Lost lake

After only a quarter mile, mere steps, the crowds of summer visitors are gone. Not a soul, save for pine warblers and the chittering of red squirrels. The trail stretches out through the conifers and the shadows and silence remind us once again we are in bear country.

We're all happy to be in the backcountry again. Managing the students in town is a handful for us instructors - out here though everything makes a lot more sense and we operate as a team. It was only about a 6 mile hike to a backcountry campsite on the edge of Waterton National Park's boundary. A stream twinkles to serenade campers to sleep and a small ranger house stands nearby, occupied with a small coral of horses.

One of the hardest things about these courses is reigning in so many different duties, responsibilities, and individuals all at once. Teaching and logistics are the easy part. Managing people and group conflict is another thing. Luckily I have Casey to help me on that front and each time the groups starts to break apart she helps me bring us back together. Plus its good for all of us to find time to get away from each other when we can to stay sane.

So I hiked up beyond camp to a tiny lake called Lost Lake on the edge of the map near the BC border. Only a few students choose to come - some of my favorites. And it was an unexpectedly magical experience. Letting the deep silence of the forest settle over you away from everyone, punctuated only by whistles to warn bears. Following fresh moose tracks through melting snow banks ripe with blooming glacier lillies. Only to discover our Lost Lake, still and reflective as a mirror. Cold and honest as the bright blue sky.