushed morning. Instead, we took our time getting ready, had breakfast in the atrium restaurant, took a walk in Whitemud Park to stretch our legs, and finally headed to the airport around 10:00a.

Atrium – Radisson Hotel Edmonton South

First item of business after turning in the rental car was to stop by Lost & Found to see if my black pashmina had been turned in. I had no real hope of seeing my cozy little wrap again, so I was pleasantly surprised when the attendant said, “A black scarf with tassels, right?” With the pashmina I bought in Jasper, I am now the proud owner of not two, but three wraps.

Check-in at the United counter was a piece of cake. We showed our pre-printed boarding passes, had our IDs verified, and continued on with all of our luggage in tow to go through US Immigration and Customs. Passport control was a breeze and within minutes we were checking our two bags and going through security.

And now, all we have to do is wait a bit longer for boarding to be called. Time to move over to our gate … more later.

… later — 2:30p MDT

I had hoped that later would be either aboard our flight to Chicago or as we winged our way to Washington DC on the second leg of our trip. That’s not the case. The information board at the gate may well show UA 5854 as “departed/parti,” but I beg to differ. We’re still at the airport in Edmonton. The aircraft that was to have taken us to Chicago apparently developed engine vibrations beyond acceptable tolerances, so we’re waiting for another aircraft to arrive. New departure time is estimated to be around 4:00p.

The board may show our flight as “departed,” but we’re still at the Edmonton Airport.

The United agents are working flight connections, calling passengers up one at a time. That’s a good thing as the usual rebooking chaos is non-existent. We decided not to wait on them, however. Mui worked the phones and UA transferred us to an American Airlines (AA) flight out of Chicago. We’ll end up at Reagan National instead of Dulles, but that’s not a problem for us. We’ll also be arriving later than originally planned. That’s not a big deal either … we have two days of a long weekend to recuperate. More later…

… later — 10:00p CDT

We’re still not where we should be, but our travel day has come to an end. At least we made it to Chicago and have just a short flight to complete our journey home tomorrow.

The replacement aircraft — a CRJ700 — whisked us away from Edmonton at 4:00p MDT as anticipated. I couldn’t help but note that had our original flight not been canceled a month ago, we’d be leaving Edmonton pretty close to this time. Under those circumstances, we would have at least done some sightseeing in the city rather than killing time at the airport. Oh well!

The flight to Chicago was uneventful and we landed at O’Hare at 8:00p CDT, giving us some hope of making our 8:55p connection on AA. That was before we taxied forever and had a last minute gate change that took away 15 minutes of our layover. To make matters worse, we found ourselves deplaning at Terminal 1. We double-timed it through the airport to Terminal 3, arriving at the gate with 4 minutes to spare. Those who know O’Hare will appreciate what a haul that was. Too bad none of the seven electric carts (yes, I counted them) we saw along the way had a driver anywhere nearby. Things might have turned out differently had we been able to arrive at the gate earlier.

We double-timed it from the far end of concourse C to a gate at the far end of concourse G.

Huffing and puffing, we gave our documents to the AA agent only to be told that she had no record of us. She called a supervisor and eventually found our record, but denied boarding anyway. Hearing her utter the words “You will have to call United, they did not transfer your ticket,” was not what we wanted to hear — especially when she then proceeded to close the gate.

On that note, we started the long walk back to Terminal 1 to find a UA customer service counter that was manned. When we finally found a UA agent, he was very helpful. He rebooked us on the first flight out tomorrow, gave us hotel and meal vouchers, told us that complimentary toiletry kits were available in baggage claim, and gave us directions to the hotel shuttle bus stop.

And that’s how I came to be seated on the couch at the Sheraton Gateway Suites, eating peanut butter and crackers as I wrap up this post. Suite 320 is spacious, clean, and comfortable. It has all the amenities we need for a one-night stay.

Suite 320 — Sheraton Gateway Suites — Chicago

Suite 320 — Sheraton Gateway Suites — Chicago

All in all, we can’t complain. Yes, we’ve been inconvenienced by the deviation to our travel plans, but things could have been far more frustrating if UA had not been so easy to work with on the alternate arrangements. Besides, in over 25 years of travel, we’ve not had any such issues. The law of averages was bound to catch up with us.

Here’s to a good night's rest and the continuation of our travels tomorrow.

Next Up: Travel Day #2

Canadian Rockies: Back to Edmonton

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Friday — September 4

The dreary day — overcast skies, on-and-off drizzle interspersed with sudden downpours, and stiff breezes that chilled the air — made it easier to leave Jasper behind today. Although our flight back home isn’t until mid-day tomorrow, for all intents and purposes our vacation has come to an end. And it did so with a bang — but more about that later.

Since we didn’t have to check out until 11:00a, we took our time this morning. We had hoped to enjoy breakfast on the porch, but the morning chill made that impossible. Instead, we ate in the dining nook, packed our bags, had a snack on the porch, and left Alpine Village behind around 10:30a — but not before capturing a photo of a black bear cub climbing a tree!

I never said it was a real bear cub!

Our morning plans didn’t quite go as planned. The Pocahontas Mine Trail was a bust with little remaining to be seen of the former coal mine; the Punch Bowl Falls were a mere trickle (glad we didn’t do the hike to get there); and the Miette Hot Springs reminded us of a giant communal hot tub.

Mui tries his hand at being a coal miner.

You’d think all of the above would have made for a disappointing end to our last day in JNP. But no. Had we not done those things, we would have missed the perfect end to our vacation: a black bear in the bushes just before the JNP exit. The encounter got better when the bear came out of the bushes to walk in the clearing, standing up occasionally to pick berries from the high branches. Couldn’t have asked for better.

Just when we thought we wouldn’t be seeing a bear on this trip …

… out comes a black bear from the bushes for a perfect roadside encounter.

It would have been hard to pull ourselves away from our bear sighting, but he made it easy by turning around after a while and disappearing into the bushes.

After bidding JNP farewell, we didn’t stop until we reached Hinton. At the Natural Resources Interpretive Center we had a picnic lunch and Mui drooled over what he would fondly call a “Tonka truck” — in reality, a coal mining truck.

Mui doesn’t know what the sign says; I’ll tell him later!

That’s a big Tonka truck!

This mining truck would have moved 12,000,000 tons of rock during its 20-year career.

When we got back on the road, I pulled out my laptop to edit blog entries and weed through the black bear photos I had taken. Before I knew it, we were at the Edmonton city limits and I was putting aside my writing to provide navigational assistance.

The drizzle that had dogged us from Jasper turned into a steady rain as we found our way through the Edmonton neighborhoods. Bagging our plans for exploring downtown Edmonton, we detoured to the West Edmonton Mall, which claims to be the biggest in North America and the fifth largest in the world.

Noting that it was past 6:00p, we decided to get a bite to eat first. We couldn’t resist going to the Old Spaghetti Factory — we have fond memories of the one at Trolley Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, where we lived for 8 years. I ordered my favorite — spaghetti with mushroom sauce; Mui decided to be adventurous and ordered the linguine with red Thai curry and prawns. Not gourmet food by any stretch of the imagination, but good comfort food.

Old Spaghetti Factory — West Edmonton Mall

Afterwards, we wandered around the mall for a bit to see some of the attractions I remembered from my visit in 1990 when I attended a regional convention for Desk and Derrick, an educational organization I used to belong to. We checked out the replica of Columbus’s Santa Maria, the Waterpark, and the regulation-size hockey rink. All of the attractions were closed for the day, but since we were using this more as an opportunity to stretch our legs than to entertain ourselves, we didn’t really mind.

Replica of Columbus's Santa Maria, complete with pirates and a sunken treasure.

During the daytime, the waterpark is a happening kind of place. Not so after hours.

By the time we left the mall at 8:00p, the rain was over. In fact, the sun was out. Having been on the go all day, however, we decided to head to the hotel — the Radisson where we spent our arrival night in Edmonton.

Tomorrow, we head back to the US. We had a terrific vacation and we’re sorry to be leaving, but the Canadian Rockies have not seen the last of us … I’m sure we’ll be back someday!

Next Up: Travel Interrupted

Canadian Rockies: Quest for Salmon in British Columbia

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Thursday — September 3

It’s about 11:00p. I’m too revved up to sleep, so I might as well get this post written. It’s a good thing we have no early plans tomorrow and can sleep in a bit — if our biological clocks will let us!

Our quest to see the salmon run took us on a 450-mile (750 km) journey in the neighboring province of British Columbia (BC) today. Crazy, right? This wasn’t by design, but so be it. We enjoyed our day — at least most of it — and that’s what counts when you’re on vacation.

Originally, we were going to drive only as far as Valemount — but best laid plans …

We left the cabin at 7:30a to head east on the Yellowhead Trail (Hwy 16) — destination: Mount Robson Provincial Park (MRPP) in BC. Our day got off to a good start with a sighting of a bull elk grazing roadside not long after we started our drive.

This is my good side!

It was only 48F (9C) when we arrived at Yellowhead Pass, the lowest highway crossing on the Continental Divide. The sunshine and clear skies encouraged us to dally a bit at the Portal Lake Picnic area at the entrance to MRPP. We checked out the trail around the lake (too muddy to walk); took advantage of a photo op with a mountain goat; and read the signage that explained the historic pass was named for a fair-haired Iroquois fur trader, nicknamed “Tête Jeune” (Yellowhead), who worked in the area during the early part of the 19th century.

Photo op with a mountain goat!

We didn’t get far after leaving Portal Lake — the scenery at Yellowhead Lake with the mountain backdrop was just too beautiful to pass without stopping for a quick photo op.

Yellowhead Lake and Mountain

After that, we managed to reach our first planned destination of the day — Overlander Falls — without any further stops. Located a short distance off the highway, the falls required just a short stroll through the forest to reach the observation platform.

Overlander Falls from the viewing platform.

The falls were named for a group of 175 men and women who came to be known as the “Overlanders” for their daring land trip from Ontario to the newly-discovered goldfields in central BC. Why was a land trip across Canada considered to be daring? Because in the spring of 1862, the usual route to the west coast was by sea, around the southern tip of South America. Ironically, as they made their way west, they heard so many tales of hardships in the goldfields that many of the people gave up on the idea of mining. Some settled in the Kamloops area while others traveled to the coast to find work. Still others returned home. Few actually made it to the goldfields.

Not satisfied with the viewing angles from the observation platform, we found our way through the trees and down to the rocks below — much better. Perched near the edge of the water, we took our photos, enjoyed the solitude, and ate our morning snack. Occasionally, people showed up at the overlook, but they didn’t stay long. It was nice to have the place mostly to ourselves.

A “we were at Overlander Falls” photo op.

By the time we reached the Mount Robson visitor center, the sunshine and blue skies had been replaced with overcast, and there was a light drizzle falling. Nonetheless, we were in luck. Mount Robson, the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, was “out.” Though the mountain was 4 miles (~6½ km) from where we were standing, its immense size (it rises to 12,970 feet [~3,954 m]), made it seem like it was within arm’s reach.

We’re in luck; Mount Robson is “out” today.

Mount Robson — the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies.

It was at the visitor center that our day took a different tack. We’d been planning to go to Rearguard Falls to see the salmon run. As luck would have it, the falls were closed to the public due to the delayed construction of a new viewing platform. The alternate suggestion was to drive to Clearwater, 2½ hours away. After debating the idea for a few minutes, we decided to go for it. Had we known that we were going to drive right into a big rain storm, we might have backtracked to Jasper to spend the afternoon at the cabin instead. Oh well!

On the way down, we made a quick stop at the George Hicks Regional Park outside Valemount to see the Swift Creek gravel beds where Chinook salmon come to spawn after traveling over 750 miles (~1,200 km) from the Pacific Ocean.

For those not familiar with the phenomena of the salmon migration, a short explanation.

Salmon begin life in freshwater. They then travel downstream to the ocean to mature. Upon maturity, they start the long journey back to where they were spawned to leave their eggs before they die. This is not an easy journey as they are now swimming upstream, battling currents, waterfalls, and rapids all the way. Once they reach the shallow gravel beds of their native stream, they pair off and search for nesting areas. The female digs the nest by flapping her tail then drops some of the eggs. The male fights off others and fertilizes the eggs with a shower of milt. They then cover the eggs and proceed upstream to repeat the process until exhausted. Eventually, they die. Even in death, however, they serve a purpose as their rotting carcasses provide birds and other predators with a final feast before winter sets in.

Our stop at Swift Creek gave us a glimpse into the end of the life cycle of salmon. Just as the volunteer at the visitor center had said, there were several dead salmon lying in the gravel beds, but we did find one poor Chinook fighting valiantly as it tried to get past a particularly strong current in the shallow creek. It took the fish 20 minutes, but it finally made it to a patch of still water. Have to admire its tenacity considering how tired it must have been after its long, upstream struggle from the Pacific. I hope its efforts were not in vain.

After treading water for a bit, a desperate attempt to get past the current.

I have to admit that the next two hours to Clearwater were downright boring. We looked for a place with a view to have lunch, but had no luck. Finally, we settled for a picnic table at the Thunder River rest area. With no views to enjoy, we didn’t dally long over lunch. A good thing too! No sooner were we back on the road that we drove into a curtain of rain that was all the worse because of the driving wind. Having come this far, we pressed on, arriving at the Wells Gray Provincial Park (WGPP) visitor center around 2:15p. (Actually we gained an hour by crossing into BC, so it was only 1:15p by their clock!)

We see the only moose of our trip at the GWPP visitor center (wink)!

The helpful volunteer pointed out three must-see waterfalls as well as the location of the salmon run. When he said, “the salmon are jumping now,” it was all the encouragement we needed to tackle the 34-mile (57 km) drive to the designated spot.

By the time we arrived at Bailey’s Chute, the heavy rain was over and we had just a light drizzle to contend with. We put on our rain pants and rain jackets, wrapped our camera gear in plastic sleeves, and headed off on the 10-minute walk to the viewing platform.

Seeing the first salmon jump out of the frothing water, trying to go up past the cataract was reward enough for our efforts. That we saw them jumping in twos and threes was a bonus. Again, we had to admire the tenacity of the salmon in trying to make it back to their spawning grounds.

A triple-jump at Bailey's Chute.

It was amazing to see the salmon, which can weigh up to 44 lbs (~20 kg), clear the water in high arching jumps and literally fly through the air. Some of them somersaulted and lost momentum, others made it higher and further. We joined the crowd on the platform in cheering on the few salmon that looked like they were going to make it, but the driving current always won out and downstream they got washed. The nearby signage explained that few if any of them make it past this point. They are already drained from the effort it has taken to reach this spot; the final leap is simply too much. Eventually, the currents take them to gravel beds downstream where they start the life cycle of the next generation before they die.

Pictures can’t do justice to what we saw; click here for short clip from the video that Mui shot.

Having now accomplished our goal, we decided to make time for the waterfalls that the volunteer had marked on the map. The first one we stopped at was Helmcken Falls, named for a physician with the Hudson's Bay Company who helped bring BC into the Canadian Confederation. Ironically, he never saw the falls, but I sure am glad that we did. Created by the Murtle River plunging 463 feet (~141 m) over a cliff to the canyon floor below, Helmcken Falls is one of the most dramatic horsetail falls we’ve seen.

Helmcken Falls.

Dawson Falls, also on the Murtle River, was next. The first overlook gave us an excellent vantage point to see the entire span of the falls, which are affectionately known as “Little Niagara.” I couldn’t help but wish for blue skies to complete the perfect image, but we enjoyed Mother Nature’s raw power nonetheless.

Dawson Falls from the first overlook.

The second overlook took us to the rim of the falls where we saw the point at which the Murtle River tumbles over the ridge. Our best view of the falls, however, came from a wrong turn we took on the way to the rim. The narrow path through the trees took us to the edge of the water where we came face to face with the full force of the falls. We would have dallied here, but the ongoing drizzle and the late hour forced our hand and we left after a few minutes.

Our own special viewing platform at Dawson Falls.

As it turns out, we skipped the third waterfall on the list. With a four-hour drive still ahead of us, we simply did not have the additional hour that stop would have required. Leaving WGPP, we stopped at the local supermarket to pick up a couple of made-to-order sandwiches from the deli counter before getting back on the road to Jasper.

It was 7:45p and the light was failing, but we couldn’t resist making a 5-minute stop at the Raft River viewing platform on the way out of Clearwater to check out another salmon spawning area. Here, we were lucky enough to see quite a few salmon swimming in the calm creek — they had made it past all the hurdles to create life before dying.

We ate our sandwiches on the go, which enabled us to drive at least half the distance back to Jasper in some sort of daylight. With little traffic en route, we managed to make it back to the cabin before the witching hour.

Though the weather was less than perfect, with temperatures hovering in the 50-53F (10-12C) range and the off-and-on rain making for a dreary day, we enjoyed ourselves — even if our plans did take on a life of their own.

Next Up: Back to Edmonton

Canadian Rockies: Another Form of Water — Athabasca Falls

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Wednesday — September 2 / Part II

At 12:30p, we gave up our parking spot at Angel Glacier and drove back down pot-hole strewn Cavell Road. The road, which is usually open much later into the year, will be closing on September 8 for re-pavement. Good thing we came when we did. It sure would have been a shame to miss Angel Glacier.

Rather than drive back out to the Icefields Parkway to head south to our next destination, we stayed on Hwy 93A. En route, seeing a sign that read Meeting of the Waters, we pulled into a picnic area with a view of the confluence of the Whirlpool and Athabasca rivers. Nearby signage explained the importance of the Athabasca portage in the fur trade route that stretched from the St Lawrence River (later from the Hudson Bay) to the Pacific Ocean.

Photo op at “Meeting of the Waters”.

The very popular Athabasca Falls was crowded with mid-day sightseers. The headwaters, which originate in the Columbia Icefield, flow for about 42 miles (~70 km) before they tumble 80 feet (~24 m) down a narrow gorge here. It is the volume of water that squeezes through that makes these falls so impressive. Seeing the rush of water, it’s impossible not to respect the power of the Athabasca River to carve a new landscape out of age-old rocks.

Athabasca Falls — one of the most popular spots in Jasper National Park.

The falls from two different overlooks.

After wandering around to the various overlooks to view the falls and take our photographs, we found a picnic table alongside the Athabasca River. Away from the crowds visiting the falls, we had a quiet spot to rest for a bit. Later, we returned for a second round of the overlooks and then wandered down to explore the lower canyon.

Just think of the power water has that it can carve out a canyon like this one.

At the bottom of the canyon, the Athabasca River once again flows calmly on its way.

Our explorations took us along the riverbank, far from the crowds visiting the falls. It was quiet and peaceful — just like the river that was flowing next to us.

A photo op along the Athabasca River.

A glimpse of where the river flows out from the canyon.

A stroll along the Athabasca River before we bring our day of sightseeing to a close.

We were back at the cabin by 4:00p. The guests in the neighboring cabins were out seeing the sights, leaving us to enjoy a peaceful afternoon on the porch. The cooling breezes helped keep the air crystal clear, which added to our enjoyment of the day. As we read, blogged, and otherwise whiled away the hours, we were entertained by our resident “porch guard” running across the porch, feverishly preparing for winter. He obviously trusts us as he even buried a couple of pine cones in the ground next to our porch — I hope he can find them when the cold months set in.

Eventually, our stomachs reminded us that dinner time was at hand. Mui started a fire for one last barbecue dinner on the porch. On the menu — shrimp, pasta with veggies, and garlic bread.

Left: Mui whiles away an afternoon on the porch.
Right: One last barbecue dinner on the porch.

We even had a guest for dinner!

Mr. Chippie brings his own dinner and joins us on the porch.

And so another day of our vacation draws to an end. As Mui put it earlier, today was a 9.9 on a scale of 10 — we’re deducting .1 because Angel Glacier did not cooperate and give us a spectacular calving to top things off (wink, wink). Time to take care of the chores before turning in. We plan to be off early again tomorrow!

Next Up: Quest for Salmon in British Columbia

Canadian Rockies: One Form of Water — Angel Glacier

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Wednesday — September 2 / Part I

What a difference a storm makes! We had the best day of our trip today — partly because the air was crystal clear with no evidence of smoke-haze. Of course, that wasn’t apparent when we left the cabin at 7:00a — it was still dark then. But the difference was evident once the sun came up. Even now, blogging on the porch in the early evening, the view is the clearest it has been since we arrived 6 days ago. Hard to believe we have only one full day left before we head back to Edmonton. But I’m not going to think about that now.

When we left the cabin this morning, it was 53F (12C) — the warmest morning temperature since our arrival. That did not last long. By the time we were at the Path of the Glacier/Cavell Meadows parking lot, the temperature was down to 46F (8C). It got progressively colder as we made our way over to the lake at the foot of Angel Glacier. Bundled up in layers, we didn’t mind the nip in the air.

Our initial plan was to hike the 7.5-mile (12 km) Cavell Meadows loop. Several things contributed to the change of plans. One — we knew the wildflowers were past their peak. Two — we lost all sense of time as we played around the lake and scrambled over the lateral moraine. Believe me — no regrets! We’re totally happy with the four fantastic hours we spent doing what we did. And to top it off — for two of those four hours, we were virtually the only ones there. Yes, there was one other couple, but our paths never crossed. By the time the crowds started to show up around 10:00a, we were atop the lateral moraine. I’m surprised no one joined us up there, but hey — we’re not complaining.

The red line is the paved path; the green line is the path we created for ourselves by scrambling up and along the lateral moraine.

The paved path to the glacier offered a slightly elevated view of our surroundings. Each shift of the path laid before our eyes an increasingly better view of the scenery until we finally came face to face with total grandeur at the edge of the lake.

From this ...

… to this.
(Edith Cavell glacier is at the edge of the lake; Angel Glacier is hanging from the face of the mountain)

I've read that rising a vertical mile from the valley floor, Mount Edith Cavell is very impressive just on its own merits. We didn’t get to see the entire mountain, however, as the top was covered by clouds. The mountain was named for a British nurse who refused to leave her post when Brussels fell to the Germans in WWI. She cared for the wounded on both sides and helped more than 200 allied soldiers to escape before she was charged with espionage and executed by a firing squad in 1915.

Now take an impressive mountain and decorate it with glaciers — Angel and Edith Cavell being the most spectacular ones — and you have a real “wow” view. We were enthralled; we were speechless.

Have to take advantage of this spectacular setting for a photo op.

We played at the edge of the lake, photographing the scenery from every angle; we climbed on top of rocks, we stretched out on the ground to find the best vantage points. With each change in the light, we were prompted to take more pictures. More and more with each passing minute. (I won’t bore you by posting them all — wink!)

We photographed Angel Glacier — the waterfall streaming from its terminus proof that it was melting before our eyes; we photographed Edith Cavell Glacier — being eaten away less visibly by the comparatively warmer water lapping at its terminus; we photographed the milky-green lake and the bergy-bits that showed a hint of blue; we photographed the spectacular reflections. Sitting in awe of the scenery and the tranquility, we enjoyed Mother Nature’s handiwork.

I’m told Angel Glacier looked even more like one before it receded so much.

Edith Cavell Glacier — covered in dirt, but no less impressive.

When it was quiet, it was totally quiet — not a peep, not a sound; we spoke in hushed tones in the cathedral of nature. In the absence of noise, a breeze off the glacier brought with it the sound of the waterfall streaming down from Angel Glacier; we heard the bergy-bits gently hitting each other, a wave lapping the shore. After a while the glaciers started to speak — we listened to the pop-crackle-and-snap, hoping for a calving. Then, with a loud crack, the ice let loose — but it was hidden from view by a ridge on the face of the mountain — got the resulting puff of white cloud as proof, though!

Reflections — double the scenery; double the pleasure.

After a couple of hours in the midst of the fantastic scenery, we started thinking about leaving. We were getting hungry and our snacks were in the car — after all, this was supposed to have been an introduction to Angel Glacier before we geared up for our hike to the meadows. We just couldn’t make ourselves go back the way we came. Instead, giving mountain goats a run for their money, we clambered up the boulders — big and small — that make up the lateral moraine, gaining enough elevation for stunning views of the glacier and the lake.

Can you see any of the people way down there?

My photo op from the ridge of the moraine and a closer look at Angel Glacier’s main body of ice.

The bonus of our rock scramble was three hoary marmots. What are those you ask? They’re ground squirrels — the largest to be found in North America (weigh about 17-20 pounds [7-10 kg] and average about 20 inches [~½ m] in length). The “hoary” part of their name refers to the silver-grey fur on their shoulders and upper back. They are sometimes called “whistlers” as they are known to emit a shrill warning to alert other colony members. In fact, had it not been for that high-pitched shriek, we might have missed the first close encounter.

A hoary marmot and a scenic background. Could we have asked for more?

The marmot was alone. We’d been tracking him on the trail below the moraine, but had lost sight of him after a while. We’d already turned around to continue scrambling over the rocks when the shrill whistle had us looking around for the source of the sound. There he was, calm as you please, perched on a boulder, not caring a whit that we were about 10 yards (~10 m) from him. Almost immediately, he was off his perch. We thought we had lost him … but no, he was simply moving in closer to sit rock-still on the boulder next to me.

After a while, we moved on to climb further up the moraine ridge. As we traversed the rocks to a vantage point across from the glacier, we came across two more marmots — a female with her young. Again, they stood still for us, posing until we had our fill and decided to move on to our best vantage point for the scenery.

Left: Hoary marmot #1 poses for his portrait.
Right: Mum with her young.

We spent quite a bit of time at this spot with a head-on view of the glacier. Somehow our elevated position made it seem like we were closer to Angel Glacier; like we could touch it. It was an illusion.

I’ll let the scenery speak for itself.

We found it very difficult to pull ourselves away, but eventually we did. Finding a spot where the lateral moraine trailed off to merge with the Cavell Meadows path, we made our way down. Then, it was a slow walk back to the parking lot. What a difference from when we were the only car in the lot. Now, cars were going round and round, waiting for a spot to open up. We weren’t quite ready to give up ours.

Grabbing our sandwiches from the car, we found a boulder in sight of Angel Glacier and set about quieting our growling stomachs. We were the envy of passersby who couldn’t help comment that they wished they had thought to bring a picnic lunch. Clear blue skies, temps that had warmed to a comfortable 63F (17C), and spectacular scenery — they were right, we had it made.

Next Up: Another Form of Water — Athabasca Falls

Canadian Rockies: A Cruise to Spirit Island

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Tuesday — September 1 / Part II

One thing I’ve been meaning to mention … NO BUGS! By that I mean that we’ve been able to sit on the porch and hike through forests and along lakes without dousing ourselves in bug repellent. That was certainly not the case when we visited Banff in July 2007. On that trip we couldn’t step outside without protection. Of course, it is later in the year and the cold nighttime and morning temperatures probably have something to do with the lack of bugs. Whatever the reason, it’s been a pleasure not to have to deal with pesky mosquitoes and flies.

Back to our day …

On the way to Maligne Lake, we made a quick stop at Medicine Lake. Though light conditions were less than optimum, we wanted to take a couple of photographs of this lake that disappears in the winter.

Medicine Lake was so named by the aboriginal people for its seemingly magical powers.

Here’s how the Parks Canada website explains the phenomena:

During the summer, glacier melt waters flood the lake, sometimes overflowing it. In fall and winter the lake disappears, becoming a mudflat with scattered pools of water connected by a stream. But there is no visible channel draining the lake – so where then does the water go?

The answer is, "out the bottom", like a bathtub without a plug. The Maligne River pours into the lake from the south and drains out through sinkholes in the bottom. The water then streams through a cave system formed in the slightly soluble limestone rock, surfacing again in the area of Maligne Canyon 16 kilometers downstream. This is one of the largest known sinking rivers in the Western Hemisphere and may be the largest inaccessible cave system anywhere in the world!

Summer melt water coming into the lake exceeds the capacity of the sinkholes to drain it. Decreased melt water in the late summer and fall means that the lake's sinkholes can drain the lake faster than the Maligne River can fill it. This creates the disappearing lake phenomena. Aboriginal peoples called the lake Medicine because of its seemingly magical powers, and the United Nations created the Rocky Mountain Parks World Heritage Site partly because of this unique drainage system.

In fact, on the far side of the lake, this drainage was in full evidence — the mud flats left behind were crisscrossed with the tracks of the woodland caribou that range in the area. Unfortunately, the animals themselves were nowhere to be found.

On the far end, Medicine Lake is little more than a mud flat.

That’s not to say that we did not see any wildlife. Just a short distance down the lake’s shore, a small herd of bighorn sheep were parading down the center of the road. I’m still kicking myself for not photographing the “bighorn jam” — cars were parked helter-skelter in both lanes of the road to photograph the sheep. The drivers had made no attempt whatsoever to pull off to the side. As Mui slowly inched the car forward to get around the jam, the herd crossed to the dirt shoulder on my side and I was able to photograph them through the rolled-down window as they paraded past the car.

Bighorn Sheep Parade at Medicine Lake

A little further down the road, I saw a patch of scenery and a sign that read Rosemary’s Rock flash by. When I commented that it looked like a beautiful spot, Mui flipped a "u-ey" and returned to the nearby parking lot. Often unexpected finds turn out to be a gem — this one was no exception.

Looking upriver towards Rosemary's Rock.

Mui followed a path through the trees and I followed a less-defined one along the banks of the Maligne River. We ended up at the same spot overlooking the rock. Had there been a good place to eat our lunch here, we would have done so. But we didn’t have too much time to explore and find one, so we made do with a quick photo op.

Rosemary's Rock is the one on the left.

(After we returned home, I found a few references to the immense boulder that sits in the riverbed. Fact or fiction? Take your pick. One story goes that when she was filming the “River of No Return” in the 1950s, Marilyn Monroe climbed on top of this rock. So why wasn’t the rock named for Marilyn? I don’t know, but at a later date, Rosemary Clooney (yes, George’s aunt) also climbed the rock and she was chosen to be the namesake. Another story has the rock being featured in a movie called “Rose Marie,” starring Howard Keel.)

It was nearing 2:00p when we finally arrived at Maligne Lake. Having booked the last cruise of the day at 4:00p, we had plenty of time on our hands. We found a picnic table overlooking Home Bay and enjoyed a late lunch before heading up to the office to exchange our receipt for a ticket.

Left: Our view from the lakeside picnic table.
Right: Mui joins forces (and hands) with a Mountie!

Afterwards, we walked along the shore and took in the scenery. Rimmed with mountains, the landscape was simply beautiful. Noting the haze in the air, I couldn’t help but be glad that we had canceled our plans for the Bald Hills hike and opted for the cruise instead. This way, we were below the haze instead of looking down through it.

Beautiful, awe-inspiring scenery at Maligne Lake.

One of those boats will take us out to Spirit Island.

The lake was created when a landslide off the surrounding Opal Hills released millions of cubic yards of material into the lower valley. The natural dam that was formed caused the water to backup and form the present lake, which was known to the Stoney Indians by the name of “Chaba Imne” or Beaver Lake. The first white man to see the lake, a railroad surveyor named Henry McLeod, renamed it “Sore Foot Lake” — perhaps an indication of how he was feeling at the time. It wasn’t until Mary Schaffer, an explorer of the region and local icon, came along in 1908, saw the lake, and wrote about it in her journal that the lake became a tourist attraction. In her words:

“…there burst upon us that which, all in our little company agreed, was the finest view any of us had ever beheld in the Rockies. Those miles and miles of lake, the unnamed peaks rising above us, one following the other, each more beautiful than the last. We had reached the narrows of which Samson had told us. …we could have looked ahead and aloft and said, ‘This is Paradise.’”

If not paradise, then darn close to it.

The boat that took us on our 90-minute lake cruise was named — you guessed it — Mary Schaffer. From Home Bay, we cruised 8 miles (~14 km) to the turnaround point, Spirit Island. Past this point, no motorboats are allowed to traverse the remaining 13-mile (~22 km) length of the lake — only canoes and kayaks.

Map of Maligne Lake
(courtesy of the Parks Canada website)

The cruise — a bit expensive considering its short length — was worth every penny to us as it was the only way we knew we would be able to see Spirit Island. The boat pretty much hugged the shoreline and we were able to get crystal clear views of the mountains and hanging glaciers on the port side. The opposite shore, with the sun still high in the sky, didn’t have the best light conditions, but so be it. The 40-passenger boat was at half-capacity and few took advantage of the small back deck. It was great to be motoring on the lake with the cool breeze ruffling our hair and the scenery providing a feast for our eyes.

On our way to Spirit Island aboard the Mary Schaffer.

We enjoy the small back deck of the boat.

We whiz by beautiful scenery.

We had a mere 10 minutes on Spirit Island, which isn’t an island really; it’s a peninsula. And in reality, you don’t step on the peninsula itself, but view it from a nearby path and slightly elevated walkway.

Spirit Island is said to be the second most photographed place in the Canadian Rockies.

A “Mui was at Spirit Island” photo op.

Despite the restrictions, we enjoyed our time here. Instead of following the pack up the stairs to the walkway, we made a beeline for the shoreline path where we enjoyed a quiet, and in a way, a spiritual time drinking in the scenery. By the time our boat mates made their way down to our spot, we were ready to go up for a look at Spirit Island from a different vantage point.

Spirit Island from two different vantage points.

We were back on shore around 5:30p. Not yet ready to say goodbye to Maligne Lake, we got some snacks from the car and sat down to enjoy them in view of the spectacular lake scenery in total solitude. It was like someone had pulled the plug and the crowds had drained out. Total tranquility! One last walk up to the shoreline overlook; one last photo op … and we said farewell to everything named Maligne.

A farewell photo op at Maligne Lake.

We arrived at the cabin around 7:30p, tired from our long day but completely satisfied with the outcome. Dinner consisted of pizza and a cold Canadian brew, which we enjoyed on the porch with only our personal porch guard to keep us company.

Ooops! Just lost power, so I have to wrap up this post. The rain is falling in earnest now; the lightning and thunder are still very much in evidence. I love listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops in the dark … it’s the perfect lullaby.

Next Up: One Form of Water — Angel Glacier