The New West
A trip to Canada’s western province of Alberta offers a range of experiences, from the city of Calgary to the 6,641-square kilometre Banff National Park, with its glaciers, forests and alpine landscapes
WORDS: JANE SZITA
PHOTOS: ROB VAN DER VET
Ride ‘em
Dating from the early days of the last century, when it was a whisky trading post, Rafter Six Ranch is on the edge of Kananaskis Country – the location for the film Brokeback Mountain. Back in the 1940s and 1950s, Rafter Six itself featured in several Hollywood movies, including River of No Return, starring Marilyn Monroe. Now run by the colourful Cowley family and a range of skilled ‘wranglers’, the ranch retains its photogenic charm and its authentic cowboy credentials – just the place for a spot of trail riding, Western style.
South Ranch Road E, Exshaw, Alberta; +1 403 6733622. www.raftersix.com
“See that rock there?” asks BJ, reining back his horse and pointing at a large, upturned stone, which looks like a mini megalith, to the side of our trail. We try to line our horses up with his, but right now they’re far more interested in chomping on the lush-looking grass. “That stone’s been lifted by someone, and that someone’s a bear,” BJ continues, pulling on the brim of his Stetson to underline his point. “They lift ’em up looking for ants, and they leave ’em standing.” His blue eyes twinkle in a face as craggy as the panorama of the Canadian Rockies all around us.
BJ is our trail guide, a former Mountie who was practically born on a horse, having started riding at the tender age of three. Like almost everyone else you meet in the Rockies, he has a repertoire of bear tales. “Must’ve seen at least 100 bears,” he says, as our horses clatter up the scree-strewn trail with its backdrop of snow-topped peaks, to a soundtrack courtesy of the fastflowing Kananaskis River. “Matter of fact, I saw one yesterday.
On horseback, I’ve never had a problem with ’em,” he adds. “Bears and horses got a lot of respect for each other. The bear’s not an attacking kind of animal. It’s a scavenger, really. And it’ll never go for a horse.”
Bears – both black bears and grizzlies – are one reason why it pays to visit the Canadian Rockies in the summer. Turn up in the winter for skiing or snow-shoeing, and they’ll all be hibernating.
But in the summer, there’s a chance of seeing these big, furry symbols of the Rockies, or at least their traces – along with other wildlife, like the majestic, white-breasted falcon sitting atop a tree, and the white-tailed deer standing and blinking at us from the shadows as we trot past. And of course, trail riding through the scenery that stole the show in the film Brokeback Mountain is
another summer plus. From a horse, you don’t just see the
magnificent western landscape: you experience it like a true wrangler’, from the scent of the pine forest and the wind in your hair, down to every hoof-slip on mud or scree.
Unless you’ve plenty of time to spare, you really need a car to head further into the Rockies. Driving towards Banff National Park on the Trans-Canada Highway is a memorable road journey by any standards: the mountains loom larger with every minute. Yet in contrast to their seemingly timeless, unchanging presence, the weather is mercurial in the extreme. Having begun with grey skies and rain, it turns to sleet, then
stinging hail, then snow and a biting wind, before – finally – making amends with brilliant, warm sunshine. One minute you’re in Gore-Tex; the next in a T-shirt. Round here, you have the sense that Nature is in charge.
“It can snow 12 months a year here,” says John Samms, over a dinner of seasonal halibut and a fine Canadian Shiraz in a cosy restaurant in Canmore, a former coal mining town. John, a Jamaican-born fly-fishing guide, lives here in the shadow of the majestic trio of peaks known as the Three Sisters. “Last year, we had snow on July 4,” he says, not altogether reassuringly. “But it disappears as suddenly as it arrives, thanks to the chinook. That’s an Indian word, meaning ‘snow-eater’. And that’s just what it does – the chinook is a warm weather front from the Pacific, and when it comes in, it comes in fast. The snow just vanishes.”
Sure enough, the next morning is bright and warm, and the Three Sisters dazzle in the sunlight. We hit the road again, and Banff National Park unfolds in endless ranges of intricately cragged grey limestone peaks, topped with white crowns of snow, etched in startling clarity against a brilliant blue sky. Getting out of the car, and into nature, is irresistible. On a natural meadow in the massive presence of Mount Rundle, an imposing geological sandwich of shale and limestone, we join Ronna Schneberger for some invigorating ‘eco yoga’. “I started the yoga because I want to help people reconnect to nature,” she says in the pause between poses. “We forget how deeply connected we are to the landscape, with
disastrous results for ourselves and the natural world. Yoga, like these mountains, helps us enquire into our timeless nature.”
In this relative wilderness, it’s sometimes easy to forget that people have been connecting with the nature of the Rockies for many thousands of years. The mountains and their creatures, especially the bear, are central to the culture of the Stoney Indians, also known as the Rocky Mountain Sioux, who lived here long before the first Europeans arrived. “For us, the mountains are alive,” explains Stoney Jackson Wesley, at the First Nations museum in Banff. “In our philosophy, everything in the world has a spirit, but the mountain is the most powerful spirit of all, because it protects us from the elements. Every day, the Stoneys pray to the mountains to keep us alive.”
One mile above sea-level, on the shores of Lake Louise, Mount Victoria is going out of its way to prove the Stoneys’ ‘living mountain’ hypothesis. With a sound like distant thunder, a white cloud, like breath, appears a third of the way down its face: a glacier collapse. “Yes, the mountains are alive,” says mountaineer and guide Mike Vincent, with a respectful nod to the ring of towering peaks that dwarf us as we hike along the edge of the lake. Mountaineers know that – at least, if we survive long enough we do. When you’re young, mountain climbing is all about conquest. But as you get older, you realise that it’s up to the mountain whether you get up there or not. Is that the same as the Stoney view? Well, it originates in a physical rather than a spiritual perception, but I think it comes down to the same thing.”
“These mountains inspire people in a spiritual, emotional way,” agrees Jill Sawyer of the Banff Centre, the park’s surprisingly large arts institute, which is surely one of the few places on earth to host an annual Mountain Film Festival. “Every artist who comes here says the same thing: they can work here more intensely than anywhere else.” The Rockies do seem to put a spring in your step, leaving you unaccountably energised. “There’s a strong positive vibe here,” adds mountaineer Mike Vincent. “Miserable people don’t last very long.” Or, as John Samms the fly-fishing guide puts it, “The mountains heal you, whether you like it or not.”
Not far away from the road, close to the Vermillion Lakes, civilisation has slipped away. A fox slinks through the trees, and in the distance there are elusive, bear-shaped shadows to be glimpsed, keeping you on your toes. A tiny, hyperactive chipmunk, no bigger than a finger, hops along ahead of you.
A female elk passes so close, you can see her breath. Later, on the way to Lake Minnewanka, three bighorn sheep are literally stopping the traffic – well, all three cars of it – as everyone pauses to take a photo. The sheep, with their fine curved horns, look surprisingly demure for an animal that, during the rutting season, can headbutt its rivals at up to 110 kilometres per hour.
Down on the little jetty, the huge, glassy expanse of the lake reflects every shimmering detail of the mountains and the sky. On a small boat a few feet away, Scotty, of Banff Fishing Unlimited, is finishing up for the day with his friend Pete. He deftly fillets two lake trout for supper, then calls us to come and see as he throws the innards into the water “for my pets”. He means the metre-long brown trout that flash up to the surface to
gobble the treat before swiftly vanishing again. “An endangered species,” Scotty explains. “But you wouldn’t catch these anyway, would you? They’re too beautiful.”
Bear necessities
Bears have a special place in the human imagination – partly because they are big and dangerous. So it’s good to remember that they’re generally shy and retiring creatures. “In the Canadian Rockies, bears are 90% vegetarian,” says mountain guide Mike Vincent. “Since records began, bears have killed three people per year in Canada, while domestic dogs have killed 25 on average.”
Bears can, however, attack if surprised. “So you should make some noise as you walk along a trail,” he advises. “That gives the bear a chance to flee. And if you come across fresh bear droppings or tracks, leave the area.” If you see a bear, he recommends backing away while talking calmly. “Never approach a bear or attempt to feed one by hand,” he says. “Problems can arise when bears associate people with food.” That means all supplies must be kept out of reach, and disposed of only in those ubiquitous bear-proof trashcans. Says Vincent: “We, not bears, have to change the way we act.”
The lake is as smooth as a mirror right now, but some days, he says, there are 1.5-metre waves. Other days, you can’t see for snow. “But that’s the nature of the job,” he says contentedly. “Constantly changing, never boring.” And, he could add, that’s the nature of the Rockies too.
The New West
“You know you’re from Calgary,” a local quips, “when your belt buckle costs more than your watch.” That tells you how much this city
cherishes its cowboy roots, and is proud to be known as the capital of Canada’s New West. On a Saturday, the streets are thronged with stalls selling Stetsons, ‘snake-kicker’ boots, checked shirts and yes, belt buckles, while buskers play Western hoedown fiddle music to an appreciative crowd. But the time to really savour the city’s Wild West culture is during July’s Calgary Stampede – a ten-day rodeo epic
featuring chuckwagon races, bull riding, calf roping and other events. The first stampede was held in 1886, just a few years after Calgary started life as a Mountie fort, established on the beautiful Bow River to counter the illegal whisky trade. Today, you can still see Mounties in their iconic
ceremonial red coats and pony Stetson hats on the city streets, but modern Calgary is built around another trade entirely; it’s the centre of
Canada’s oil industry. The oil business has even influenced the name of the city’s ice hockey team: the Calgary Flames. But some things never
change. “Calgary,” one native explains, “is said to be conservative. Actually it’s libertarian – it has the real Wild West mentality.” www.calgarystampede.com
