Maligne Canyon

Post-lunch we were all looking for something nearby and easy, so as not to jostle the large lunch.  We settled on the very touristy Maligne Canyon.  The drive there was scenic, but surprisingly short on bighorn sheep.

We parked between the coaches and rental cars and headed down the path.  I think we had all seen it before, bar Mark and Adele, but it still made an impact.  I think Fiona did a wonderful job of capturing the movement of the water and the colour of the rocks.  We just took our time strolling down past the fourth bridge and enjoyed the sunlight filtering through the lodgepoles.  They really should find a way to do something about the fact that every trip down into the canyon must be followed by a trip back up.  But we toughed it out, carrying several of the layers we had put on that morning when things were significantly cooler.

Fiona, Adele and I drove back to the campsite together and came upon a mother elk and her calf feeding on the long grass at the side of the road.  We got quite close as we passed them in the car, but they seemed intent to keep on feeding, concentrating more on flicking away the slightly more irritating mosquitoes with their big ears.  We would see these two again the next day.

We cooked burgers on the firepit that night, and another batch of marshmallows were skewered and roasted for their sins by Adele.  The campsite was a well-oiled machine at this point with everyone taking turns fetching water, doing dishes, clearing up and fetching the long pole to knock the badminton birdie out of the tree.  We played a 'friendly' game of Tick, which had to be called because of darkness.  I won't record who won or lost, as the Brooymans family tradition tends to disregard details like that.

A good night's sleep was well earned - more so perhaps by the three mountaineers who had gone up Whistlers, but a full day in the great outdoors tends to knock you right out.  It did help that those in the tent-trailer had figured out that the little ceramic heater could be kept on all night.  The hum of the heater did play a guilty little tune to my ear, thinking about those brave volunteer tenters tucked in their sleeping bags.  Know that your sacrifice was appreciated!