How to Fail on Your First Hike

In Alberta there are said to be numerous cults: the people who never left their hometown, the horse-girls, ravers, pyramid schemers, and hikers. I constantly drowned in a sense of not belonging, constantly feeling like an outsider no matter what environment I was in. Logically, I decided the best way to find my place in the world would be to join one of these ‘cults’. I couldn't find enough interest in drugs or beads to be a raver. And I couldn’t afford horses. And even though I had the muffin top of a new mother, I didn’t have the persistence to be a pyramid schemer. To me, it became an obvious choice, join the hiking cult! Within a couple of days I called my friend, and we were on a journey of epic fails and public embarrassment!

This particular hike boasted beautiful ice caves on the side of a mountain that were brilliant at any time of the year. It was even rumored that one of the caves housed a waterfall. We strapped on our inadequate runners and stopped to get a quick coffee on the way. Basically, everything you need for a trip out to the wilderness.

The hike began with a flat gravel road, but it was ‘only’ four to five kilometers each way. It started on a pretty outrageous note. I have always had a fear of defecating anywhere besides my house. Even when I lived in an apartment, if I could hear people in the hallway my entire body would freeze. However, on this semi-populated hike, my body decided to utterly disregard this fear and demand immediate rejection. I literally ran across the creek to find a secluded place to die. As I held on to a branch for dear life, I could hear the distant murmurs of my possible victims. Through sweat and tears I was able to finish and run away before anyone had caught me in the dirty act. I was just thankful that my friend had a particularly bad season of nosebleeds and was sporting around a roll of toilet paper, or else this story would have had a much more tragic twist of dunking my butt in an ice-cold creek about two inches deep. Thankfully, I only had to use that creek to wash my hands.

Our adventure continued! And now my body was truly free of toxins and I was prepared to participate in the astounding outdoor exercise experience that is Rocky Mountain hiking. Still, we were on a graveled road; one that had clearly been driven on on a semi-regular basis. I understood why so many reviewers recommended bringing a bike.

After a decent length of time of mediocre views we finally began to be surrounded by massive rock faces. One person was rock climbing. High enough that (if I had not cleared myself out earlier) almost made me s*** myself. He was at least 60 feet up, just scaling the wall as he pleased. Now that my terror levels had adequately risen we began to hear whistling.

Considering I have been a female my entire life, I am keenly aware that whistling is often associated with pleas for help. I kept tossing my head around as whistles appeared to surround us. The family in front of us seemed completely oblivious to these repetitive whistles. My concern continued to grow as we moved further. My mind raced, imagining a girl on the forest floor, her bone piercing her skin, just too far to get mobile service.

This is the day that I learned that marmots whistle. The entire time it was little fuzzy animals yelling at each other.

‘Pro’-tip, if you get stranded and are trying to use a whistle, whistle in threes. Because if not, you sound like a marmot. And not everyone is as oblivious to the sounds of common animals as myself.

We continued our valiant trek until we reached some type of power plant. There was a small, unmarked trail right before it; we had finally reached the beginning of the uphill adventure. We began this part exceedingly strong; we both courageously hid our struggles to breathe as the mountain steepened. When we saw the family was now only slightly in front of us, we made sure to exert our dominance by striding forward. Now that there was no one ahead of us, we could be the independent hikers we knew we were at heart.

When the family was finally far enough behind us, I keeled over and attempted to catch my breath. While I leaned on to my knees, akin to the sight of an elderly man getting up from a chair, my friend treaded on forward to see which direction we should go. She made the astute observation that the trail ended. Thankful that she had taken the extra steps while allowing me to regain the ability to become human, we began to venture up the steep path. Any breaths that I had gained were quickly lost as we pushed ourselves up this questionable incline. The more elevation we gained, the sketchier the terrain became. No longer dirt under our feet, but shale that insisted on moving. We kept trying to examine the peak, thinking that we must be close, and that it must be worth it. If we died, at least we would die as rugged hikers.

The family, with their offspring of billygoats, had begun to catch up to us. Honestly, it was somewhat of a triumph to hear other people struggling as we had. The terrain became so unstable, they seemed to turn back. We sat and snacked as we watched them cower down the mountain. We also chose this moment to discuss how in the hell this hike was labeled as ‘easy’. This became glaringly clear as we watched the family backtrack, finding the proper path. With a healthy amount of swearing, we started our journey back down the mountain.

We knew exactly what fork we were looking for. And yet, we managed to walk completely past it. Far enough that we were able to once again get mobile connection to remap out our adventure.

The way we took to return to the proper trail was fairly steep. We were once again sweating, heaving, and had our stomachs bare to the world. Nothing breaks your confidence quite like a group of teenagers breathlessly passing you wearing jeans and sweaters. Jeans! I could barely survive in my sports leggings. It was in this moment that I truly felt like the adult that I am. It was bulls***.

From the relatively easy path, we could spot the way up to the caves! We were almost there, and my excitement seeped through. We pushed onward to this clearly beaten path. Our hike would be done in a pinch.

I am not sure if you have gathered from the tone yet, but it was not the right path.

We could see the family at the very top, and gauging by their size, the caves seemed a lot further than they were when we had begun our ascent. They were basically ant sized and mocking us with their existence.

As the wall became steeper and steeper our pulses rose. My friend was trying to ask me for the best tips on how not to fall to her death. I stayed light and aloof by telling her to lean into the mountain, it was just her head making the fall seem greater than it was. On the inside I was having a complete heart attack, and she was just lucky that my vibrating fingers were out of her view. Every now and then a rock would slide from under our feet to truly impress upon us how far down our fall would be. It was extremely comforting.

As we were near the top we could hear the conversations of people beside us. They were leisurely walking on the path about thirty feet to the right of us. Trying to scope the situation, we analyzed the distance between us and the path, and us and the caves. Both seemed equally life threatening, so we continued on.

Finally, we were in what was supposed to be the only actual hard part of the hike, the last bit of scramble. Fortunately, considering we were just basically rock climbing, this was not overly difficult. The fact that we were out of breath was, however, quite obvious. A young man and his father had begun their descent and the young boy (maybe about five) thought it would be an appropriate time to laugh at how frightened we seemed. We got roasted by a five-year-old.

I wished the pain upon him of a terrible math teacher. Feel my vengeance.

Now that we were in the mouth of the cave we were overcome by adrenaline and limp legs. I wish this story ended with me telling you how beautiful and inspirational the ice caves were. But instead, we ate our dinner and laughed at our absolute incompetence. From the mount we peered in to see how far it would be, on exceptionally uneven footing, to this breathtaking view. We decided it would be best to come back, and for the love of life just to go back down the mountain.

For the record, when you take the correct pathway, it’s actually quite enjoyable. Not too steep, just an enjoyable path. We took the harder ways only to push ourselves and improve our physical fitness. At least that’s what I had to tell myself as we basically skipped down the rest of the mountain.

This was my first real hike in the attempt to join the hiking cult of Alberta. And as much as it would have been easier on my knees, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Except the p**ping part, I could have done without that. This hike began my summer of self-journey. I have been able to see great swathes of Alberta’s beautiful backcountry, and push myself in ways I had no longer believed possible. One thing that did not change was our inability to follow a map; but at least that means I have more stories.

Location: Canyon Creek Ice Cave Trail

Kananaskis, AB