This morning, starting from the parking area by Highway 1, the trail immediately led me into a gentle but steady ascent through dense fir forest. For the first 1.4 km, the trees closed in around me, their shade offering a cool respite—even if the day would soon warm considerably. Through intermittent clearings I likely glimpsed the distant, jagged silhouette of Cathedral Mountain—not too far to the south—just as others had noted from this trailhead viewpoint.
When the forest finally eased around the 1.4 km mark, the trail transitioned into an inviting flat stretch of about 800 m. Here, I wandered through patches of open meadow, framed by wildflowers or soft grasses, with light filtering down from above—an almost surreal lull before the final push upward.
Then, as I resumed climbing, the sound of Sherbrooke Creek gradually reached my ears. The uphill felt steadier now, but then only around 350 m from the lake, the forest broke entirely and revealed the first serene glimpse of Sherbrooke Lake glistening beside the trail.
Sherbrooke Lake, that alpine gem, lay before me with its turquoise waters cradled by towering walls. To the west stood Mount Ogden, its broad slopes rising to an elevation of 2695 m—a rugged, amphitheater-like form of layered sedimentary rock, sturdy and broad-shouldered, evidently the western sentinel of the lake.
At the north end, Mount Niles (2972 m) perched further back, its sharper ridgeline visible in the distance, giving depth to the scene.
As I reached the lakeshore, I turned and walked along its edge. The mirror-glass water reflected the sky in shimmering patterns. Across the shimmering expanse, I could see Paget Peak to the east. Though not named explicitly in some sources, hikers often refer to Paget Lookout or Peak in this context—their lookout trail branches off early on this hike.
And then I stood in front of the Sherbrooks Creek Cascade. Than has been a nice suprice. Although I have seen much higher Falls, it impressed me with the wilderness around the Cascades.
My view reached beyond the immediate mountains, into the broader network of ice-and-rock. Above and behind these peaks, the immense Waputik Icefield loomed—an iceberg-like plateau feeding numerous glaciers such as the Daly Glacier, part of the extensive glacial system that sculpts Yoho and Banff landscapes. While the icefield itself didn’t appear in my shot, its presence is implicit in the sheer sculpted forms around me.
The air was unsteady—dizzying at times—and that warm air likely created a wavy haze, making my pictures slightly blurred, adding a dream-like quality rather than detracting from the view. The day itself felt warm—especially on those exposed lakeside stretches where the sun beat down, offering warmth, the trail narrowed really to a very small one
that made the hike memorable, though a bit sticky on descending.
Still, the combination of turquoise water, soaring peaks, and my own slow, deliberate passage along the shore created a scene of quiet grandeur. The walk along the lakeshore, though cut a bit short by high water in spots, invited lingering: every step offered a new frame of the mountains reflected back, described by many hikers as “gorgeous” and “quiet,” a welcome contrast to more crowded destinations like Lake Louise.
When I finally headed back, the descent through the shaded forest felt easier thanks to the warmth of my memory, warmed by the alpine lake and the grand peaks surrounding it. The steady uphill now reversed into a gentle easing of the legs, still framed by Ogden’s broad face and Niles’ distant spine.
In summary, my hike unfolded like this:
- A brisk uphill through forest where Cathedral Mountain teased I between the trees.
- A flat meadowed section that let my lungs settle before the final climb.
- A crescendo reveal of Sherbrooke Lake, emerald and alpine-calm, edged by Mount Ogden’s stately mass and Mount Niles’ sharper ridges.
- The Sherbrookes Creek crushed down in a Cascade to the Lake.
- All beneath the unseen but mighty Waputik Icefield and its glacial appendages feeding creeks and lakes alike.
Even with swirling air and too-warm sun, those views carved deeply into a warm memory—one perhaps better felt than perfectly captured in any photo.