Alberta snapshot: Johnston Canyon (past the Upper Falls).

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Admission to Canada’s national parks has been free all year as the country celebrates its sesquicentennial, but it’s a gift I hadn’t yet enjoyed…until braving the insane long-weekend crowds in Banff’s Johnston Canyon last Saturday.  Parking was at a premium (thank goodness my brother has a car with a supremely compact exterior and a dimension-bending interior) and the steel catwalks to the spectacular falls were crammed with visitors, but as we ventured past the Upper Falls and headed towards the mineral pools known as the Ink Pots, the throngs thinned out and the scenery kept getting better and better…if such a thing is even possible.  It’s pretty easy to see why everyone is so keen on showing up.

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Alberta snapshot: Hoodoos.

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Hoodoos – Tunnel Mountain – Banff.  Photo taken 17 May 2013.

Here’s another pic from my (one-day-in-the-nebulous-future-to-be-defunct) blog There is a Light.  I did some research on the origins of the word “hoodoo” and got snarled up in a linguistic nightmare – let’s just say the word may or may not be a version of “voodoo,” probably referring to the weird shapes of the spires.

I do love the French names for them, however:  Demoiselles coiffées (“Ladies with hairdos”) and Cheminées de fées (“Fairy chimneys”) – so imaginative and beautifully descriptive!  And apparently in Blackfoot and Cree traditions, hoodoos were thought to be petrified stone giants that animated in the dark of night to hurl rocks down at unsuspecting passers-by.

Alberta snapshot: Bridge across the Bow.

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The third structure in this location, the current bridge that spans the Bow River in the town of Banff was built in 1923.  The upper deck was widened in the 1980s to accommodate more vehicle and foot traffic.  Calgary artist James L. Thomson created the reliefs that decorate the bridge.   Photo taken 17 May 2013.

I’m doing some spring cleaning on my blogs, which seems infinitely more interesting and less demanding than actual spring cleaning.  This post is an import from the long-defunct There is a Light, dated 13 June 2013.  I’ll move a few more images over to Flowery Prose in the coming weeks so I can finally shutter the old blog.

Do you do any major cleaning or organizing (on your blog or otherwise!) on a seasonal basis?

Alberta Snapshot: Rainy day sunset.

 

Rainy sunset in Kananaskis

 

From the archives of my blog There is a Light: A rainy sunset in Kananaskis Country, May 2012.

It’s raining here this morning, but it’s nowhere near as picturesque as the photo above – rather, it’s one of those nasty ice rains that is predicted to turn into snow this afternoon.  I’ve been absolutely swamped with work and writing projects this week so the flowerbeds and my community garden plot are still in a state of Autumn 2013 neglect…and now, on my day off, I can’t get out there to do anything.  Oh well!  I think I’ll have another cup of tea and then go for a nap….

While I put the kettle on, I’ll leave you with a few topics I’ve been musing about:

Banff-based photographer Paul Zizka has a book out called Summits & Starlight:  The Canadian Rockies (2013, Rocky Mountain Books, Alberta), with some absolutely breathtaking and unique shots of the mountains next door…I finally had a chance to go through the book and I was just astonished at the places he has visited and captured.  Check out his gallery to see what I mean – these aren’t your average roadside pics of giant rocks.

I’ve been seriously considering the idea of creating a sourdough starter…this would be my first crack at it and so any tips you bread-makers out there have would be massively appreciated!  The clincher is that I have a huge amount of red fife flour in the freezer, so I want to make my starter from that, not regular all-purpose white flour.  I found a book at work called Baking Sourdough Bread (by Göran Söderin and George Strachal, 2014 Skyhorse Publishing, Sweden) that looks like it may be able to offer up some assistance, so we’ll see how it goes.  I don’t know when I will embark on this new venture…I am in research mode right now.  🙂

Speaking of food, The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth, The Calgary Stampede, has announced its midway food offerings for this year – I don’t know if scorpion pizza will have universal appeal, but poutine with perogies sure has my vote.  Peruse the madness here (and let me know in the comments what grosses you out the most…or what you’d willingly sample).

Have a wonderful weekend! 

 

Bankhead rhubarb.

My hubby and I took a quick dash up to Banff National Park this past weekend, and although we didn’t have time to do any serious hiking, we managed to walk some sites we’d never been to before.  The most eye-opening place was the old townsite of Bankhead, a mining community that sprang up in 1903 to extract coal from nearby Cascade Mountain.  Nestled against Lake Minnewanka, Bankhead rapidly boomed – at one point, the town had 900 residents, running water, electricity (and, according to one interpretive sign, tennis courts!).

The glory days all ended abruptly in 1922, when the lease of the parks land from the government ran out.  High costs and declining production further sealed the deal, and the town was shuttered.   By this time, Parks Canada was no longer interested in the mining business, either – its focus had shifted from exploitation of resources to conserving them.  (Indeed, within the decade, mining would be banned in the national park).  The citizens of Bankhead relocated to neighbouring towns:  Banff, Canmore, or Calgary, and all of the buildings in the town were demolished.

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Walking among the industrial ruins of Lower Bankhead gives you a sense of how large the mining operation was, and how many people it took to keep all of the machines running.  Apparently, in 1911, when the mine was at peak production, 450 men yanked 500,000 tons of coal from the mountain.

While we picked our way around the piles of shiny coal slack near the former tipple, my hubby suddenly remarked that the plants growing in the black heaps looked an awful lot like rhubarb.  An interpretive sign confirmed his suspicions – apparently, the immigrant labourers that kept the tipple running day and night had planted rhubarb in their gardens…and all these years later, it is reseeding itself and multiplying all over the landscape, shooting up architectural stalks and flowers, bearing fruit that no one will ever eat because it is carcinogenic.   What an interesting living reminder of a past that most people have long forgotten.  (It may also be a testament to the fact that rhubarb can grow pretty much anywhere!).  😉

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Photo credit – #7 by R. Normandeau