Falling In Love

There are these rare days when every thing seems sublime.  Today is one.  We break camp in Jasper and head to Lake Maligne, with the intention of taking a short loop hike.  Matthias is always looking for art in nature, so this rock he finds on the shore gives Hilda and me photographic inspiration.  

The lake captivates us from the start with the boat house and canoes.  

The loop trail was designed for folks arriving in tour buses for a 30 minute stop.  We turn off that busy trail and head into the forest along the lake front and now have it all to ourselves.

The forest rewards us with soft colors and elfin habitats.

Far out on the lake small cruise boats take visitors for a spin.  Our entertainment is the Harlequin ducks bobbing under water for treats.  We eat our lunch lakeside on a grey log and bat away hamless gnats.  Civilization has its perks as we appreciate when we stop at the popular cafe near the boathouse and have coffee and pastries with a splendid view from the deck.

Hildegard plans our stops, so next we visit Maligne Falls, which really must be seen to be believed.

  Water has carved deep slot canyons and whorled pot holes. The series of falls cascade to dizzying depths.  The picture above was taken looking 50 feet straight down from a bridge.

Though we want to get 103K south of Jasper by evening, Hildegard proposes a final stop at Athabasca Falls. These dramatic wider falls also drop and swirl through a maze of slot canyons.  Sadly, there are two memorial benches commemorating the deaths 10 years apart of two young men in their early twenties who defied barriers and warning and slipped to their deaths over the falls.

Back on the road, The free-wheeling back seat drivers decide to have a beer, but the front seat drivers stay focused on their tasks of driving and navigating.

We make it to Wilcox Campground in view of the Athabasca Glacier and surrounded by the snow covered peaks of the Columbia Icefield.  Matthias, our axe man, builds us a roaring fire.

Though it is in the high thirties, we are determined to dine by our fire and with our unobstructed view of Mt. Athabasca. 

The sky darkens slowly.  At 10 pm there are just a few stars visible.  Perhaps it is the wine or bananas Matthias roasts over the coals and drenches with Danish vodka, but I get the idea to roast our stash of red potatoes In the red hot coals so we can have them for breakfast.  About 11 pm we are gobbling tender charred potatoes with butter and fiendishly eating our second supper in the cold dark.  Has any food ever tasted this good?  The end of the perfect day.