458 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Oct. 12, 1912 
In Camp with the Alpine Club of Canada 
By MARGARET STOVEL McWILLIAMS 
S EARCHING for something novel for our 
summer vacation, we heard of the Alpine 
Club of Canada. We had heard of Alpine 
clubs before; we had read of the wonderful ex¬ 
ploits of their members; we had even gazed en¬ 
viously at other peoples’ invitations to their ex¬ 
clusive dinners; but never had we thought of 
belonging to such a club till fate threw across 
our path a year book of the Canadian club. 
Then we found that the veriest tenderfoot 
in the art of mountaineering, if he had a desire 
to climb, was welcomed to the probationary rank 
of “graduating member.” Once in that rank, he 
might attend two camps, and there with the as¬ 
sistance of the club, qualify himself for active 
membership. To us dwellers on the prairies that 
qualification sounded exacting—the ascent of a 
glacier-hung peak reaching at least 2,500 feet 
above the timber line which in the Rockies 
means over 10,000 feet. But the searcher after 
novelty must be ready for a venture, so we took 
the plunge. 
When word came that we were accepted as 
probationers, there was a feverish search for 
clothes, for one does not go Alpining in even 
ordinary camp costume. Knickerbockers — no 
bloomers allowed—flannel shirts, sweaters, heavy 
tweed coats, the whole capped at one end by 
rakish wide-brimmed felt hats and completed at 
the other by numerous pairs of socks covered 
by puttees and boots which, though they were 
of the heaviest winter variety and shod with 
two score nails, were scarcely heavy enough for 
the strain they had to endure, made up costumes 
which differed for men and women chiefly in 
size. When actually in camp, the women of the 
party wore over their knickerbockers short ser¬ 
viceable tweed skirts. To the costumes had to 
be added blankets and all the clothing and equip¬ 
ment necessary for ten days at an altitude where 
midsummer frosts are frequent—the whole to be 
crammed into a dunnage bag which must not, 
when filled, weigh more than forty pounds. It 
required some ingenuity as well as a careful fol¬ 
lowing of the club’s instructions to get what 
seemed absolute necessities down to that weight 
imposed by the club for the advancement of the 
simple life. 
Thus equipped, we landed at Castle station 
on the last day of July. Castle is a small way 
station on the Canadian Pacific railway just half 
way between the well-known resorts of Banff 
and Laggan. Near the station the old Indian 
trail from the plains crosses the railway line, 
and winds its way up the valley of the Little 
Vermillion Creek, over Palliser’s Vermillion Pass 
and down the Vermillion River to the ochre beds 
whence came the war paint. Eight miles to the 
south on that trail, just over the summit of the 
pass, was the site of the camp. That eight-mile 
mountain trail was the introduction to what our 
friends—now we are safely home—call the hard¬ 
ships of our holidays. For, according to camp 
tradition, almost everybody — and certainly all 
tenderfeet—must tramp it. With stout hearts 
we set out—scores of us—for in all 168 people 
were in camp this year, and between four and 
five hours later we arrived safely, our hearts 
still stout, but our bodies very weary, for a mile 
on a rocky, stumpy mountain trail bears not the 
slightest resemblance to a mile on city pave¬ 
ments, and even on those pavements we took 
few eight-mile tramps. 
The selection of a ground for these annual 
camps is not a simple matter. Each year some 
little known region of the Rockies or the Sel¬ 
kirks is visited. The camp must not only be 
on new ground where exploration is possible, 
but there must also be within reach some peaks 
which afford first ascents, or at least, difficult 
and interesting climbs for the experienced mem¬ 
bers as well as a not too terrifying peak of the 
required height for the qualifying climb of the 
tenderfeet. For quite obvious reasons the camp 
CAMP AT FOOT OF STONE MOUNTAIN. 
must also be where there is fairly level ground 
and good water, and where the packing in of 
baggage and provisions is not too costly or too 
difficult. All this, however, A. O. Wheeler, the 
noted Canadian mountaineer and topographer 
and the club’s director, has been able to find 
for seven successive seasons. The members have 
implicit faith that, with the country being opened 
up by the new transcontinental railways to choose 
from, he will continue to find spots where no 
prying tourist can violate their seclusion. With¬ 
out the experience and generalship of Mr. 
Wheeler, these camps would be almost impos¬ 
sible. One can hardly imagine the Alpine Club 
without its genial autocrat. As he was one of 
the chief influences in bringing the club into 
existence, so he is also the genius of its organi¬ 
zation and the inspiration of all its undertakings. 
A little later and this site would have been 
beneath the dignity of an Alpine club, for by the 
end of next year the new mountain motor road, 
which the Provinces of Alberta and British Co¬ 
lumbia are building right across the Rockies, 
will run through this very valley in which we 
were encamped. So near to the dividing of the 
waters were we that the river was still at the 
stage of small glacial streams, one of which ran 
down either side of the thickly wooded bit of 
country which had been partially cleared to 
make room for the tents. With the men’s quar¬ 
ters on one stream, the women’s quarters on the 
RESTING AT THE SPRING. 
