7 September 2025 – Hodoo Trail & Spray Lakes West
I drove to the Hodoo Trail self-interpretive path in Banff and walked past the second Hodoo Viewpoint, pushing farther than planned. The air was hazy—smoke drifting from wildfires in BC, Idaho, and Washington—not crystal clear like I’d hoped.
The river valley opened up, and across the water, jagged silhouettes of distant peaks caught my eye—the Goat Range’s alpine crags and Mount Sparrowhawk’s imposing cliff face, both shadowy in the hazy light. I felt a mix of awe and frustration that my photos couldn’t capture the drama as others had.
After the trail, I drove to Spray Lakes West Campground, registered myself, and parked facing the lake opposite the iconic Three Sisters, prominently on one side of the reservoir. Beside them, another impressive mountain range loomed—the Goat Range, and most notably Mount Nestor, rising steeply at the south end of that ridge.
I also spotted Mount Sparrowhawk, a massive and rugged peak whose limestone cliffs tower at over 3,100 m. It’s visible from Spray Lakes and adds dramatic vertical texture to the scene.
And then there’s Mount Lougheed, with its distinctive triple summits peeking between the Spray Lakes and the nearby valleys—each summit with its unique elevation giving the ridge a stepped silhouette.
I walked the lakeshore, absorbing the mood: misty light, reflections muted, and the grandeur of those mountains still magnetic.
8 September 2025 – Lower Kananaskis Lake & Elbow Lake
I began the day with breakfast before driving to Lower Kananaskis Lake. I crossed over the dam,
reached the far parking area and followed the lakeshore briefly. The gravel path was uneven, and light worsened under the haze, so I turned back after a kilometer. Lunch by the car felt peaceful but still under that smoky veil.
Later, I ventured on the Elbow Lake trail. The old fireroad climbed steadily and led me into a broad alpine bowl. Light there was softer but still dreamily diffused. As I rounded the contours of the lake, emerald waters sat at the base of the cirque. The Mount Rae massif on the right — its angry-wave shape—posed against the sky, while the Elpoca massif on the left sloped gently into the blue.
I walked the full left arm of the lake, climbing slightly as the cirque walls rose beside me. The mountains on the far shore were gorgeously grand—angular ridges sculpted in ancient stone, softened by distance and haze. I lingered, heartened that despite the light, the alpine beauty still shone through.
Despite smoky skies and challenging light, the emotional richness of these hikes remains vivid in my mind. Every ridge and cirque spoke of geological history—and even photos that don’t match others in clarity still hold a story I lived.
Just a few miles further, I have seen this juwel.
