The next morning, we were up bright and early again, ready to more adventure.  We had yet another fun hike planned for the day, as we were going to do the Plain of the Six Glaciers Trail. 

This was a hike that I couldn't wait to do after reading about it, mainly because of the trail's destination: the Plain of the Six Glaciers Teahouse.  John, too, couldn't wait to hike that trail, but not because of the teahouse; he wanted to get to the Six Glaciers overlook, at the end of the trail.  That said, we decided that we were all going to hike to the teahouse together; then, John would leave us there while he finished the trail and come back to get us once he was done.  He was also considering hiking to the Devil's Thumb and to Lake Agnes on the way back, but that would depend on how the day went.

The best time to hike the Plain of the Six Glaciers Trail is first thing in the morning; that is due to the fact that it is one of the most popular trails in Banff National Park.  On any given day during the summer, the trail is visited by hundreds of hikers who make the teahouse their destination.  Being early-risers, then, certainly had its advantages, because we could be there before the majority of the other hikers were out of bed.

The trailhead for the Plain of the Six Glaciers is located at the Fairmont Château Lake Louise, another one of the three five-star resorts to be found in the Canadian Rockies.  Located next to Lake Louise, within the village of the same name, the Château Lake Louise is a grand, luxurious palace with a rich history.  Like the Banff Springs Hotel, the Château Lake Louise was built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad as a railway hotel but soon became a resort catering to the wealthy. 

We left Johnston Canyon around 6:30 a.m., to ensure that we arrived at Lake Louise as early as possible.  To get there, we took Highway 1A to Castle Junction, where we connected with the Trans-Canadian Highway.  True, we could have taken 1A all the way to Lake Louise, but the Trans-Canadian Highway was must faster, being a divided highway.  What we learned, however, was that the Trans-Canadian Highway was under construction north of Castle Junction.  When finished, that section of the highway would become a divided expressway; but for now, it was only a two lane highway, with a much slower speed limit.  Since it was still early in the morning, we didn't have to worry about workers being present and traffic tie-ups due to construction; later in the afternoon, however, we knew it would be a different story.

At 7:00 a.m., we arrived at Lake Louise and pulled into the public parking lot, two-tenths of a mile from the trailhead.  Once we were parked, we grabbed our Camelbaks, hats, and cameras - even the Nikon D80 - then started walking to the trailhead.  We should have taken our jackets with us, too; although it was warm enough when we were in the parking lot, in full sunshine, it was cold in the shade.  As a result, Mary didn't get off to a good start, because she kept complaining that she was cold.

Our hike began on the banks of Lake Louise, which looked like glass on that peaceful morning.  The trail started out on a paved path that skirted the edge of the lake.  It was a nice, flat walk and pleasantly quiet because of the early hour; there were very few people out that morning.

As we got started, John found that he was still suffering some of the ill effects from yesterday's hike on Cosmic Ray Road.  Somehow, he had damaged his foot during the five-mile, 2,000 foot descent from Sulphur Mountain.  Every few steps sent pain through his foot.  It obviously wasn't broken - otherwise, it would hurt on every step - but it was painful enough to make him second-guess his plans to hike the Devil's Thumb.  He would have to play that by ear.

The first two kilometers of our hike followed the banks of Lake Louise, where we enjoyed some intermittent sunshine to keep us warm.  As we reached the end of the lake, though, we were back in the shade again, where it was crisp and cold unless we kept moving.  That was also where we began our climb - the 1,300 foot climb towards the teahouse, over a distance of roughly 2.4 miles (or 4 kilometers).  Soon enough, we were sweating, even in the cold shade.

The higher we climbed, the fewer trees we encountered.  Although we were not above the treeline, the trail was very much exposed as though we were.  This was yet another reason why we enjoy being early risers; later in the afternoon, that part of the trail was going to be very hot, but we were going to be done hiking long before then.  For now, the warm sunshine was a welcome change from the cold shade.

About halfway up the trail, we began to encounter snow, left over from last winter.  The trail itself did not have snow on it, but there were patches of snow in various places along the way.  There was one patch in particular that was on a moraine, about fifty feet below the hiking trail; it appeared to have tracks on it, as though someone had been hiking on it.  It turned out that that was the horse trail; John suggested that Mary and I take that path on the way back, just to say that we got to hike in the snow in the middle of July.

Above that patch of snow, the hiker trail traversed a narrow ledge - perhaps ten feet wide - that had sheer fifty foot drop down the left-hand side.  To avoid the cliff, Mary and John and I walked against the wall on the right, where there was a cable that could be used by the faint of heart.  Mary insisted on using that cable, for one of her friends had put it into her head that she was going to fall off of a cliff while she was in Canada.  She really wasn't in any danger of falling down the cliff, but whatever made her feel safer...

Once past the cliff, the trail began to climb very steeply up an exposed scree slope.  Along the way, we found barricades and machinery, hidden under a tarp, on a path that ran parallel to the hiking trail.  Obviously, the park service was doing some trail maintenance there; we were so early that we had arrived before the workers!

At the top of the scree slope, the trail began a series of switchbacks, until, at long last, we arrived at our destination: the Plain of the Six Glaciers Teahouse!  We had made it!

Built in the 1920's as a refuge for explorers and railway workers, the Plain of the Six Glaciers Teahouse is still in operation today and serves as one of many backcountry teahouses in the Canadian Rockies, catering to hikers, backpackers, and casual tourists.  At the beginning of the season, in May, propane and dry goods are flown in by way of helicopter; and every five days, fresh supplies are brought in by horse when the next shift of workers arrive.  The workers live there five days at a time, in small cabins next to the two-story log teahouse.  During their shift, they serve up such delights as fresh soup, sandwiches, and hummus, as well as hot beverages - coffee, tea, and hot chocolate.  They also have chocolate cake, baked in a propane oven.

When we arrived, at 10:30 in the morning, we sat down on the patio on the second floor and ordered up a bowl of soup for John and two well-earned pieces of chocolate cake for Mary and me, as well as some hot drinks: hot cocoa for Mary, and a mocha for me.  And there we sat and enjoyed the quiet morning, high up in the mountains.  We were all elated that we had made it to our destination, 3.8 miles one way from the car.

It didn't take long for our food to arrive, and it was all delicious.  John's soup was hot and fresh; and our chocolate cake was moist and sweet...and a full two inches thick!  We enjoyed every bite.  And the price was right, too; the bill and the tip came to $20 Canadian - about what I would expect to pay for a backcountry teahouse lunch.

After he finished his soup, John left us at the teahouse so that he could finish hiking to the Plain of the Six Glaciers Overlook, which was still another mile away.  While he was gone, Mary and I lingered at the teahouse, enjoying our chocolate cake and drinks and playing with the resident squirrels and chipmunks that frequented the teahouse, looking for handouts.  Of course, Mary and I knew better than to feed the animals - feeding wildlife only endangers them - but we did get some great pictures of them as they scampered around the patio, feeding on crumbs.  One of the squirrels went inside the teahouse, where the workers were cooking.  Mary was amused by that, but the staff didn't seem to mind at all.

Mary and I also spent some time watching a Clark's Nuthatch - a tan-gray bird with black-tipped wings, who chirped rather loudly from a nearby tree.  The nuthatch flitted from one tree to the next, every now and then alighting on the porch of the teahouse to see if he could steal a crumb or two from someone's lunch.  He was a rather interesting bird, and Mary and I had fun trying to photograph him.

One of the highlights of the morning, though, was hearing the sound of white thunder - the sound of a glacier calving.  This was something that Mary had never heard before; for me, it was a sound that brought back fond memories of the time I spent in Glacier Bay National Park in Alaska, on the cruise ship.  I pointed out to Mary that a piece of the glacier had broken off and crashed down onto the mountain below; the piece was probably the size of a large van or a small house.  We heard this sound two or three times while we were at the teahouse.

After about an hour or so, Mary and I paid our bill and left the teahouse to wait for John by the bridge.  He arrived shortly thereafter with quite the story to tell. First of all, he told us that he was glad that we didn't go with him to the overlook; Mary would not have done well on that trail.  It was full of slippery scree and was a little scary.  When he finally arrived at the overlook, he sat for a while and enjoyed the scenery; he was also fortunate enough to see the glaciers calving!  We heard it; he got to see it.

John took a few minutes to rest from his hike; and I returned to the teahouse to buy souvenir T-shirts for all three of us - something to commemorate our beautiful afternoon there.  Then, once John was ready, we began our return hike, to Château Lake Louise.  And just in time, too, because the traffic going to the teahouse was becoming quite heavy.  Many times along the way, we had to step aside to allow large groups of people pass.  We were quickly learning that having the perfect vacation in the Canadian Rockies was all about timing, and so far, we had it.

The most difficult part of our return hike was when we had to make our way down the steep scree slope, where we had seen the machinery.  As we hiked down the hill, we noticed that there were three park service employees out working on the trail construction; one was operating the machine, and two others were moving rocks.  This was something that we found hilarious. When hiking rocky trails, we have often joked with Mary about "who put these rocks here on this trail?"  Her response has always been, "The ranger!"  Now we had proof!

At the bottom of the screen slope, we came to the junction with the horse trail, which went over the snow pack.  Taking this trail would mean that we could avoid that cliff; and with the steady stream of traffic on the trail, that seemed like a good idea.  Mary and I decided to take the trail through the snow pack, despite the fact that I just don't do well hiking through snow.  (Case in point: Mount Humphreys.  Need I say more?)  John, on the other hand, was going to stick with the main trail and connect with the Highline Trail; he was going to hike to Lake Agnes after all, but he was seriously thinking of skipping the hike to the Devil's Thumb.

Hiking through the snow pack proved to be a lot more fun than I had expected.  The snow was just slushy enough that it crunched underfoot and wasn't slippery at all.  Mary giggled the whole time as she walked across the path; it isn't everyday that she gets to walk on snow in July, after all!

With John off on his own, Mary and I now had to hike back to Château Lake Louise by ourselves...well, sort of.  Being on a hiking trail as popular as that one, we were never alone.  Along the way, we stopped and talked to many people, most of whom were tourists like us.  We met people from all over the world: Americans, British, Germans, Canadians, French, Hindu, and so on.  Most of them were impressed that Mary had made it all the way to the teahouse; I explained to them that she is an experienced hiker despite her young age. 

It was very warm during our return hike - much warmer than we had expected.  We learned that we were in the beginning of a heat wave in Alberta; over the next week, temperatures were going to be in the high eighties, with no rain in the forecast - unseasonably hot and dry.  Apparently, we had brought the hot Arizona weather with us to the Canadian Rockies.  Of course, it wasn't nearly as hot as it was in Arizona; it was one hundred fifteen degrees the day that we left.  Eighty-five degrees may be hot, but it was still a welcome relief from the convection oven that we call home.

Around 1:30 in the afternoon, Mary and I found ourselves back at the mouth of Lake Louise, at the point where the glacial river flowed into it.  That was where we had discovered what John called a "cairn factory": a series of rock piles on the banks of the river.  (John had told Mary that this was where they built cairns and shipped them off to hiking trails all over the world.  She didn't believe him, of course.)  We later learned that these cairns were called "inukshuk" (pronounced "i-nook-shook"), an Inuit symbol for a safe journey.  We would soon see these "cairn-people" all over the place, especially in gift shops and on T-shirts, as the Inukshuk was going to be one of the symbols of the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, BC.

Once we were back at Lake Louise, we only had two kilometers (1.2 miles) left to hike...but those would be the longest two kilometers of my life.  The traffic on the trail near the lake was incredibly heavy; and Mary was very tired.  She had already hiked nearly seven miles; by the time this hike was over, it was going to be her longest day-hike ever, at 7.6 miles.  (The longest hike she had ever done before that was seven flat miles in Congaree National Park in South Carolina, in 2008.)  Her fatigue was completely understandable.

We stopped briefly for breaks near the cliff walls, so that we could watch the rock climbers at play.  There were several groups gearing up for a climb, and Mary was fascinated by them.  (She is, after all, quite the rock climber already.)  She was particularly interested in one man, whose harness was covered with carabineers, and they clinked together every time he moved.  "That's a lot of carabineers!" she exclaimed.

We finally arrived at the château at 2:30 in the afternoon - about thirty minutes later than we expected.  As soon as we were done hiking, Mary and I bought ice cream bars and sat down to eat them in the cool green grass under a large shade tree.  It was a perfect treat for Mary, to reward her for a hike well done.

Once the ice cream was gone, we decided that it was time to go for a nice, cold beverage; so Mary and I went over to the bar.  There wasn't any seating available, but the hostess took our name and was able to seat us within ten minutes.  And just as we were being seated, we saw John walking up to the resort!

John joined us at our table and told us the story of his hike over cold drinks.  After leaving us to embark on his hike, he connected with the Highline Trail, which took him up into the mountains.  Along the way, he had stunning views and passed by a number of beautiful lakes, including Mirror Lake.  He even managed to get a good view of Lake Louise and was able to snap pictures of the canoes out on the lake.

After a while, he came to the teahouse at Lake Agnes...and was disappointed to find that it was even more crowded than the Plain of the Six Glaciers Teahouse.  He didn't even bother to go inside; he would have never been able to do so.  He lingered at the lake just long enough to take pictures; then, he continued on his way.

Upon arriving at Lake Louise, he began to look for Mary and me, but we had just gone inside to put our name in for a table at the bar.  He had actually been there for a full ten minutes before finding us.  By that time, he was utterly exhausted, and his foot was killing him.  "Stick a fork in me," he said.  "I'm done."

We spent about a half an hour resting at the bar, enjoying our cold drinks and relaying our hiking stories and taking pictures of the birds and the flowers nearby.  Then, we paid our tab and walked the two-tenths of a mile back to the car.

Although it was still early, we decided to call it a day.  Mary and John were exhausted from the hike and didn't feel like doing any more exploring or hiking.  They just wanted to get back to Johnston Canyon to rest.  It was a big disappointment, then, that we got stuck in construction traffic along Highway 1...and it was moving very slowly...

It was nearly 4:30 by the time we reached the junction with Highway 1A; by that time, we were tired and cranky.  We stopped briefly at Castle Junction to buy some sodas and snacks for the rest of the ride home; then, we drove like mad to Johnston Canyon.

That evening, we ate dinner at the restaurant at Johnston Canyon, because there was no way we were going to drive to Banff for dinner - and I certainly didn't want to cook again.  We enjoyed a delicious dinner and a wonderful bottle of wine; and though it was a little expensive, it was well worth it.

After dinner, we relaxed in the cabin until bedtime.  John even took a relaxing bath in the slipper tub; the hot bath water did wonders for his sore muscles and injured foot, but it also made him very sleepy.  As a result, we all turned in early that night, well before the sun went down...

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