Loved to Death

There it is, a typical photo taken of the glacial blue waters of Lake Louise. Beautiful. A photo is worth 1,000 words, but what is outside of the frame? A photo as we all know, is a glimpse of the actual subject, perhaps 1/5th, perceiving the image with only our eyes leaving our other senses famished. 

A typical photo at Lake Louise, the throngs of tourists left out of frame. June 2021

On the day we traveled to the Lake Louise area, smoke decayed our views and tainted the lungs. Knowing that lake parking is full by 7am, we chose to ride the Parks Canada shuttle bus at 8am. As expected, the lake shore was already pulsing with parking lot sight-seers. 

A toy dog in a pink vest barks incessantly at another dog which pays little mind to the obnoxious creature. It’s owner, sporting similar pink attire, doesn’t seem to mind obstructing the triple wide path. 

A man in a full headdress and traditional indigineous attire stands at the lakeside. White feathers and furs punctuating the outfit. 

“May I get a photo with you?” I asked as I dropped five dollars in the basket near his moccasin adorned feet. “Yes, of course” He replied in a soft voice. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Alvin”

“Thank you Alvin, I appreciate it” 

My dad took our photo, then joined in. 

Alvin and I. Smoke clouds the sought after view.

Crowds don’t last long in national parks. The parking lot is a coagulation of tourists, arriving to snap a picture for the gram, turn back to the car and leave to the next destination. I believe there is a distance from each parking lot where one can see crowd numbers reduced by 90% or more. Lake Lousie crowds reduced drastically once elevation gain was involved in the hike, say 200 meters from the lake shore. Crowds naturally regather at stops along the trails such as the Tea Houses or the Beehive, but many trails between the destinations consisted of an abundance of solitude. 

A smoke-marred view of the second Beehive and the absence of crowds.

The trail is ours, stepping stone to stone, admiring the trailside creatures who have been fed several too many times and of course….the human feces….Wait...WHAT?! Yes, that is what you read; We observed multiple instances of trailside human feces complete with toilet paper. 

A visitor leaves their feces in a body of running water…what a gem! Please, please please never do this.

The mountains are cast of age and power, no two peaks alike. A lake known for its glacial blue color rests several hundred feet below. The avalanche path ahead is overtaken by the densely packed spruce. And here, to my right, lies a pile of human shit. What a scene. 

Lake Lousie is loved to death. It’s visitors not accustomed to the outdoors wear shimmering sequin dresses, Louis Vuitton backpacks no larger than a cheezits box (their use comparable to a single pants pocket) and occasionally, the worst of all, is the person who carries a portable speaker 9km to the alpine tea house to serenade the rest of us with house trance that should have stayed in a club. 

Portable Bluetooth speaker with external charger for music all day at the alpine Tea House:/

What solutions exist? What could be done to mitigate the destruction of natural beauty while still allowing humans to experience such an environment? Is the Human, as a species, the ruin of the natural world? Surely we will find out within the coming century, if not sooner, as recently predicted by the International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). 

Lake Lousie is not the only place loved to death, Arches, Zion, Yellowstone and several other national parks around north america are also being hampered by the explosive growth of the crowds as stated in a release from NPR. Areas which can be incredibly sensitive and will not be able to sustain themselves if further abuse continues. 

Lines, previously contained to amusement parks, are now in national parks in order to take photos. Tissues, wrappers, cups and bottles are no longer an uncommon sight on the trail side. Bags of dog waste sit idly and forgotten on a log or rock. The presence of the modern day human cannot be escaped in the areas that were once intended for such an escape. So, what is it that we can do to aid in the return of the pristine landscapes that were tales of awe inspiring  wilderness? How do we mitigate the over-use of our beautiful parks? 

I have no solution, it is a task that is far over my head, but I have a feeling that the answer lies somewhere in education and emotion….along with some policy changes. I would not harm an area I respect and admire. If respect and admiration can be felt by all visitors then perhaps one day we will see clean trails, clean parks and happy people. We, as the visitors to the land, can release our suppressive stranglehold, learn to love the land and respectfully walk among it once again. 

What instances of overcrowding and littering have you seen outdoors? What, if any, solutions come to mind for over-crowded parks? Leave your comments below. 

Human Feces on the side of the trail, complete with copious amounts of used toilet paper.

Smiles a Mile High

I can picture a thousand photos, each containing a smile. The smile is much brighter than the dirty humans they are attached to. For whatever reason these people are happy. They have trudged up passes, climbed mountains, walked for hours with a heavy load. These are not easy tasks, surely enduring hardships, yet they all have smiles.

I can recall many times when I had an honest smile after a hard day of being outside, something about exerting oneself outdoors manifests happiness. A time not so long ago, I had chosen to wake up at 3:30 am in order to skin up Mount St. Helens on a fine spring day, accompanied by my wife and childhood friend. We pulled into the parking lot of Marble Mountain Sno-Park, a dark forest concealed the volcano which we were set out to climb. Various climbers prepared for the day about their cars, adhering climbing skins and squeezing their feet into cramped boots. 

We came upon the treeline rather quickly, moments before the sunrise and the mountain which we aimed to climb was revealed. Our perception of distance skewed against the white blanket of spring snow, the summit was not that far off…

The trees thin as we approach the tree line.

The sun lingered to the east, it was a cloudless day and the temperature rose. Solange and I had never attempted to climb a volcano before, let alone on skis. We were green on a field of white. Clothes were shed as we all began to sweat in the morning heat, soon we wore clothes only to protect our skin from the sun. 

We were not alone on our mission, there were several dozen other climbers attempting the summit this blue bird spring day. Some experienced ultralight climbers with crampons attached to their bag, and others who appeared had set out for a mountain twice as tall with 65 litre bags. A wonderful mix of folks for a summit bid, I felt we fit right in. 

Shortly after treeline we decided it would be time for a break, grab some food and assess our progress. We aimed for the last sapling to be seen before vegetation was absent from our trip. While sitting down for a snack we assessed our fitness and our feet. Our fitness was great, we all felt energized and motivated to reach the top. Our feet on the other hand were not as keen to continue climbing. Solange and Jeremy had formed, rubbed and popped blisters on their heels. We had a ways to go. Out came the first aid kit for some critical bandaging to prevent further rubbing. Luckily, from when I was in New Zealand, I had brought home Compeed, perhaps the finest blister care dressing available, at least to my knowledge. As I dressed the raw heels, passerbys commented that they would share their mimosas for a foot massage to which I replied “sorry, this is my last customer for the day”. We all laughed. Feet were once again squeezed into our boots and skis attached. We were on our way. 

The first spot for resting and foot care.

There is something about the rhythm of the skis gliding across the snow which I found to be soothing. The sure sound of progress that was hard to denote in a vast landscape. Our group spacing would expand far enough to make conversation difficult, leaving you to converse with yourself as you put one foot in front of the other. The conversation in my head was inversely related to elevation, the higher I got the less I thought about. I was more focused on my next step, and the next and the next. Soon I had resorted counting to five at which point I would restart and count again. We were approaching the summit, slowly. 

We rested at the base of the final climb. Watching other climbers take on the steepest slope yet with skis on their back wielding ice axes as they continued up the pitch. We had no ice axes with us, arresting a fall would be precarious and the odds of falling into others below were high enough that we explored alternatives. To the east the terrain was more gradual, it was not a direct route, but it would be much more manageable for our experience and gear. After much consideration, we opted for the longer, more gradual route. 

I was exhausted. Sweat poured from me as my overdressed body began to slow. I was stuck in my wool base layers and rain pants. The ambient temperature reached 60F [15C] degrees and the reflection of the sun was baking me. The taste of sweat filled my mouth, the feeling of it beading down my skin and soaking into my clothes. We were nearly there, 200 meters. After all the 1400 meters we had climbed, I was hurting. Every few steps my ski would slide back and I would fall on the warm snow. The summit was so near. I grew more fatigued with each step. The mental fight in my head was in round 5 of 5, in one corner the desire to summit and in the other, the rationalization to turn around. The view was probably the same anyways, right? 

The snow had warmed a significant amount. Each step had to be well thought out for the last 50 meters or I would slide down to repeat the last few steps. The slope began to taper off, each step now was confident as I rounded the last slope. Finally, the top. A quick glance around and I spotted a higher point to the west...shit. Luckily the path was mostly flat along the way, being sure to stay away from the edge and the cornices that shrouded them. 

Traversing the top

Our summit. There we were, all three of us. Smiling. We plopped down and took off our boots. I was more than thankful to be at the top, my water was nearly gone and my stomach growled for food. Jeremy passed a Snickers bar to both Solange and I, a true saint of the hills. We laughed and recounted our hardships of the last push for the summit as if it had been long ago. Descriptions of pain accompanied by vague narratives of locations. We gazed out from the summit enjoying our snacks, it was great to be here. 

Summit Selfie!

We took the time to gather ourselves, in no rush to return. The caldera of a once great volcano provided endless beauty, it was so raw and young (from a geologic perspective). Spirit lake could be seen in the distance, barred to all travel except from the scientists who studied the recovery of the area since the eruption in 1980. 

Spirit lake and Caldera

While at the top we learned that the climbers summit, which we were at, was not the true summit. The true summit was to the northwest and stood 25 meters taller than where we sat. Exhausted and mentally unprepared, we could not be bothered to traverse over, down and up. We were content with our so-called summit. 

Letting the feet breathe at the summit

We switched our ski boots from touring to ski setting, clipped into our skis, and began our vertical mile descent back to the car. Carving through the spring snow melted my sorrows, my pains and hardships, I felt truly alive. Having climbed a volcano, to ski it down could not have put a bigger smile on my face. I savored every turn as I passed people still climbing up. I earned my turns and it poured the essence of joy into my soul. 

Nearing the bottom

The GPS track and elevation profile of the climb.

Base: 824m(2703ft); Summit:2522m(8274ft); Distance: 17.2km(10.7miles)

Why I Love My Local Library

The Story of a Local Library

Golden District Library; 1 of 29 branches.

“Don’t forget to put some clear tape over the barcode on the small library card ” She interjected kindly “It’ll keep the barcode safe from the keys”. I understood the elderly woman frequented the shelves. 

“Oh, why thank you. I didn’t know that” I returned kindly, although I would not be attaching the small library card to my keys. I was finalizing my membership for the local library.

 A small, charming building nestled away in the midst of town. Distinctively adorned figurines lined the wheelchair ramp and children’s artwork adhered to the wall. It was a place of community, where the curious came to learn, the children were told tales of ole’, and senior citizens were taught how to use the technology of today. It is here where knowledge is gained, sharing is commonplace and kindness is not encouraged, but second nature. A place of refuge from distraction, the calm sounds of books reshelved, and a peculiar scent that reminds one that they are somewhere with purpose. It is mine, it is yours, it is ours. 

I love libraries. I have been a member of libraries in three different countries. To me, they are a resource for knowledge and peace. When I want to learn about a subject, I’ll look towards the library to supply me with material. In times of distraction, I’ll flee to the library to focus among it’s still shelves. Libraries are a place of grounding, they are comfortable. Although I may not be in my home country, the fundamental principles of a library remain intact. I can scan the shelves using the Dewey Decimal System in order to locate specific books or authors. Shelves are organized by genre, typically in rows totalling six feet tall. Although I have never stepped foot in the Golden Library before today, I felt familiar amid the shelving and tables. 

Just as I entered the library I was greeted “Hello, what can I help you with today?”. In a crusade for education, that question implies I have an ally in my higher pursuit. Where else am I able to step in a door as a stranger, sign up for a free membership, and access 1.5 million books, free wifi, magazines, CD’s, DVD’s and more? 

Nowhere. That is the answer. There is nowhere else that can provide you with so many amazing resources for free. The purpose of the library is to empower all of its citizens, to provide an opportunity to learn no matter your status, and to help all who enter with the intention of bettering themselves or others. 

Figurines festooned with yarns sit at the library entrance.

Why I’m a Library Member

As a library member I am able to borrow Ebooks and audiobooks for free, I do not subscribe to Audible nor directly pay for my books. From the inception of my book tracking in July 2019, I have read 78 books, a large portion (roughly 65) were in Ebook format. In order to have bought those Ebooks I imagine I would have spent around $650 dollars (Estimating a conservative $10 per book). I couldn’t afford to read those books had it not been for the library. 

When I worked in a food truck it was common to have a two hour break between split shifts. Standing for hours in a hot, greasy, and stressful environment I wished for nothing more than to unwind and rest. I would toss my backpack on and thoughtfully walk along the charming stream, cross the narrow wooden bridge and stop midway to admire the trout below. An intentional breath would send me on my way up a short cement staircase between two pillars, the automatic doors would open and the all too familiar scent of bound books poured over me. Tucked into a corner sat a small checkered armchair. I slid the chair to face the window and sank down without resistance. I quietly unzipped my bag and pulled out my book. For the next two hours I would be elsewhere, swimming between the pages as I took advantage of my temporary comforts and quiet moment of the day. 

Books and more books.

It’s Your Library Too

Have you been to your local library? When was the last time you went to a library? If you answered “no” and “unsure”, please take a moment and find out where it is (Click Here). It is a free resource that is often, and unfortunately, overlooked. What have you wanted to learn about but your access is limited or restricted because of costs? What are you curious about but don’t know where to start? Do you lack the space in your residence to confidently focus and learn? 

All the aforementioned can be solved by walking into your local library with the curiosity to learn, the courage to say “I don’t know” and proof of a local address. 

I am one example of a library member, reasons why I like the library differs from others who use it. Below I have listed out 12 reasons why your local library is helpful.

1. When the weather outside is unbearable, the library will have air conditioning or heating.

2. Librarians tend to be quite intelligent; They are great people to guide you in the right direction.

3. Often libraries will host events such as: Author meet and greets, workshops, and other activities. 

4. A library is a safe space.

5. Libraries have books in many formats for whatever suits your style.

6. Local Libraries are usually part of a regional library system; Just because your local library is small, doesn’t mean their resources are!

7. By having a limited amount of time to read a book (14-21 days) it encourages readers to beat the deadline.

8. Most libraries will have an opportunity to reserve a room for meetings or studying.

9. Free access to paid software. 

10. Learn technology and business skills.

11. You can sign up online, it’s easy.

12. You pay for the library with your taxes, you may as well use it!

Go and check out YOUR library! 

The workspace from where I finalized this post.