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Blades of Glory
The sun came up and cottony clouds hung in the air like set props. We flew low over interconnecting channels of waterfalls. Valleys opened below and white glaciers veined with chasms of anti-freeze blue passed slowly outside the window. Later we climbed densely packed snow to make our way up to a series of glacial lakes. We paused in front of the biggest of these, Nagle Lake, to admire the deeply, almost weirdly blue water – a royal blue, surrounded by peaks of dark rock and green slopes. In winter, people get their thrills on the prime heli-ski runs. In summer, the rush is from being almost alone in, say, a field of yellow and fiery red Indian paintbrush that maybe 20 people will walk through in a year. From Nagle Lake, we walked up a field of big mica-flecked and feldspar rocks that, as Lyle put it, “got stirred up like rock stew.” Up a steep hill, across another patch of slick snow and a plateau of green, we came to a clearing and saw Alex and the Machine waiting on a ridge that’s barely wider than a bicycle path. Tomorrow we’ll walk across the densely packed ice of a glacier and find ourselves in a rocky grey moonscape. For now, though, back at the lodge, we hear Alex announcing over the radio, “All the kids are home” as he shuts off the engines on the helipad. On the deck, everyone rehashes the day’s sightings: “How big was that bear again? Six hundred pounds? How much of the day was uphill? All of it?” Dinner is served, followed by drinks around the fireplace. Lyle shows off his book of wildflower photography. The bartender pours some more Mount Begbie, a local beer, and then spontaneously swings a hula hoop around her neck. Outside, the white light of the Milky Way is visible in the infinite sky. Here, high in the mountains, we can almost see forever. Write to us: letters@enroutemag.net |
Photo: Topher Donahue, courtesy of Canadian Mountain Holidays
