So who suggests this bloody walk, anyway? The brochure and the hotel concierge both say the trek between Lake Louise across to Lake Agnes is clearly marked, spectacular and takes 5 to 6 hours return. We’ll be at the point where, before global warming, six individual glaciers converge.
Late summer, a cloudy, cold day but with sunshine forecast. Our day-packs include an expensive bottle of French fizz, several chocolate bars and smoked salmon wraps. We each wear hiking boots, jumpers and windcheaters, with the capacity to strip down later. We are on the track by 10 am, with excitement and smartphone-cameras setting the pace.
Sheila and I have been planning the trek for months, a highlight of our Canadian sojourn. We tackle the steepish gradient, stopping often to savour the jagged, snow-capped peaks high above. The lakes below have this opaque, impossibly whitish-blue, snow-melt colour.
Off the trail, we wander and find a perfect picnic spot. The scenery is breathtaking, a magical setting and the sun appears. The bottle of Verve Clique induces a post-lunch snooze.
We oversleep. The chill air and long shadows lend an urgency to our return. The sun is disappearing behind the mountains. Ten minutes and we still aren’t back on the trail. Strange, as we both think our lunch spot is close by!
Thank God for the windcheaters. We know the track is somewhere close, as our pace quickens, hearts pump just that little bit faster.
After an hour of blundering about, dusk comes and goes. We share a mild panic. Are there bears in this part of Banff? What other beasties are there in the Canadian wilderness? A branch snaps somewhere; the sound echoes eerily in the stillness.
“We’ll be right”, I proffer, my croaky voice discredits my confidence. What do the Mounties suggest we do? If lost in Australia’s Outback, you always stay with the car or sit tight; take stock. With no car, we sit.
What if we light a fire? Will that help searchers find us, or will it just attract curious wildlife? Kindling is plentiful and we huddle close to the fire’s comforting glow.
No Mounties arrive and we endure a cold, sleepless night. There is little talk, but our imaginations work overtime. A couple of owls begin a mournful duet; real or imagined terrors lurk in the darkness. Are those wolves howling in the distance?
First light, a dead fire and suddenly a moose lumbers into our clearing. We scream. I wonder who gets the bigger shock. Wow, those antlers? Do moose attack people? We’re up and running.
We’re on the trail before we realise, it’s just a hundred metres from last night’s encampment! To the right, it goes slightly uphill. We go left.
A misplaced step. I trip over a tree root. My ankle’s not happy! I try to hobble but it’s too painful. We’re sitting anxiously, wondering. Tears don’t help.
We hear, then see the chopper. It circles. Salvation. Thank God I have Comprehensive Travel Insurance!