Eisenhower and the Munchies

"Jeesus Christ!" Martin sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag. "Something just jumped on me!"

Suddenly the pleasing prospect of a night spent snuggled in our bags gazing blissfully at the star spangled sky, had a question mark over it. I groped amongst the chaos of ropes, boots, gear etc around me (carefully arranged by pitchfork fifteen minutes earlier) for the head torch. Marty switched on at the same time, and our small spotlights scanned the plateau for the source of our concern.

"Whets that?" Two large nocturnal eyes in something that looked like a cross between a Chihuaua and a giant mouse, gazed at us from the edge of the beam.

"F*** off", said Marty, and it did, but not for long, and it brought reinforcements.

Expletives and angry gestures seemed to work fairly well, as they continually backed off, only to approach from a different direction. Marty became bored, switched off his light, and went to sleep. I tried to do likewise, but was soon aware of a munching sound. Torch back on, and scanned the chaos of my belongings. Something beside my rock boots. I poked it with my walking pole and it scampered. There was a bit missing out of the side of my rock boot. Poor thing, gone off somewhere to die!

Light off. ZZZZZ. Munch, munch. Light on. Half my peaked cap gone!

The reader may wonder at this stage why I didn't just gather my gear into the rucksack, and put it between Marty, and myself but that would have been too simple, entirely contrary to my untidy nature, and to be honest I was beginning to thoroughly enjoy myself.

We were high on Castle Mountain in the Canadian Rockies, having climbed the Eisenhower Tower. There had been 12 pitches of climbing, and we had topped out at 8.00PM. The last two abseils were done in the dark, and we were delighted to get back to our water, food and bivvy gear on the plateau.

Munch, munch. Thwack! Way Hey! Got the bastard that time. Peace for 10 or 15 minutes then; Munch munch. Thwack!

"Marty, Marty Wake Up". Jesus Alan Would ya give it a rest?" "No look at the sky". It was awash with Aurora Borealis. We gazed in wonder. Blessed! What a day we had yesterday on the tower, and now this!

At the first indications of dawn, the Pikas (for that is what they were apparently) vanished. No holes in the ground, and no obvious places to hide on the plateau.

Marty woke on the hard ground at 8.00, the corner of his Thermarest having entered the Rocky Mountain food chain sometime during the night, and we packed up and down climbed the lower cliff band, crossed an exposed ledge, pausing only briefly to observe a wolverine disappearing around the corner, and descended into forest. We were back in bear country!

I hadn't had a problem with bears. I was in the Canadian Rockies before, in 1977, and we had been relieved of our breakfast whilst camping in Banff, by a bear with a taste for the Ulster Fry, and little concern for his cholesterol level.

In Colorado and California there were bear warnings in the campsites, with detailed "Dos and Don'ts" with everything from storage of food to abstinence from sex. This was different.

Just before our arrival, a lady jogger had been attacked and killed by a bear, upset at being evicted from Canmore golf course, presumably for improper dress.

The park authorities were jumpy, as this was the time that black bear and grizzlies come down to eat berries and occasionally tourists, and there were dire warnings to hikers about travelling in groups of less than six, making lots of noise, carrying bear spray, moving slowly etc. If you observe all the recommendations you should be OK, but if you are still unfortunate to surprise a "Touchy" bear, well, you have 3 seconds to live! Or so Marty said, and he should know, he bought the book. "Bear Attacks" (Presumably written by someone who survived one) which he duly read to us every night before we retired to our very un bear proof tent, in our very un bear proof campsite. There was in fact one bear proof campsite at Lake Louise, which bore an uncanny resemblance to the set of Jurassic Park. But only one!

Our three hour descent through the forest, singing, shouting, clapping hands, and occasionally praying, brought us back to the highway, where Mary and Margaret were sunning themselves and drinking coffee outside a roadside "Vittler".

The Canadian Rockies are very spectacular, stunningly beautiful with their turquoise lakes, and the Canadians are friendly straightforward people, but this is not a place for the faint hearted! There are long walk ins through forest with bears cougar, wolverines, elk, (and even man eating mosquitoes) with no short cuts, as in the Alps.

Telepheriques are few and far between, as are huts, therefore the peaks here have to be climbed in a day from the valley, or entail overnight camp or bivvy, hopefully above the predator line. When we were there in July, there had been late snowfall, therefore the Alpine Peaks were still in avalanche mode, and were not being climbed.

Would I go back to the Canadian Rockies again? Hmmmm!

Alan Tees 2006