Suddenly, I saw the head of a horse above the willows of the overgrown trail. Riderless, and coming towards me. But it was mistaken identity. This was no horse, it was a grizzly bear—and he wasn't stopping. I did. Well one does when you're brought up short in grizzly country by the squire of the lan...

God, I was tired. And we still had to hike out. The author on a Mount Christie expedition in 2005, around the same time he celebrated his 60th year. // Liam Harrap I had wanted to see 60 in with a flourish, not a walking stick and a sit on a bench in the Park. That was the reason I was so tired. I h...

He passed us, not a care in the world as if he were strolling on a tropical beach. He wore running shoes and just a pair of shorts. It was hot, boiling hot as it can be on a glacier with the sun blasting down. The four of us, roped and on the way down, were not in beachwear; we had crampons on and w...

The Jasper wildfire was a fiery furnace, temperatures reaching almost 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough to melt copper and gold.  With such atomic obliteration, will we ever see the forest come back within our lifetime, certainly within mine? In four days in August I would have my answer.  There ...

DISCLAIMER: Views, opinions and actions of Jasper Local contributors do not represent those of Jasper Local staff and/or publishers. Monday July 22 was another hot day. The day before was even hotter: at 38 degrees Celsius (100 F) Jasper was the hottest place in Alberta—excluding my apartment! (The ...

This is the sequel to Poetry in the Snow , from February 9, 2024. Next day we skied  to the alpine and came across fresh grizzly tracks. One of the things I enjoyed about snow camping was the comforting thought that all the bears were tucked up snugly in their dens and I could get a good night's sle...

“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses—” No one descended to the traveller. // Harrap “It's 'chomped', Dad! Not champed . . . ” “No it isn't, it's 'champed'. Do you think I don't know the poem?” I took out the Phot...

The sky was mauve, a pale bluish purple. A colour you only see in winter. Mauve, the colour of cold. This was the night the temperature was forecast to hit minus 30 degrees Celsius.  As we struggled up from the valley the forecast seemed spot on.     I caught the smell of woodsmoke and figured our b...

August 31. A blue moon tonight, the second full moon of the month. The weather is not looking good. As I trudge up the summit slope cloud sweeps in as if sucked by a vacuum cleaner. One moment I have a view, the next I'm in a whiteout and flakes of snow splatter on the rocks. I don't know why the he...