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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 WGPP 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
