Spring Comes to Banff: It is Time to go.

The Banff Snail

Shortly after the Japan earthquake, and while NATO was debating on whether to enforce a no fly zone over Libya, the Calgary Herald had a front page story on the Banff Snail.

The Banff Snail, for those of you who do not read the Herald, is an endangered mollusk who inhabits the streams around Banff’s Hot Springs. The unusually hot water, supports this rare little creature. A few years ago, the Park officials noticed that the snail was dying out in some parts of the area. This led them to close down the heritage bath house at the Cave and Basin and move the baths up to Sulphur Mountain. Or so the story goes.

The new spa is nice, but very small, and it feels, on busy days, a little like being at a mall. Hot springs can be very disappointing. The managed and finessed ones that is. They stink of chemicals and attract unhealthy people along with unruly parents with equally unruly children.

Besides attracting the unhealthy and unruly, hot springs create fragile ecosystems, creating or attracting species that grow nowhere else than in this unique confluence of events. I have heard of an orchid that only grows near one particular hot spring that attracts a hummingbird that has uniquely evolved to feed on this particular flower. Although it is not as attractive as an orchid or a hummingbird, the Banff snail is a rare and endangered species that lives in a incredibly fragile environment,

There are a few biologists in Banff who have made it their lives work to study this snail. They report that the hot springs are cooling down, and as a result, the snails are dying out. I also discovered that as I sat in this hot spring pool—when it was minus thirty degrees out—the pool had been heated with tap water. Tap water? I could have gone home and had a bath, without putting up the unwashed hordes and wasted fewer resources, and wouldn’t have got some weird fungal infection on my feet.

So the story about the snail, was as much about the hot springs cooling off as it was about the snail dying out. Anyway, as I walked into the staff kitchen, a co-worker sees the article on the front page and she says, “With the earthquake in Japan, and civil war throughout the Middle East, who cares about a snail?”

Spring comes to Banff in Small Increments

Although there has been signs that spring will come, it still hasn’t made its presence known. Snow continues to fall and it lays in piles all over the place, but if you look carefully, there are a few small signs of spring.

There is one stretch along Bear Avenue where a large pine nestles against the white faux Tudor façade of a hotel. A tiny ecosystem has been formed by the southern exposure of the hotel, the shelter of the pine, and the white paint that reflects the sun back onto the pine. It is a small space, and I wouldn't have noticed it if it were not for the calls of the birds that live in the pine.

Normally, the only birds you see in Banff in the winter are ravens and magpies. But in this tiny ecosystem there are lively little sparrows cavorting and celebrating spring. This one tree is a very busy hub of activity. Plans are obviously being made, mates are being chosen, and directions are being given. You can hear this tiny little community from quite a distance. Some days, in my hurry, I forget about this spot, but the noise of the sparrows whistling and squawking, always makes me stop and stare at the tree.


The other day, I was watching all of the usual activity when I noticed tiny little flies and insects flying around the tree. This is the first insect life I have seen since I arrived. I was amazed that here, in town, mostly made by man, but accidentally made by man, rests this tiny ecosystem. So fragile and, yet, so alive.

Second to Last...

I am getting into the second to last phase of my time in Banff. Tomorrow will be my second to last Saturday, and then Sunday will be… well you get the picture.

I was thinking about how impressive Banff can be in the winter—actually any time of the year, really. But if you spend enough time in one place, even Banff, you stop seeing it. You stop being present.

I imagine this is why I like the idea of travel, not that I always get to actually do it. But it is very attractive to go someplace, for a short time, to be present without struggling. You can see everything for the first time.

Going home too, enables you to feel present, but for a shorter time.

Dispatch from Banff IV

Soon I will be leaving Banff and returning to Vancouver. It is nice to know that my time here is ending. I have enjoyed being here, I have skied (both Nordic and alpine), hiked-up a mountain, ridden a gondola, and steeped in the hot springs. I have taken advantage of the pool, free yoga, and mountain fitness activities. I have even curled, and tomorrow I will add a snow shoeing adventure to my list.

What I have found, is that no matter where you are, no matter how beautiful it all is, you eventually become used to it. I remember my first few weeks here, I was always stopping and looking up. My frequent stops would have been quite a hazard if the locals weren’t used to it. They just walk around you. Like they walk around the deer and the elk that line the streets some days.

A couple of weeks ago, I stooped taking photos, started walking around tourists and elk and deer. I had taken every photo that can be taken by a tourist. I had bought all the tolerable post cards. Even the night stars began to fade for me. That is sad. That is when it stopped being fun to be here.

Today, I booked my ticket home. Knowing that I am leaving has helped make the stars pop (as they say) and the mountains are once again, amazing.

Dispatch from Banff III

Last night the temperate increased by several degrees after days and weeks of temperatures sitting closer to minus twenty. I think I nearly suffocated in my bed last night, as the thermostat was set rather high, and when the outside temperatures went up, the heater started working.

The weather in this part of the world can change quite radically, especially if the Chinook winds come. I have heard that in Pincher Creek, Alberta, the temperature can go from minus-thirty to plus-ten degrees in under an hour. I can’t imagine what that would be like.

I read that the Chinook winds come from the warm ocean air from the Pacific Northwest. I find it almost poetic to think of how the winds traverse the mountains, to bring warm reminders of home.

I miss home. In my garden, spring has begun. The snowdrops are finished and the crocuses are nearly done too. The daffodils are getting ready to bloom. The garden needs manure, and the raspberry canes need to be pruned. Last year, I ate my first asparagus from the garden on April 5th.

It is hard to imagine spring will come to Banff. There are huge piles of snow everywhere and no sign that winter will ever end.

Mid-Point of my Banff Trip

It seems that I am almost halfway through my time at Banff. I wonder if, at the end of March when I am to go, there will still be snow on the ground? I hope not, I would like to see new life beginning before I go.

I would like to see more wildlife. So far, I have only seen mule deer, a mountain goat magpies and ravens. I have heard of elk sightings, but I haven’t seen any. I would really like to see a marmot and a mountain bluebird. I would like to see all the hibernating animals come awake, although I would like to see them from a safe distance.

Sometimes at night I can hear the coyotes, and people tell me about seeing wolves. I wish to see all these creatures before I leave.

Banff Wildlife

Dispatch from Banff

Right outside my window, they tell me, is a swamp. I cannot see it for myself, because the swamp is covered in snow. But I can imagine there is a swamp because the trees are a little undersized and many are in the long, slow process falling over. Each year, the trees slowly fall over. Too slow to be visible, but I assure you, they are still falling.

There is too, the conifer trees that are not evergreens. They look like evergreens but they are actually larch trees in the needle-like drag of the conifer. A deciduous tree. A liar.

Last night, I saw a deer. It stood outlined by the light of the street. I stopped and stared at it for some time. It did not look at me once. This morning, I went on a hike, and I found large chunks of fur on the path. At first, I thought it was grass as it was short and the colour of dry grass. The texture also suggested dry grass, but when I touched it, I realized it was fur.

Going Away

I have been back from the farm for four days and I am already looking forward to going back in three days. This is typical. I always wish I was at the farm instead of in my inner city apartment.

This next visit will be different, because it will be the last weekend I go to the farm for quite some time. I am moving to Banff for a while. I am not sure how long. It may be I am gone for three months or maybe longer. I keep ticking the time off in my head in terms of gardening. I will miss the garlic as it starts to reach its green tips into the sky. I will miss pruning the raspberries, and liming the patch to prevent cane rot. I will miss turning over the next year's compost, nor will I be able to manure the garden. Fortunately, I am not the only gardener.

I will miss looking for the first snow drops and crocuses. Sugaring the first violets, and then never using them. I will miss seedy Saturday and they may miss the money I spend on oddly coloured varieties of vegetables.

But mostly, I will miss my family and friends.