In my first post, I talked about how a visit to Waterton Lakes National Park was the catalyst to writing a poem that would eventually become my first song. I won’t belabour a recap here, so if you’ve not read that, go give that a read, and I’ll see you back here in about seven minutes. I wanted to expand upon that to give you a clearer picture.
“The place I love burned to the ground”
I don’t have many remaining photos of my time at the camp, but very vivid memories of the various places we frequented. I’ll tell you about three of them today.
The first summer I worked at Canyon Church Camp, it was in 2004, in the early days of digital cameras. I remember buying one and, thinking myself some artsy fartsy photographer, I would take pictures of random things (like ice in a cup or close ups of grass) throw a filter on them and make them look like different. Sounds familiar doesn’t it? This was difficult to do on that old Sony Cybershot that resembled a grey brick and weighed about the same. I took a ton of photos at the camp throughout my four weeks there. Unfortunately, I left that camera unattended at the “Thirsty Bear”, the local water hole, and it was stolen. Stupid is as stupid does. I was pretty upset about it at the time, and definitely drank about it.
Waterton was like paradise to me, and was a perfect excuse to disappears from my fast food job in the city. The camp was about three hours southeast of where I lived in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, and the park itself is (or was…secret’s out now) a hidden gem in the Canadian Rockies. It’s nestled along the eastern border of BC and the Montana border to the south. It was the first “International Peace Park” as it shares land and transcends the border down into Glacier National Park.
Rollercoaster Hill
Getting out to camp was always an adventure. Just before you get into the village, you turn onto the Red Rock Parkway, which is a road that winds through the mountains and grassy meadows. It’s a really engaging drive, and you find yourself hoping and praying that there isn’t a slow tourist in front of you so you could hit a steep section of the road, dubbed “Rollercoaster Hill” as fast as you could to get that rising sensation in your tummy.
The road was also famous for its “bear jams”, a common summer traffic obstruction where wide-eyed tourists would block half of the single lane road to gawk into the hills to catch a glimpse of the many black bears that roamed the area. Like any traffic jam, this impatient city boy would get frustrated by it, especially if I was needing to get back to the camp after an afternoon break in the village.
The Most Anxiety-Riddled Water Play Activity
At the camp, we’d explore the surrounding area, usually with a long hike changing from week to week, depending on the age group, wide games, and “water play” activities to beat the Alberta heat. The highlight of these activities, in my opinion, was the natural waterslide at Coppermine Creek. One of the camp lifeguards stated that she hated Coppermine, because she was so filled with anxiety that someone would get hurt, and you’ll see why below.
A customary “creek crawl”, (wading through the shallow creek in water shoes, usually old runners for me, which might as well have been the iron boots from Ocarina of Time…) leads you to a “slide” carved into the creek bed. The counsellors would man the slide in three areas, one at the top, one in the middle, and the poor lifeguard at the bottom waiting for the would be sliders to enter the about five foot deep pool. Can you see why this caused her anxiety? Generally, kids enjoyed themselves and there were, miraculously, few injuries.
There was an art to Coppermine; a balance of technique and timing. From the top a camper would slide into a shallow pool that caused a jolt of water to go down the rest of the slide. The camper in the middle would then push off and ride this little wave for a smooth ride down to the pool below. Time it wrong, and you’re left with a bumpy, potentially painful butt buster. Time it right, and it’s like scissors gliding through wrapping paper (then someone dumping an ice bucket on you…)
A View From the Top
Waterton Lakes National Park is commonly referred to by a catchphrase “where the mountains meet the prairies”, which is fairly self explanatory. I didn’t realize this until we hiked up to the top of Mt. Blakiston on a Saturday that you could see this distinctly.
The mountain loomed large over the camp, and was the namesake of the valley and creek that ran adjacent to the camp. The hike was an intense one, especially due to the fact that the alcohol from the previous night sweated out through our pores. The hike was intense, scrambley and challenging. When I think of Waterton, this is what I imagine in my mind’s eye: this view from 2010.
“Blackened Hills, haunting beauty”
Upon my return in 2021 on the road trip with my daughter, however, I was not met with this view. For those that didn’t read the previous post, in 2017, Waterton experienced what was called the Kenow wildfire, which enveloped large parts of the park, including the camp and surrounding area. It was familiar, but foreign. As I wrote later that day “I didn’t recognize the road I’d traveled on a hundred times before.” The road was intact, but it felt wrong. What was once lush and verdant landscape looked like an army of burnt up matchsticks, mountains stripped bare of their glory.
“Still…”
“Folks go to where the wind blows, and the sun shines through the smoke. The creek rolls on through Red Rock Canyon, find a lighter yoke.” Red Rock Canyon is the end-of-the-read spectacle. The creek winds through the red rock (get it?) and is the perfect place for the aforementioned creek crawl. My then six-year-old daughter was delighted to take off her shoes, roll up her pant legs and venture into the cold, mountain stream.
Crandell Lake
The following summer, we returned to the park with my whole family, and hiked to another important place. Crandell Lake was a weekly mainstay at camp. It was located about 2 km (1.25 miles) from the camp. It was a great spot for water play, the occasional morning dip, and I can recall in my last year as a camper a remarkable campfire and vespers time at the lake under the incredible Waterton stars. True to form, the lake was spectacular and windy as all get out. I was happy to see a group of campers with young leaders (who looked like children themselves…am I getting old?) This made me hopeful for the future, as kids at camp were up at Crandell, and I hoped that they might feel the same joy that I felt from my camp experiences.
Thanks again for reading. This will be my last post about Waterton, I promise. If you’re interested I made a lyric video of “Fireweed” from some footage that I took in June 2024.
