The Prince of Playgrounds
LAKE LOUISE AND BANFF THE BENIGNANT.
"O stormy pines, that wrestle with the breath
Of every tempest, sharp and icy horns,
And hoary glaciers, sparkling in the morn,
And broad, dim wonders of the world beneath!
I summon ye, and 'mid the glare which fills
The noisy mart, my spirit walks the hills."
Generous indeed has been the Canadian Government in its reservation of National Parks in the Rocky Mountains. Beginning at Glacier, where the Selkirk Range impinges on the Rockies, and extending with slight breaks to the eastern foothills below Banff, stretch 5,730 square miles of forest reservation, a nation's playground for all time, and an alluring monument to the expansive and far-reaching policy of the Department of the Interior. It takes a big man to think in square miles, but blessed be the Fates that Canada in her Minister of the Interior has such a man.
This great forest reserve might he divided for convenience of nomenclature, like all Gaul, into three parts, the Selkirk Park clustering round Glacier at the western portal of the great continental backbone, the Yoho Park Reserve with Field as its pivotal centre, and the Rocky Mountain Park proper stretching from the Divide to that sheer wall which overhangs the Albertan foothills. This great continuation of national parks is stupendous in its extent, Seventy Switzerlands in One! Canada's Mountain Playground is twice the size of the famed Yellowstone. Year by year the Canadian Government makes accessible this heritage of the people, by opening up roads and cutting trails. Throughout this great area all birds and game are protected, while law and order are enforced by the Sentinels of Silence, the red-coated Royal Northwest Mounted Police.
Mt. Lefroy and Lake Louise, Laggan
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Before we reach Banff, we stop off at Laggan to take a run into Lake Louise and the Lakes in the Clouds, rare gems perched in the mountain side. Lake Louise we reach first, at the end of a two miles' drive from the station, and here, too, we find that Hotel of comfort that we have come to confidently look for at the accessible edge of every great manifestation of Nature along the world's scenic route that we have travelled. Beyond us and above is Lake Agnes, called of old by the Indians "The Goat's Looking Glass," with its incomparable view of the Valley of the Bow.
Lake Louise, the "Lake of the Little Fishes" of the Indian, is a deep-colored tarn between wooded slopes which sweep upward to barren cliffs above tree-line. Square across the Valley and beyond the Lake rises a giant of the continental watershed, Mt. Victoria, rich with brilliant ice-fields, but the Lake draws our wandering eye back to its contemplation. At every season, every hour, most alluring is that
"Haunted Lake, among the pine-clad mountains,
Forever smiling upward to the skies."
Whether in springtime when the green leaves fringe it with their fresh-won life, or in summer's full effulgence, or under the spell of autumn's crimsoning fingers, its compelling charm varies but does not diminish. But it is in winter that it most wins us, its expanse of mystic white striking us with solemn awe the while it uplifts us from the littleness of the world of men and striving. Its brilliant bosom of ice makes then a striking contrast to the dark forests and shadowy encircling cliffs.
In the sunset hour, too, when every pinnacle and feature of its craggy sides silhouettes on the sky-line, with every bough and feathery tip of fir standing out in clearest detail, its wondrous beauty grips us. Later still, when the middle distance is a soft mystery, and the glow fades and the stars come out in advancing squadrons, we linger by this witch-lake, loath to leave its weird charm. Round the margin of the lake cluster flowers which refuse to be exterminated by all the thoughtless greed of daily visitors. Yellow violets are here, with the anemone and a pleasing number of greenish orchids. There are ladies' tresses, too, with the hardier shrubs, red-flowered sheep-laurel, the white tufts of Labrador tea, and the inconspicuous catkins of that beauty-thing the scrub-birch with its long black spines and small rounded leaves.
The coloring of Lake Louise is that robin's-egg blue which the scientist tells us is due as is the sky's blue to infinitesimal particles of matter held in suspension. The nights here are always cool, and the days a clear delight. But we press on to Banff with its wealth of glaciers.
"Those silent cataracts of frozen splendor
Singing the eternal praise of God."
BANFF, THE BEAUTIFUL.
Banff is essentially a place for loafing—the leisure life and not the strenuous. Delightful drives and walks invite in every direction; the river beckons, and each day gives an objective point of pleased and varied surprise. The wooded valley of the Spray, Lake Minnewanka, and weird Sundance Canyon are accessible by foot-path, and the Hot Springs tempt tired limbs daily. It is an embarras de richesses. The determined mountain-climber finds some interesting ascents in the immediate neighborhood of Banff, and it may be made the starting point to Mt. Assiniboine, the most fascinating peak in all Canada, the Matterhorn of North America.
One may spend a summer in Banff, and never weary. The beauty of things here is that all the interesting places are easily reached by road or trail. Within the radius of one mile are the Bow Falls, Tunnel Mountain, and the Cave and Basin. Within three miles away from the heart of things are the Hoodoos, Cascade Mountain, Stoney Squaw Mountain, Vermilion Lakes, the animal paddocks and Rundle Mountain. Of this last attractive point tradition has a pretty story to tell. The peak was named after Mr. Rundle, a missionary who worked among the Indians with such zeal and gentle kindliness some sixty years ago that they say of him, "Poor he came among us, and poor he went away, leaving us rich."
Rundle Mountain
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Four miles from Banff proper are Anthracite, Bankhead and Sundance Canyon with Cascade Canyon seven miles away, and Minnewanka eight.
Banff is beautiful, but it is also beneficent. The Mineral Springs and Sulphur Baths are curative, and the breezes that blow over Banff have healing in their wings. The devout have called the mountains of Banff "The Hills of the Lord." And true it is that
"They are nurseries for young rivers,
Nests for the flying cloud,
Homesteads for new-born races,
Masterful, free and proud.
The people of tired cities
Come up to their shrines and pray;
God freshens again within them,
As He passes by all day."
THE VILLAGE IN THE HILLS.
The whole of the site of the little town of Banff is the property of the Dominion Government. Public improvements of every kind are being yearly carried on to the advantage of permanent residents and summer visitors. Banff streets are broad and well kept, the homes are designed with taste, and the whole village exhibits an air of solid comfort and sylvan leisure. The stores are well supplied with campers' necessities, family supplies, photographic material, and the latest triumphs in fishing-tackle. There is an excellent public school which carries its pupils up to and through High School work. Families come to Banff prepared to enjoy the whole of the long, cool summer.
HOTELS OF LUXURY.
There are hostleries for every taste and purse. The best Hotel is that of the Canadian Pacific Railway, hung high above the Valley of the Bow, where it joins the Spray and deflects with an abrupt turn eastward. This Mountain Inn of Ease commands a view unrivalled in the world. The interior arrangement of the Hotel is most ingenious. An octagonal rotunda reaches to the roof, and surrounding this are successive galleries over-arching one another, so that a guest can walk from his own room and gaze down at those gathered below. The summer sojourner here tells in his hot office for a year afterwards of the magnificent outlook from the dining-hall and of the orchestral music that lulled his ears as he discussed Banff's cuisine.
On the banks of the Bow is the Banff Sanitorium, crowded by those who seek pleasure and pastime as well as those who come to build up their bodies by healing draughts from those hot springs gushing from the base of Sulphur Mountain charged with curative qualities.
HOT SPRINGS.
It will be of public interest to subjoin the chemical analysis of the hot sulphur water at Banff. The analyst of the Canadian Government officially says, "The water is free from organic impurities and gives no albuminoid nitrogen. Each gallon contains dissolved sulphuretted hydrogen to the amount of 0.3 grains (equivalent to 0.8 cubic inch).
"The dissolved solids are as follows:—
Chlorine (in chlorides) 0.42 grains. Sulphuric Acid (SO3) 38.50 grains. Silica (SiO2) 2.31 grains. Lime (CaO) 24.85 grains. Magnesia (Mgo) 4.87 grains. Alkalies (as Soda, Na2O) 0.62 grains. Lithium A decided trace.
"The temperature of the spring is 114.3 degrees Fahrenheit."
Buffalo at Banff.
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Wapiti, or Elk, Banff Zoo.
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A MOUNTAIN MUSEUM.
The Dominion Government with characteristic educative enterprise has placed high up in this Nation's Playground a museum of national pride and international interest. The Banff Museum contains splendidly preserved specimens of the big game and lesser mammals, the fish life, and bird life, to be found within the Park; a beautifully mounted and correctly classified herbarium is also here. Indian relics are shown and specimens of Indian workmanship of more than ordinary interest. For years the official in charge has kept a record of temperatures at this altitude, and his meteorological charts repay examination by all who are interested in weather conditions. To the botanist, the geologist, and the naturalist, the Museum is the central point of interest throughout the summer season, and the exhibits attract the layman as well as the man of science. The Banff Museum has been called by appreciative visitors "The University in the Hills."
BUFFALO AND ELK.
A band of nearly one hundred buffalo, relic of the countless thousands which swarmed over the great central plains of North America until swept away by the tide of civilization, occupy a park near the town and railway station. With them are a number of elk, the grandest and most beautiful of the deer family, together with many other specimens of the wild life of the northern plains and woods, living in their natural state and in surroundings which add to the charm and interest of their presence.
POINTING PEAKS.
From the summit of Tunnel Mountain, which is 1,000 feet above Banff, a very good idea of the surrounding region may be had. The Bow River comes from the northwest, passes through the little town of Banff, and after forcing a passage through great mountains, flows east to the plains which are concealed by intervening ranges.
Southward for many miles is seen the green Valley of the Spray River, an unbroken forest-mass enclosed by long ridges, one peak of which, Mount Rundle, is nearly 10,000 feet high, and towers a mile above the Bow. To the northeast we catch a glimpse of the end of Minnewanka Lake beyond a series of gravel ridges, relics of the Glacial Period. Behind the C.P.R. Station, Stoney Squaw lifts up its swelling rounded back with cliff-like buttresses. Above this is the time-worn pyramid of Cascade Mountain scarred and ribbed "by time and tempest.
Flanking the Bow to the west is the splendid dolomite peak of Mount Edith and the Sawback Range. We must remember that all summer long these skyey peaks are over-arched with a heaven of deep unfathomable azure, the whole being held in an envelope of air purified by forest and frost and full of the invigoration of ozone. It is the largess of Nature, supplemented by the energy, initiative, and enterprise of man. For a summer of uplift and enjoyment Banff is without compeer, it has no rival.
We have passed from Pacific shores across the backbone of the continent, the great Sea of Mountains. In our whole journey we have not endured a single privation or discomfort. All the luxury of the most modern sleeping-cars and palace-cars has been ours. Indeed, much of the scenic beauty we have enjoyed without passing from sight of the world's greatest railroad artery whose rustic chalets and cosy hostleries have kept us in comfort and unostentatious luxuriousness. In truth, the material comforts have rivalled the wonder-scenery in that compelling charm to hold which has caused us to lengthen our holiday to its utmost limit.
Valley of the Ten Peaks, Laggan.
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Town of Banff—Tunnel Mountain.
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Dropping down the mountains from Banff we find ourselves in the baby-Province of Canada, Infant Alberta, the Land of Promise Fulfilled, with its rich oil fields of Pincher Creek, its swelling metropolis of Calgary, and the beauty-capital of Edmonton high up on the banks of the silver Saskatchewan. Ahead of us lies Winnipeg, the Buckle of the Wheat Belt. But we must leave it all, leave it with an enduring peace which has filtered into our souls through these delicious days spent together in the everlasting hills. Taking leave each one of his fellow,
"We pray the prayer that the Easterns do,
May the Peace of Allah abide with you;
Wherever you stay, wherever you go,
May the beautiful flowers of Allah grow.
Through days of labor, and nights of rest,
May the Love of Allah make you blest!
So I touch my heart as the Easterns do—
May the Peace of Allah abide with you!"
Vice-President, Canadian Women's Press Club.
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