Old Fort Point

A change of format here. Rather than using lots of photographs, I shall be taking a more descriptive approach to this walk (which is also part of why this one has taken a bit longer to write). If that's not your thing, I understand, feel free to skip this one. In the meantime, here we go!

On the far side of the railway and road, there is a small path past scrubland and pine forest. This path winds on through the spruce, pine and cedar that line the banks of the Athabasca River until it reaches a bridge, painted a dark and vibrant green that matches the waters of the river below.

On the far side of this bridge, at the base of a deeply wooded cliff, is a small carpark. And a set of wooden steps, but we shall ignore those for now. The carpark itself is not very interesting, as carparks seldom are, but it marks the start point of the majority of the good walks accessible from Jasper on foot. And the start of this walk is just to the left of those stairs that we're ignoring.

And straight away the path plunges into dense pine woods, full of a deep and primaeval atmosphere that swiftly banishes thoughts of anything so mundane as carparks or railways. Every gap between the trees is covered with a dense, soft, pale green moss. Just a minute or two along the path, around the second corner, a tumble of rocks and boulders lies to the right of the path, erratics from the glaciers that carved these valleys. There is clear space between the rocks, and small pines on top of the larger ones, creating a deeply sheltered atmosphere within this tiny clearing. It almost feels like a natural gazeebo or pagoda of some sort.

The first time that I walked this path I had a strange sensation regarding a difference between this and a typical English forest- particularly one such as the New Forest which, despite its name, has been inhabited and managed (to some extent) for more than a thousand years. These woods felt fresh and young, somehow, lacking the weight of history that I have always felt in the ancient forests of home. This initially seemed to be a very odd and inaccurate idea. Perhaps it was simply that the individual trees were younger, being a different species, but surely the forests had to be about as old, and have a similar history of human interaction, even if in a very different way. As it turns out, that first instinct was strangely accurate. I didn't know it at the time, but before the arrival of the Hudson Bay Company and their trading post, the area surrounding the five valleys and associated peaks had been considered too rugged and inhospitable for permanent habitation. As such, it had only been used for trade between the First Nations, which seems to have been (relatively) scarce before the influence of the European appetite for fur.
Given that the Old Fort for which Old Fort Point was named (more on that later) wasn't established until 1811, it would seem that this area of woodland has seen regular visitors for less than 200 years. All things considered, I think it's probably down to young trees and an interesting coincidence, but since it was one of the main impressions that stayed with me throughout the walk, I felt that I should mention it.

After a while, the path begins to rise as it winds its way towards the crest. On the right-hand side of the path the woods remain pine and spruce, while on the left the soil changes, and the trees give way to silver birch. A short way along this path there was a mutually surprising encounter between myself and a ruffed grouse, a very pretty and well-camouflaged bird which I quite failed to get any pictures of. A little further on from that, the path splits. A shorter, steeper route turns right into rocky ground, while a longer, gentler path continues in woodland ahead. The first time I walked this trail there was a small stream of meltwater running down from the longer path, which although very scenic did make it rather muddy going.

The two paths rejoin near a rocky outcrop just below the summit, and at the site of a remarkable change in terrain. Whilst the base of the cliffs are lush and green, the top of the hill is remarkably dry, with vegetation that puts me more in mind of southern France and the Mediterranean than anything else. I had the good fortune to crest this part of the hill at the same moment the sun finally broke through the cloud, and was greeted both with a burst of heat and light, and a fantastic scent of fir, cedar, and juniper.
A little way further on from this, there is a diversion to the right, and at the back of this rise are two red chairs, facing the mountains to the south of the town and hill. The view from this point is spectacular. Mountains stretch right across the horizon, and the forest that clusters at their bases create swathes of colour. The skeletons of bone-white birch, yet to burst into leaf, the ghostly grey of pines that have fallen prey to pine beetle, the reds and purples of those pines which have yet to succumb, and the green of spruce, fir, and cedar.

Turning back toward the town, the path descends again a little, then rises to a large rocky outcrop, the highest point on the hill. From there you get an excellent view of the river, town, and some of the surrounding lakes.

From here, the trail descends a grassy slope, frequented by the Bighorn sheep that inhabit the area.

After negotiating a narrow stepped path of cut and natural stone, the ground levels out and brings you back to the top of that staircase that we ignored at the beginning. From there, it's a short descent back to the carpark at the start of the trail. A very convenient ending to a wonderfully scenic and varied walk.

Now, that Old Fort that I mentioned. According to the book Jasper-Robson: A taste of heaven, by Don Beers, the point is named for Henry House. Henry House was definitely built about 20 minutes walk away from the summit in 1811, as a staging post for David Thompson's expedition of the Athabasca River. According to the plaque that stands at, or near, the site, it wasn't finally abandoned until 1830. According to the book, it was abandoned in 1814, and named 'The Old Fort' in 1817 by a man called Ross Cox as a joke, since even in its heyday it was little more than a shelter and storage shed, and a few years after that, no one could even find it any more.
Obviously, there is some contradiction here. Overall, I am more inclined to believe the plaque, but the version in this book is the only explanation I have found for the origin of the name.
Interestingly, Great Uncle Jack's notes have something to say on this, though as per usual they provide more questions than answers. There are several entries, all un-dated, as always, but I believe I have managed to get them in the right order. Which one comes first is pretty clear:

Construction has begun on another supply depot for a forthcoming expedition of the Athabasca River, by a bend in the river beneath the shadow of The Great Tower on the hill, which some call The Old Fort. In my opinion, it is ill-advised to build so near to the ancient Moonstone Spire. I have only just begun my investigations, but already have cause to believe that the Powers invoked by this structure are far from dormant.

...

It is with great sadness that I have learned of the disappearance of The Old Fort. I have searched the area thoroughly, manually and with all my most sensitive instruments. There is no trace of anything Electric, Magnetic or Gravitic, but there are signs of a great Aetheric eddy, through which it may have slipped. This shall require further study. I believe that whatever agency is behind this is also responsible for the disappearance of the Pyramid, and likely much else of that which has been lost.

...

Both structures are gone, now. Few people in town remember the latter, and none the former. Better that than it remain and be remembered, but better yet, perhaps, that we had left well alone. Even so, I wish that I had studied it better while I had the chance.

...

There is another entry that seems to be connected to the first, based on mentions of 'Moonstone' and towers, but... well, read it and see for yourself.

 From the outside, it bears a strong resemblance to the Round Towers of Ireland, being 20 feet across at the base, and sharing that unusual feature of a single arched door raised some 7 feet above the ground. There are no signs of windows or other features in the 50 feet of structure that remain. The upper portions have clearly been removed by some tremendous force, but as there is no sign of rubble or other ruins in the area, it is almost impossible to estimate the hight to which this tower once stood.
It is constructed of a smooth white stone, quite distinct from the sedimentary geology of the area. I have found no natural samples of this rock so far, and having no desire to damage this tower my study of it has been limited. In the tower, however, it exhibits a remarkable luminosity. Under moonlight, it seems almost to glow, though I suspect this is due to some manner of 'resonant reflection' rather than true luminosity.

Having procured a ladder from the nearby trading post, I have entered the tower. The thickness of the walls give me reason to believe that this tower may have been 140 feet tall, perhaps more. There is no indication of internal structure or furnishing.
I have made two observations which cause me to question the nature of this tower.
 The first is that from the inside, the walls appear to rise to a greater height than from the outside, and to end in a shattered dome, of which there is no sign from the exterior. It may be a trick of perspective, or the difficulty of taking measurements within the confines of the tower, but I would estimate the height of the walls from the inside to be 250 feet, if not more. 
The second is that from inside the positions of the stars appear to change. By day there is no sign of this phenomenon, and the sun tracks across the sky as one would expect. By night, I cannot find a single recognisable constellation from within the tower.

I await the baggage train which carries the rest of my equipment. Once it arrives, I intend to make use of my arc lamps, voltaic pile and mirror array to establish a luminiferous pentagram and then conduct further experiments.

You see what I mean. I haven't found any notes regarding those experiments or results yet, but I'll keep looking.

Lake Beauvert

Good news! I've finally made it out and about on a few walks around the local area. And here's a bit about the first one, around Lake Beauvert.

A beautiful blue-green glacial lake, just the other side of the Athabasca River from Jasper. The path from the town to the lake runs alongside the river for the majority of its length, though when I walked this route the river was mostly dry. Nevertheless, the path lined with spruce, pine and cedar trees and an abundance of squirrels was delightful. I certainly intend to repeat this walk with the river in full flow, whenever that happens.

There are three primary species of squirrel in the area. The American Red Squirrel, the Colombian Ground Squirrel, and the Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel. I'm fairly certain that I've seen at least one of each, though as one of the traits they seem to share is being difficult to photograph (as well as rather natty white eyeliner) I'm not entirely certain.

This one is definitely a Colombian Ground Squirrel 

And I'm pretty sure that this one's a Red Squirrel

I don't have a picture of the Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel, though I'm fairly confident that I've seen one. They look more or less the same as the red squirrels, but with some rather fetching black and white stripes down their sides. Perhaps that has something to do with why they go faster and are harder to photograph.
They are all surprisingly noisy creatures as well, and what I initially thought was unusual birdsong was, in fact, the chattering and squeaking of squirrels. And a very pleasant sound it is too.

There wasn't much else in the way of wildlife on this walk. There were a few Loons and Canada geese out on the lake, but no elk or bears or anything like that.

The remarkable green colour stems from finely ground particles of glacial stone, known as rock flour. These are ground up during the winter when the lakes and rivers are frozen and then released to float in the lakes and reflect the sunlight. Not only does this give a particularly clear and vibrant colour, but also one that shifts and changes with the light and viewing angle. It's also quite different from Great Uncle Jack's ideas about the place.

There are a series of lakes in the area of the proposed Lodge, of a most vibrant and remarkable hue. It is my theory that the colour of these lakes, being an intense green, must derive from a great concentration of dissolved copper salts. This would indicate that there must be a grand deposit of copper ore within these mountains, likely suitable for a grand mineworking. I shall begin work on the design of pitheads and the associated Engines, as soon as I am satisfied that the woods are free of Sasquatch, and the lakes free of Ogopogo.

All in all, it would seem to be just as well that he never got round to implementing many, or indeed any, of his plans for the Rockies, or there might not be much of them left. 

It might sound like a rather obvious thing to say, but the landscape is about as stereotypically Canadian as I could have imagined. While walking here I couldn't help but think of the old folk song 'Land of the Silver Birch'. No moose or beavers that day, but blue lakes and rocky shores aplenty. I hadn't really thought about it till then, but my expectations of what Canada should be like had been quite heavily influenced by that song and 'Asterix in America'. I'm pleased to say that reality does not disappoint. The landscape here is magnificent, and I shall show you more of it over the coming weeks.