46 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[JtLT 20, 1895, 



NORTHWARD TO THE FAR WEST.— III. 



[Continued from page 



"We are now up 3,388ft. and keep climbing fast in the 

 next sixty miles. It is hardly daylight when we reach 

 Kananaskis, 4,100ft, up; but as we are anxious to see the 

 beauties of the approach to the Rockies, some of the party 

 have arisen. 



We cross the Kananaskis River on a high iron bridge 

 and a little beyond the station enter what is called the 

 Gap. The Bow River comes rushing forth from the 

 mountains above and passes out into the plains through 

 this Gateway. As we turn to the north the Fairholme 

 range is to the right, while on our left stretch the 

 Kananaskis range, two very prominent and beautiful 

 mountains, Wind Mountain and the Three Sisters, the 

 last being one of the most "numerously" photographed of 

 any in the section. At Canmore during the summer an 

 open observation car is added to the train and one has a 

 fine and unobstructed view of the grand scenery. It is 

 only fifteen miles from Canmore to Banff, but we climb 

 270ft. The ride is one to be remembered. Great and 

 rugged masses of rock rise on each side of us until their 

 summits seem to pierce the cloud-covered sky. The 

 scientist claims these mountains are upheavals of the 

 Devonian and Carboniferous ages. The average tourist 

 don't know, or care, in what age the great upheaval took 

 place, but he does know that 4he result is some of the 

 most weird, rugged, and entrancing effects ever seen in 

 mountain scenery. 



The grade is steep and it takes nearly an hour to run 

 from Canmore to Banff, with but short stops at Duthie 

 and Anthracite, at which place are located the coal mines. 

 We are circled on every side by high, rough, ragged and 

 snow-capped peaks. The mountains in this part of the 

 Rockies are of the most rugged and rocky description. 

 There is nothing in their outlines but that which suggests 

 the wild, the terrible and the grand work of old "nature." 



As we near Banff we seem to enter a cul-de-sac, from 

 which there is no escape. To our right, rising nearly 

 precipitously from the narrow valley, with its sharp and 

 snow-capped crest, encircled with the flying fleecy clouds, 

 9,796fi. high, we gaze upon Cascade Mountain backed by 

 Stony Squaw, which, while only 6,130ft. high, does not 

 seem to lose prestige even in comparison. Fronting us 

 is Sulphur Mountain with its steep sides covered with the 

 dark green pine, fir and other mountain growth; 7,455ft. 

 we would be, if on its highest point, above the sea. 



To our left is Tunnel Mountain with its rounded top 

 only 5,510ft. in the clouds, and then comes Rundle, or, as 

 ocally known, "Razor Back," which is one of the most 

 mpressiveand forbidding of all the group, with its jagged 

 nd sharp outline marked so distinctly against the morn- 

 ng sky and thrusting its highest peak 8,637ft. toward the 

 blue dome of heaven. 



We were very glad to get up to the Sanitarium, as the 

 morning air was cold and one always feels the chill in the 

 morning. 



Banff is "the Mecca" of the patriotic Canadian, as it is 

 the headquarters for their national park, and it is a 

 natural sanitarium. As a natural park it of course is not 

 o be compared with that we of the States boast of, as 

 n that we easily lead the world; but as a pleasure resort, 

 with some natural curiosities, some good sulphur (hot) 

 springs, the finest kind of mountain scenery, some excel- 

 lent trout fishing, and a place to have a general good 

 time, it is hard to beat. 



The size of the park is twenty-six miles by ten wide, 

 and embraces parts of the valleys of the Bow, Spray and 

 Cascade rivers, and "Devils" or Minnewanka Lake. 



Banff is not much of a town, as it exists on the tourist 

 and health-seeker's patronage. The altitude is 4,500ft. at 

 the station and most of the valley would average about 

 that— a very good altitude for a mountain resort, high 

 enough, but not too high, for numbers of invalids who 

 cannot go up where the air is too rarified. There are 

 three hotels: first, the "C. P. R.," as it is called, built by 

 the Canadian Pacific road to care for its tourist travel, and 

 only open during the summer months. 



We do not all think alike, but our humble opinion is 

 that the architect of this fine hotel nearly spoiled a good 

 thing by placing the front of the hotel where the rear 

 should be, and it is only because the situation is so grand 

 that this mistake is not more of a mistake. Wright's, or 

 the Mountain View House, is way up on Sulphur Moun- 

 tain, 5,000ft. high, and is near the springs that boil out of 

 the mountain. 



Most centrally located and most accessible is the Sani- 

 tarium. The location is fine, but not as fine as the C. P. 

 R. in regard to scenery, as this part of the valley is not as 

 pretty; still, one can feel pretty well satisfied when look- 

 ing out of the windows or gazing from off the verandas 

 at the beautiful vista before him. The Madame, to whom 

 the mountains of the West were new and a revelation, 

 went into ecstacies over the grand view from our window. 

 And it was grand! A little fall of snow had capped the 

 mountain with white, and great storm clouds were rolling 

 over the tops and now and then obscuring them. Some 

 cloud more heavily laden with moisture than its fellows 

 would roll majestically down over Cascade's side, and 

 then the sun would burst forth and gild the high peaks 

 with a golden light, causing the pure white snow to 

 shimmer and glisten like molten silver in a golden set- 

 ting. 



After breakfast we took a long walk and visited the 

 pool and cave. The latter is quite a curiosity, and the 

 natural warm bath in it is well patronized. The light in 

 the cave is very dim, and lamps have to be used passing 

 through the tunnel leading to it. The outside pool is for 

 swimming baths, and parties of gentlemen have great 

 sport in the warm water fresh from nature's fountain. 



There is so much to see at Banff, if one's time is lim- 

 ited, that we had to be on the go; so in the afternoon our 

 party hired a guide and team and started for Devil's 

 Lake. 



The drive was a lovely one, as we had an open wag- 

 onet, and could gaze on the hills and streams to our hearts' 

 content. 



The road was fine, as are all the drives in the park, and 

 we bounded merrily along. Some of the party were stu- 

 dents from the Chicago University and the usual Chicago 

 spirit was not wanting, and the echoes of the old Rockies 

 were awakened by college yells and songs. 



Part way to the lake we crossed a little bridge over a 

 deep canon, at the bottom of which flowed a struggling 

 torrent, the outlet of Minnewanka. It is called the 

 Devils Canon. 



The road took us over high hills with the mountains to 

 the right of us, mountains to the left of us, mountains 

 behind and in front of us; now crossing some little val- 

 ley and anon climbing along the steep hillside with the 

 brawling stream far below us, in a chasm deep and dark, 

 with its sides covered with green brush and straggling 

 pines. As we near the lake we go over a small rise or 

 hill, and then the lake in all its beauty, with its mighty 

 mountain sentinels, bursts forth on our vision. 



The sheet of water spread before our view was like a 

 plate of polished glass, and not a ripple broke the surface 

 of its silvery sheen. A little propeller, or more properly 

 a steam launch, is kept on the lake, with a number of 

 row boats, for the use of tourists and fishing parties. 

 The fishing is all deep trolling for what is called locally 

 lake trout, and at the proper season large catches are 

 made. We soon made arrangements for a sail over the 

 calm waters, and our little launch went puffing up the 

 lake. The scene was one of the most beautiful and 

 charming that the writer ever saw. The huge rocks of 

 the mountains were reflected in the bosom of the placid 

 lake as if in a huge mirror, and every tree, bush, rock or 

 silvery stream descending from the melting snow was 

 duplicated, so that we did not know which was the most 

 beautiful to look at, the original or the reflection. 



Castle Rock and Gibraltar Point look down upon us as 

 we speed along, and far up the side of rugged Gibraltar 

 a deep and rocky canon is filled with a foaming, rushing 

 silvery looking stream, that as it descends becomes almost 

 spray before it reaches the lower level from the dizzy 

 heights above. We had not the time to thoroughly enjoy 

 the lake, as one should make arrangements to go and 

 stay at the hotel there for a day or two. The hotel at the 

 lake is not pretentious, but fair accommodations can be 

 had. 



The next day the Madame thought she would like to 

 get up a little higher than she bad been, and so the desire 

 must be gratified, and off we went behind a fine old gray 

 mare from the hotel stable, warranted to be both sound 

 and able. 



Winding about through the jack pines the road leads 

 up toward the C. P. Hotel and then turns to the right 

 and begins to climb Sulphur Mountain— up, up we went, 

 ■winding back and forth to make the grade more easily. 

 As we climbed upward we were treated with an occa- 

 sional glimpse through the dark trees of charming views 

 down in the valley below, but it was not until we had 

 breasted the last steep pitch and drove up in front of the 

 Grand View Hotel that we could gaze our fill upon the 

 wonderful and beatiful vista stretched out before us like 

 a picture, but more beautiful than any picture fashioned 

 by human hands. Standing upon the platform built out 

 over the steep mountain side — so steep that we looked 

 over the tree tops only just below us — we gazed down lit- 

 erally into the Valley of the Bow, There before us was 

 a combination of forest-clad slopes, rocky ranges with 

 snow-capped peaks, swift-flowing rivers and streams, 

 grassy valleys and rocky canons; truly all that serves to 

 make scenery in the mountains beyond compai-e. 



The flowing Sulphur Springs were at our feet and the 

 earth and rocks were dyed yellow with the overflow. The 

 roadway was so sharply steep in its descent for a little 

 way the Madame concluded she would walk down the 

 stairs which led down to the road below and let the rest 

 of the family risk his precious neck driving down; but the 

 old mare was steady and we soon were bowling down the 

 fine roadway much more rapidly than we came up, 



Banff was charming and the Madame kept the outfit so 

 busy sight-seeing that the sporting portion of it had not 

 been able to go fishing, but one afternoon a compromise 

 was effected, the rod was taken out and we wended our 

 way down below the C. P. Hotel to some rocks that over- 

 hung deep pools, and while Madame sat under the trees 

 and listened to the murmur of the running waters the 

 fisherman cast the seductive hopper or attractive fly in 

 the river below. 



Quite good sport was had, but the best of the season was 

 past, and to get really good fishing at Banff one must go 

 about nine miles by boat from the hotels. It is not to be 

 expected that good fishing can be found where it is so ac- 

 cessible that every man, woman or child that takes a 

 notion to catch a trout can go to the spot in twenty min- 

 utes from the hotel. July and August are the months for 

 the best sport. 



Had we not known that new glories awaited us toward 

 the Betting sun, we would have been content to linger 

 longer at Banff, for it is a beautiful spot, and he must be 

 dead to nature's charms indeed who can visit it and not 

 wish to remain, or wish to visit it in the near future 

 again. 



Before we took leave of this charming resort we had a 

 fine canoe ride up the Echo River into Vermilion Lakes, 

 and rode round the "Loops," a lovely drive down the 

 valley of the Bow. 



A carriage road or bridle trail takes one up Tunnel 

 Mountain, or a good walker and fair climber can easily go 

 up. The views from the different points where the road 

 winds about the mountain are charming. As a mountain 

 resort which combines so many attractions Banff has few 

 equals. 



The air was chill and the sun not up as we took the 

 train from Banff on the morning of our departure west, 

 but we put on our heavy wraps and braved the cold of the 

 observation car, for we did not want to miss the climb up 

 to Stephen, the summit of the Rockies. We follow up 

 the Valley of the Bow and pass the Vermilion Lakes, 

 which we had visited. 



Rocky peaks are all about us and we gaz9 with won- 

 der and awe upon the mighty monuments that nature has 

 reared. Castle, Pilot, Copper mountains and Mount 

 Temple are all admired in turn, and Mount Lefroy then 

 claims our attention, and calls forth words of astonish- 

 ment and admiration as we catch sight of its grand pro- 

 portions. 



At Laggan, thirty-four miles from Banff, those who 

 wish to visit Lakes Louise and Agnes, called, with Mirror 

 Lake, "the Lakes in the Clouds," can stop off and do so. 

 The best plan is not to follow the instructions given in 

 some guide books and go to Banff and return the same 

 day, but go to Laggan and up to the mountain chalet and 

 stay a day and a night, as the trip then will be more en- 

 durable for ladies. Arrangements can then be made to 

 go on westward. 



It is only seven miles from Laggan to Stephen, but we 

 climb 366ft. , which is a pretty good;grade, but nothing to 

 the drop we take on the opposite side. We are now at 

 an altitude of 5,296ft. and at the highest point the line 

 reaches in the Rockies and also the highest point on the 

 Canadian Pacific. This is a very low paBS when com- 

 pared with many on the transcontinental lines which 

 run south of us, but the grandeur of the scenery does not 

 suffer in comparison as one goes north. For ten miles 

 now the admirer of the grand and sublime in nature has 

 a treat, — the descent is rapid, as we seem to drop 

 right down 1,246ft. in the ten miles. 



Steam is shut off on the engine and brakes applied, but 

 still our train rushes down, the wheels groaning and 

 shrieking at being held in the iron grasp of the brake-3hoe. 

 We pass Hector and the pretty little Wapeta Lake and 

 cross the Kicking Horse River, so far below us in the 

 terrible gorge. The curves in the road are so steep that 

 we can look into the engine and cars ahead one moment, 

 while at the next they are hidden from sight behind 

 some massive rock which juts out to dispute our passage, 

 and as we whirl round it we look down into the depths 

 of the great canon below, on the edge of which we seem 

 to be hanging twixt heaven and earth. We catch 

 glimpses of the shining river through the green tree tops 

 a thousand feet below us, and gazing upward from the 

 open observation car we see snow and ice-capped peaks 

 of great mountains, which seem to have opened to let us 

 poor weak mortals pass on our way, until we feel like 

 poor King Lear ready to exclaim. 



•Til look no more, 

 Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight 

 Topple down headlong." 



And yet the fascination is so great that the ladies, 

 though they shudder and utter little feminine shrieks of 

 fear as the train gives some sudden lurch and they gaze 

 down some extra precipitous rock into the cafion below, 

 cannot be tempted to leave the side of the car, but cling 

 more firmly to the iron bars and look again. 



We plunge into a short tunnel, and for a moment, 

 which we begrudge, lose sight of the mountains, then 

 into the light again and round the mountain's base, and 

 the great peak of Mt. Stephen is before us, 

 "Fronting heaven's splendor, 

 Strong and full and clear." 



The time is all too short to enjoy thoroughly all there 

 is to see, and yet when we arrive at Field we are glad to 

 be there, for the early rising, the mountain air and ex- 

 citement has given us sharp appetites. Even Madame, 

 whose a>3thetic soul was only a brief period before feast- 

 ing on the sublime and beautiful, and who would have 

 scorned the allegation that she was hungry or that her 

 baser nature needed something more satisfying than 

 grand and beautiful scenery, could not help purring out 

 that ' 'the tenderloin steak was delicious, the trout too 

 sweet for anything, the coffee and cream awfully nice 

 and the hot cakes just lovely." 



Field is not a town nor even a village, it is chiefly 

 mountains and incidently a very pretty, neat and well- 

 kept hotel is there. Here is a spot where one can sit and 

 gaze their fill upon Mt. Field, Mt. Stephen and variotis 

 other mountains which make up the Otter Tail and Van 

 Horn ranges. Lake Emerald lies near by, a charming 

 little mountain lakelet filled it is said, with trout, that 

 we won't vouch for. 



A day or two at Field would not be lost in one's life's 

 calendar, and a hardy climber could climb his climb 

 without going very far. There was a time in the early 

 history of the road when white goats were plenty here- 

 abouts, but white goats, like most other wild animals, 

 don't like tourists, so they have hunted themselves a new 

 resort or maybe have been hunted to one. Therefore, if 

 one wants a white goat they had better go a "leetle" fur- 

 ther west — that is, unless they want one a great deal more 

 than the writer. 



We all enter the observation car with a kindly feeling 

 toward Field, and off we go plunging down again into the 

 valley of the Wapeta (literally, rushing water). The ride 

 continues to be very exciting, and new beauties of this 

 wonderful cafion are discovered every moment. Twenty- 

 one miles below Field we reach Palliser, 800ft. down, and 

 just beyond we pass through the most beautiful and 

 grand portion of the cafion we have seen. 



The walls of the cafion draw near together and become 

 nearly vertical, the rocks are seermngly unpassable, and 

 the curves and turns which we make to escape them seem 

 shorter and more daring than those above. The roaring 

 of the river, the grinding of the wheels, the snorting of 

 the engine, the roar of the escaping steam of the train, 

 prevents conversation, and all we can do is to bang on 

 and look. The camera is "shot off" out of the windows, 

 or side of the car where they ought to be, and we tried to 

 catch the fleeting beauties of the scene for our friends at 

 home. 



But here we are, too soon, at Golden— only thirty -four 

 miles from Field and 1,500ft. below. Before us is the 

 mighty Columbia, which here is flowing northward. 



It is our first sight of the great river, but we become 

 well acquainted , of which more anon. At Golden one can 

 stop off and t ake a side trip up the Columbia a hundred 

 miles to the lake, and this seems incongruous, as the "up" 

 is to the south. The steamer only made weekly trips, and 

 we did not have time to go everywhere; but if one is not 

 hurried, it would be interesting to go to the source of one 

 of our mightiest rivers, which has its birthplace in such a 

 magnificent country. 



For a short time now we follow the Columbia and our 

 steel pathway is almost level. The great Selkirk range is 

 before us, however, and as we gaze on its dark, somber, 

 forest-clad sides and up to the snow and ice-capped peaks 

 we see we are not through climbing yet. Donald, where 

 we change our iron horse for one freshly groomed, is soon 

 reached, and then we cross the Columbia and get nearer 

 the Selkirks. But we have not said farewell to the Rock- 

 ies, and at Beaver Mouth there seems to be a conspiracy 

 between the two mighty ranges to bar our way; but we 

 follow the mighty, resistless mountain flood which breaks 

 through a narrow gorge, and turn to the left, forsaking 

 our friend the Columbia, but finding a new one in the 

 Beaver River, and taking advantage of the gateway it has 

 cut for itself through the Selkirk's giants on its way to add 

 its volume to its mightier brother, we enter the Selkirk 

 range. 



The Beaver here is crowded so hard by the rocky bar- 

 riers on either side that a tree felled across it serves' for a 

 foot bridge. 



