Johnston Canyon

This is an ongoing series recapping my 2008 trip to Banff National Park in Alberta, Canada.

Want waterfalls?

In Banff National Park, the place to see lovely cascades is Johnston Canyon.

Walkway through the canyon

A trip to Banff would not be complete without a trek through this narrow gorge.  A popular dayhike, it winds through the canyon on sturdy catwalks.  Following Johnston Creek, it passes numerous gushing waterfalls.  Energetic visitors can continue on to the Ink Pots, a group of greenish-colored mineral springs.

Lots of waterfalls!

If there's a waterfall to be viewed, you can bet I'll hike to it.  On the fourth day of our Banff vacation, my hubby and I decided to check this canyon out.

Very narrow gap

Due to it's fantastic scenery, Johnston Canyon has a reputation for drawing crowds.  Wishing to avoid the masses, Roger and I rose super-duper early.  Our plan worked wonderfully.  For the first couple hours, we practically had the place to ourselves.

Rushing blue water

After traveling through the forest on an asphalt path, we entered the canyon proper.  Near-vertical walls of limestone rock towered high above.  The clear, gray-blue water of Johnston Creek burbled through a narrow gap in the canyon's walls.  To allow access to all, a walkway had been affixed to one side of the cliff.

Looking down on Lower Falls

After covering a mere 0.7 mile (or 1.1 km) we came upon the first cascade, Lower Falls.  A 33-foot (10 meter) beauty, the first thing one notices when approaching the falls is a large, deep green plunge pool.  A catwalk suspended across the creek provided a great viewing platform.  To experience Lower Falls up close and personal, one could also crawl through a tiny tunnel to a spot within a few meters of the gushing water.  But, be warned, you will get wet!

Lower Falls peeps between the rocks

Since I didn't want to risk soaking my good DSLR, I opted to photograph Lower Falls from the bridge deck.  Not a bad view!

Amazing rock formations

After taking in Lower Falls, my hubby and I continued along this amazing catwalk trail through the canyon.  I've never been on such a well-built walkway.  It hung on the side of sheer cliffs, bridged the rushing creek, and wound around trees, boulders, and other obstacles.  If not for this path, Johnston Canyon and it's many sights would be inaccessible to all but the most die-hard rock climbers.

Nameless waterfalls

Upper Falls was another 1.5 km further.  Meandering through the canyon, we passed many small, unnamed waterfalls.  The clear waters of Johnston Creek were a delight, splashing off boulders, dropping from overhangs, and churning past narrow points.

Suspended above the water

We climbed higher, past a zone of thick trees.  And then I heard a rushing roar.

Upper Falls

We'd arrived at Upper Falls!  Although the splash pool wasn't as scenic as it's little sister, this cascade was the big girl in the waterfall family.  Measuring nearly 100 feet (30 meters) in height, she towered through a well-worn gap in the rock.

This falls generates its own rainbow

After ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the lower catwalk, Roger and I climbed to an upper viewpoint.  A platform suspended over the gorge gave a dizzying perspective.  And - best of all - huge volumes of water flying through the air combined with mid-morning sun to create a lovely rainbow.

Grouse family

Most visitors only travel up Johnston Canyon as far as the Upper Falls.  But for the hardy hiker, more good stuff awaits.  Six cold water mineral springs, called the Ink Pots, were located another 3.5 km (a little more than 2 miles) further.  A unanimous decision, Roger and I chose to extend our hike.

Wonderful valley near the Ink Pots

Our trail left the canyon, and began to climb through dense forest.  Constantly on the lookout for wildlife, Roger spotted a grouse family perched on a downed tree trunk.  Other than that, it was a hot, boring trek.  The tall canyon walls had effectively blocked the sun, keeping temperatures mild.  But now exposed to the midday heat, we were feeling the effects.

The Ink Pots

Winding up a canyon wall, the land suddenly opened up into a wide, beautiful valley.  Mountains rose up from all sides.  Green forests carpeted the floor.  And in the middle of it all, sat a bunch of emerald pools of water.

Knife edge mountain

These were the famous "Ink Pots."  Wooden walkways had been constructed around their perimeters, with small wooden bridges spanning small gaps between pools.  I walked around several ponds, admiring the clear, unusual-colored water.  It appeared to be bubbling up from vents on the bottom of each pool. 

The Ink Pots were an emerald green color

Roger and I finally took a snack break, sitting beside one of the Ink Pots.  It was a gorgeous place to rest.  Since few people bother to continue past Upper Falls, we shared our space with only a  handful of tourists.

Nearby wildflowers

I even spotted a few late-blooming wildflowers!

Dramatic views

After spending a peaceful hour admiring the area, my hubby and I retraced our steps back through Johnston Canyon.  By now, the place was absolutely packed with people.  Not wanting to complete for views, we didn't bother stopping at any of the waterfalls.  Instead, Roger and I marched straight down the catwalk, heading for the trailhead.

Enjoying cold ones after another great hike!

Great hikes always end with cold liquid refreshment.  Back at the campsite, we kicked off our boots, and enjoyed some tasty Canadian brews (Canada has the most amazing beer!).

One more vacation day left.  And we'd planned to drive the jaw-dropping Icefields Parkway.  Coming in my next post -  you won't want to miss it!


Sharing with:   Our World Tuesday and Good Fences

New Year's Day at the Coast

I think I'm starting a new tradition.

New Year's Day is usually spent on the mountain skiing.  But last year's skimpy snowpack kept me away.  Not wanting to waste the day off, I loaded up my dog and camera and headed to the coast.  It ended up being a great trip, and I came home with a memory card full of gorgeous photos.

Blue skies for a new year

Fast forward to NYD 2015.  Although I wanted to hit the slopes, I couldn't.  My foot still out of commission from October's surgery, skiing wasn't yet an option.  But, I'd finally been given the okay to drive.  After sitting home for over two months, I was chomping at the bit to go somewhere.  Why not visit the beach?

Tracks in the sand

So I once again packed up camera and dog and pointed my car west.  Although I experienced some swelling, my foot did good during the hour's drive.  Looking for a nice, flat walk (both for my foot and Bear's ailing hips) I decided to park at Tolovana Beach, located on the south end of Cannon Beach.

Some horses enjoying the day

New Year's Day 2015 weather was a polar opposite of the previous year.  Instead of clouds and rain, I was greeted with gorgeous blue skies.  Although temps were a wee bit chilly, I didn't mind in the least.  I was just happy to finally go someplace!

Perfect sea stack reflections

Bear and I gimped out of the car and headed towards the water.  The beach was nothing short of spectacular.  Waves sparkled in the sunshine.  Sea stacks reflected in the wet sand.  A retreating tide created a nice wide beach, perfect for walking.  Glimpsing Haystack Rock, a large sea stack, in the distance, I decided to amble towards it.

Good doggie reflections too!

The beach was a busy place.  There were lots of families with kids, couples strolling hand in hand, dogs running and sniffing - even a group of horseback riders!

Trying out my new selfie pole

One of my after-Christmas purchases was a selfie pole.  Mainly to use with my new GoPro camera, I discovered my point and shoot also fit it's mounts.  Walking towards Haystack Rock, I amused myself with self portrait attempts.  I'm sure I looked totally goofy to the other folks (see that wacky lady trying to take pictures of herself?)   But I had fun trying to capture the perfect selfie.  Yeah, this was my best one.  As you can tell, I need a bit more practice!
  

Haystack Rock

After passing the crowds near the parking lot, I let Bear off leash so he could run.  In the past, he's been real good about staying close.  But old age must be working on my dog's brain, (he just turned 13) because Bear wandered far ahead of me.

Wave action

I hollered for Bear to come back, but between the wave noise, and my dog being hard of hearing, he didn't respond.  Although fairly mobile by then, I still walked with a limp, and wasn't very fast.  Great!  If Bear got into mischief, I couldn't go running after him.

Lots of wave action!

I was almost to Haystack Rock, when I finally caught up with my doggie.  A popular place, it attracted lots of beach walkers.  Due to the large number of people here, I decided it would be best to put Bear back on his leash.

Silhouettes on the beach

Of course, Bear was less than thrilled to be tethered again.  And for me, it was kind of a pain to take photos with a dog pulling at my arm.  But at least I'd keep him out of trouble.

Happy 2015 from Bear!

Around the base of Haystack Rock photo subjects abounded.  Waves crashed into the rocks, and rushed onto the beach.  I spent half my time trying to capture a good splash.  A few nearby tidepools held spiky anemones.  Nearby sea stacks reflected in the wet sand.  And of course, people watching was first rate.

Peaceful beach scene

Haystack Rock is the largest of Cannon Beach's sea stacks.  Measuring 235 feet above the sand, this giant basalt monolith is a local landmark.  Many varieties of birds nest in it's crevices, and tidepools at it's base teem with interesting sea creatures. 

Love the sand patterns

I was happy I'd made it all the way to the big rock, a half mile in distance.  But all this walking came at a price.  My foot was starting to swell quite alarmingly.  This wasn't good - I still had to walk the same distance back.

Bear takes a breather

Realizing I'd probably already overdone it, I tore myself away from Haystack Rock and it's many photo subjects, and began a slow slog to the car.

Can you spot the surfers?

Of course, the return trip wasn't delayed solely by an angry foot.  Lots of great subjects caught my eye on the way back too.

Seagulls looking for food

There were seagulls looking for food at water's edge.  Interesting sand patterns.  Fading afternoon light casting unusual shadows.  A group of surfers walking along the crashing waves.  Footprints in the beach leading somewhere. 

Hoofprints in the sand

And of course, lots of sweeping vistas.

Heading back to the car

Late afternoon light illuminated the wet sand to a lovely shade of blue.

Looking back at where we'd been

Although the gorgeous photo ops were a good distraction from an aching foot, I was relieved when the parking lot, and my car, finally came into view.  After all that walking, my foot felt the size of a watermelon.  Wanting to calm things down before the long ride home, I elevated it by propping my leg on a car door.  I sat in position for a long time.

The sun is starting to go down

But nature started to call, and I decided a potty break would be a good idea before heading home.  So I lowered my still-angry foot, and limped over to the ladies room.

Haystack Rock engulfed in golden light

The restrooms were conveniently located right next to the beach.  Exiting the building, I noticed the sinking sun was bathing everything in a lovely golden glow.  Oh wow!  Sore foot or not, I had to get my camera!

Waiting for sunset

I hastily hobbled back to the car.  While retrieving my camera, Bear gave me a funny look, as if to say "aren't we leaving now?"  I left him in the car, and took off for the beach as fast as my aching foot would let me.

Great way to start 2015!

In those final five minutes, I got my best photos of the day.  Standing on the walkway above the sand, I fired away at everything in sight.  The light was nothing short of spectacular.  Sky, water and sand glowed a rich golden color.  As the sun slowly sank below the clouds, it gave one last burst of shining light.  Such a magical moment.   

A perfect end to the first day of 2015.


Sharing with:  Saturday's Critters and Weekend Reflections and 52 Photos Project.

Ridin' the Rapids

This is an ongoing series recapping my 2008 trip to Banff National Park in Alberta, Canada.

Day three of our Banff National Park vacation, I'd scheduled a whitewater rafting trip down the Kicking Horse River.  Having never rafted before, Roger and I were excited....and a wee bit apprehensive.

There was no way I was gonna risk damaging my expensive photography equipment by taking it onboard, so I purchased a disposable waterproof camera for the occasion (GoPros weren't widely used yet in 2008).  So if the photos in this post look a little hazy, that's why.  (Well.....and the camera got splashed multiple times.)  Sorry the images aren't up to my usual standards, but the story is too good not to share.

Ready to run the river!

There was lots of outfitters in the area offering rafting tours, and prior to our trip I'd researched them all.  So how did I finally decide?  Did I pick the company with the best safety record, experienced guides, or best price?  Uh...no.  I let my stomach do the talking, and chose the one offering a free BBQ lunch.

So as Roger and I, and the other customers chowed down on a delicious spread of steak and ribs, our guides proceeded to scare the bejesus out of us with their safety instructions.  "The river is still very cold.......the water is extremely fast ......you could fall out and hit a rock......the waves are unpredictable......we're going to be going through some Class IV rapids, which are very dangerous.... this is what you do if you fall out......"  I was nervous before, and this wasn't helping.  What was I getting myself into?

Roger gets his first splashing

After our safety talk, everyone was outfitted with protective gear.  Wet suit, fleece pullover, waterproof jacket, helmet and life jacket.  Even in late July, the glacially-fed Kicking Horse River was ice cold.  Our guides didn't want anyone getting hypothermia.

Then we split into groups - eight people to a raft, a grand total of four rafts.  Our guide was a lanky young man named Pierre.  Right away, I knew we'd chosen the best guy.  Pierre started out telling jokes, and didn't stop the entire time, inserting instructions in between his gut-splitting one-liners.

The scenery was outstanding

After everyone found a seat on the raft, we pushed off, and began slowly drifting down a slow-moving portion of the Kicking Horse River.  A perfect place to get us neophytes oriented, Pierre took the opportunity to give everyone a quick lesson on paddling.  We each had an oar, and Pierre expected us to use it.  He instructed "When I say paddle, you must paddle!"

Pierre, our guide, was a total riot

Downstream, the placid river suddenly gave way to roaring rapids.  My stomach began flip-flopping.  Pierre shouted "Paddle now!"  All eight of us clumsily thrust our oars into the water, trying not to hit each other.  A wave washed over the raft's bow, completely dousing Roger (who'd actually chosen to sit in the very front).  Strong currents rocked our small watercraft, as we bumped through a gauntlet of huge rocks.  It felt like a wild carnival ride.  I prayed I wouldn't fall in.

Pulling out the rafts at halfway

And then just as quickly as we entered the rapids, the river suddenly widened out again, and slowed into a gentle current.  Whew!  I'd made it through!  And, hey, what a wild rush of fun!

First set of rapids now behind us, it was practical joke time.  Another raft glided alongside ours, it's guide attempting to pull a lady overboard.  Everyone retaliated by splashing him with their oars.  Pierre, wanting to even the score, caught up to the same raft, and quickly grabbed the nearest occupant's life jacket.  A very surprised man hit the water, making a huge splash.  Pierre mischievously flashed his fellow guide what he called the "Kootenay Salute," which consisted of (ahem) extending one's middle finger.

Loading the rafts, we drove around some impassible rapids

Past the slow current, our craft bumped through another patch of whitewater.  This time my raft-mates and I were ready.  Paddles in  hand, we navigated through with lots of splashing and gleeful whoops.  Waves washed over the side, soaking everyone.  This was a total blast!  Pierre told us we'd just run through some Class II and III rapids.  This wasn't bad at all - piece of cake!

We floated through another patch of calm water.  By now, my fingers had released their death grip on my oar, and I was relaxed enough to look around and enjoy the spectacular scenery lining the Kicking Horse River.  But not for long.  Another set of rapids awaited.  And another.  But, with each one, I became more confident, and started to really enjoy myself.

All aboard the "Cool Bus"

Around another bend, and it was time to take the rafts out.  Pierre said downstream lurked a stretch of very dangerous rapids that were nearly impassable.  For two of the rafts, this was the end of their trip.  But Roger and I had paid for the longer journey, so we, and some of the other customers, boarded a school bus (with the "s" and "h" removed from the back, it became the "cool bus") which transported rafts and riders around the bad section of the river.

Everyone in our raft had signed up for the extended tour, so once past the rough spot, we all piled back in, with Pierre again at the helm.  He warned that in in this next stretch of river we'd be going through some Class IV rapids.  When he hollered "hold on," we needed to pay attention and do just that.  Gulp!

I'm happy to have survived a Class IV rapid

The current began to flow faster.  Our raft gained more and more speed.  Pierre yelled for us to paddle.  All of us dug our oars in the water, and stroked furiously.  My side of the raft got caught in a strong current which quickly drug it towards a sheer rock wall.  Pierre shouted "pull in your oars - NOW!"  I hastily retracted my oar mere seconds before we slammed into the rock.

Uh-oh....our raft was now pinned against the rocky bank, with rapids streaming all around.  But Pierre, who'd obviously been in this predicament before, calmly used his oar to push off, and in no time, we were again shooting through the narrow canyon.  Our boat bounced off of huge rocks like a ping-pong ball.  Waves of water hit us from all sides.  Fearing I'd be bucked overboard into the roiling river, I held on for dear life.

Our raft shooting through whitewater

And then, it was over.  We drifted into a calm backwater.  I'd survived the rough ride!  And....you know....although scary at the time, it was kind of fun.  Pierre pointed towards the shore, and told us to smile.  Stationed on the riverbank was a rafting company employee, snapping our picture.  Proof that we'd conquered the mighty Kicking Horse.

As our raft bumped over a small set of whitewater, Pierre invited us to jump into the river, and let the current carry our bodies over the drop.  Although most of the folks in our group decided to try it, I wasn't quite ready to leave this nice, secure boat.  I'd done good just getting through the rapids, thank you very much!  We floated ahead of the body surfers, and picked them all up.  Everyone who opted for the river ride said it was very peaceful.  Hmmm.......maybe next time.

Drenched but totally stoked

Soon, way too soon, we approached the designated take-out spot, and just like that, our first whitewater rafting trip was history.  Exhilarated, Roger and I both agreed it had been an absolute blast.  Although apprehensive at first, we'd faced our fears, and came away with a memorable experience. And, thanks to Pierre, we now had a new repertoire of jokes to try out on our friends.

I've got a couple more Banff trips to share with you all, so please stop by again!