June 3, 2024.
7.9 mi. |1625′ ele. gain | 5:30 hr.
Still feeling crummy, but needing to get out of the van, I decided to take a stroll up the Johnston Canyon Trail in Banff National Park. After surviving the absolute mob scene that the town of Banff was the day prior, I really needed some time in nature. I packed my art supplies and planned on hiking up a short ways to find a nice waterfall to paint.
But once I got outside and my body was in motion, I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t moving at breakneck speeds due to being sick, but I was moving. And it felt SO good. The trail begins along a deep canyon carved by the churning water. A raised boardwalk bolted into the rock wall carries hikers above the foamy river. Along the way, you can look down at endless cascades and pools of turquoise water. It reminded me vaguely of the canyon hike we’d done in Germany years earlier.
There were people on the trail, but it wasn’t crazy. I passed the lower falls, then the upper falls, then kept hiking. At that point, I lost about 90% of the people on the trail. The refreshing solitude was all the motivation I needed to continue. Climbing away from the river and through the dark woods, I suddenly felt alone. “Hey birds!” I’d say somewhat to myself and somewhat to the imaginary bears in the trees. I remembered that I was in bear country and I put my hand on my can of bear spray to remind me it was there. But it wouldn’t be too long before I heard voices behind me and I relaxed.
The woods were serene, peaceful and beautiful. Everything was lush and green. Just as I was getting really wiped out from all the uphill climbing (with no poles, this would be a casual hike, I thought!), I checked the map. Downhill to the geologic feature ahead called the “Inkpots.” At that point, I decided I’d go the whole way.
Just before emerging from the thick trees, I got a peek-a-boo preview of the mountains to come. Then, out of nowhere, I arrived. The Inkpots are spring-fed pools with wildly different colors, an illusion created by the type and amount of suspended sediments in the water. Green and rusty yellow meadows filled the spaces between the brilliantly colored pools. The whole scene was surrounded by a ring of craggy mountains. Idyllic, to say the least.
I chose a bench overlooking the pools and started painting. In my bleary state this morning, I’d forgotten to throw my snacks in my backpack so I had nothing to eat but a hard candy that’s lived in my bag for over a year. I focused on trying to capture the landscape in front of me. I got the perspective and scale all wrong, but I did my best to get some of the colors right. Just as I started to paint, I felt sprinkles coming down from the thick layer of clouds. Not again! I pushed through and the sky relented, even offering up a few sunt breaks between gray masses of moisture.
With my painting complete and my nature time achieved for the day, I hurried out of there. All I could think about was making myself a nice lunch when I got back to the van. The crowds swelled as I got closer and closer to the trailhead. I held on really tightly to the memories of quiet woods just a couple hours before. As I pushed myself through the last throng of people, I burst out into the parking lot and collapsed into the van. I don’t remember what I had for lunch, but it was probably the best lunch I’d ever had.
I’ve either deliberately or accidentally not packed snacks for what I thought would be a “quick” hike a few times now on this trip. Never again. I’ve learned about how strongly I’m pulled into longer adventures than planned, and that I should always have something to eat to quell the hanger that grows so quickly. At least I brought plenty of water!