After a short stay at Banff we took the
train again for the West, fully prepared to enjoy the magnificent
scenery through which we were to pass on our way to the Pacific
Coast—a distance of about 560 miles. Any attempt to describe the
panorama, with its ever-changing view of valley and mountain, must
appear ridiculous to any persons who have had an opportunity of
making the journey. It is truly a sight that must be seen to be
appreciated or understood. The “Annotated Time Table” issued by the
Canadian Pacific Railway Company, which contains descriptive notes
of the country through which the line passes, is of much use to
passengers, and is generally read a little in advance, as a
preparation for the wonderful sights that continually unfold
themselves. In many parts of that pamphlet the scenery is described
in terms which at first appear to be exaggerated, and are therefore
sometimes held up to ridicule on the cars, but in the end the
verdict always is that the language, no matter how glowing it may
be, is totally insufficient to convey to the mind any adequate idea
of the beauty or grandeur of the scenery.
After leaving Banff, the line gradually ascends until the summit is
reached. The summit is named “Stephen,” after the first president of
the company, and its altitude is 700 feet higher than Banff. One
becomes in a sense bewildered in gazing at the various snowy
promontories, and the magnificent ranges that appear in every
direction. At Laggan, about seven miles this side of the summit, the
first view of the great glaciers is obtained. Laggan is a favourite
place for a short stay. Within easy reach of the station, high up in
the mountains, there are Lake Louise and the Mirror Lakes, one above
the other. The ascent has been made comparatively easy by the
thoughtfulness of the railway company; the lakes are said to be
marvels of beauty, and the pictures reflected upon their broad
waters are, in certain states of the atmosphere, of the most
beautiful description. It is a very favourite place for artists, and
it is the opinion of the President of the Canadian Pacific Railway
Company that these lakes are among the most beautiful and
picturesque scenery along the line. On leaving Banff it was our
intention to see them for ourselves, but the fates were not
propitious, a snowstorm interfering with our good intentions.
Everyone has heard of the famous Kickinghorse Pass, down which the
railway descends after leaving the summit. In the course of 10
miles, between Stephen and Field, the level of the line falls nearly
1,300 feet. The following is a quotation from the descriptive notes
before referred to, issued by the railway company, and it can truly
be said that its description of the part of the road in question is
in no sense exaggerated:—
“The scenery is now sublime and almost terrible. The line clings to
the mountain side at the left, and the valley on the right deepens
until the river is seen as a gleaming thread a thousand feet below.
Looking to the right, one of the grandest mountain valleys in the
world stretches away to the north, with great white glacier-bound
peaks on either side. Looking ahead, the dark familiar peak of Mount
Field is seen. On the left the Duomo-like head of Mount Stephen, and
spires of Cathedral Mountain still further to the left occasionally
appear over the tree tops. Near the head of Mount Stephen is a
ridge, and on its shoulder almost overhead is seen a shining green
glacier, 800 feet in thickness, which is slowly pressing forward and
over a vertical cliff of a great height.”
At Field there is one of the pretty chalet-like hotels which are to
be found at intervals along the road, and a day or two may be passed
pleasantly enough there, amid the solitude of the mountains and the
grand scenery with which the valley is surrounded. From Field the
line ascends again for a short distance, but soon commences the
descent of what is called the Lower Kickinghorse Valley, down which,
to use the words of the book before referred to, “the river disputes
the passage with the railway. The canyon rapidly deepens until,
beyond Palliser, the mountain sides become vertical, rising straight
up thousands of feet, and within an easy stone’s throw from wall to
wall. Down this vast chasm go the river and the railway together,
the former crossing from side to side to ridges cut out of the solid
rock, and twisting and turning in every direction, and every minute
or two plunging through the projecting angles of the rock, which
seem to close the way. With the towering cliffs almost shutting out
the sunlight, and the roar of the river and the train increased a
hundredfold by the echoing walls, the passage of this terrible gorge
will never be forgotten.”
The lowest point of the descent of the western slope of the Rockies
is reached at Beavermouth, the altitude of which is 2,500 feet, and
for some little distance the train traverses the valley between the
Rockies and the Selkirks. It is not long, however, before the train
again begins its climb. The Beaver River is soon left, and in the
course of a few miles the track reaches to an altitude of 1,000 feet
above the valley, the roadway being on a ridge cut out of the side
of the mountain. The principal difficulty in the construction of
this part of the road was occasioned by the torrents, many of them
splendid cascades, which rush down through narrow gorges cut deeply
into the steep slopes along which the railway creeps. The bridges
which cross these torrents are apt to make the traveller giddy to
look over, and one of them deserves special mention—that over Stony
Creek, which is 295 feet above the level of the creek. During this
part of our journey we were not, in some respects, fortunate as
regards the weather. In the absence of sunshine we had mists and
heavy rain and snow, but these served to increase the volume of the
cascades and mountain torrents, and gave a weirdness and a grandeur
to the scene which would not be obtained even in brilliant sunshine.
The Valley of the Beaver is four or five miles wide, and the river
winds in and out among the forest which ranges far up the sides of
the mountain. It would be a magnificent site for a national park,
even rivalling that at Banff; but the beauty of the scene has been
somewhat marred by the effects of the forest fires, which, since the
advent of the railway, periodically devastate the country. How they
arise it is difficult to say. Sometimes they are started by the camp
fires of hunters and trappers. At other times the undergrowth is set
on fire, possibly by sparks from the engines, and fires have been
known to commence by the concentration of the sun’s rays through
pieces of bottles and glass that have boon left about. It would
naturally be expected that in a country like this there would be
considerable danger from avalanches and snow slides, but these have
been guarded against in the most perfect manner by the railway
engineers, and massive snow sheds, which, as built, are almost as
solid as tunnels, are seen at frequent intervals. At every few
hundred yards, also, there seem to be men continually on the watch,
and one cannot help appreciating, in making this journey, that every
precaution is taken to prevent accidents. That the measures are
effectual is evident from the fact that the through trains are very
rarely delayed, oven in the worst weather—a thing which cannot be
said of the trans-continental lines that have been constructed south
of the boundary line. To quote again from the railway guide book of
this part of the journey:—“Beyond Stony Creek Bridge the gorge of
Bear Creek is compressed into a vast ravine between Mount McDonald
on the left and the Hermit on the right, forming a narrow portal to
the amphithertre of Rogers Pass at the summit of the Selkirks. The
way is between enormous precipices. Mount McDonald towers a mile and
a quarter above the railway in almost vertical height. Its base is
but a stone’s throw distance, and it is so bare and stupendous, and
yet so near, that one is overawed by a sense of immensity and mighty
grandeur. This is the climax of mountain scenery. In passing before
the face of this gigantic precipice tho line clings to the base of
Hermit Mountain, and, as the .station at Rogers Pass is neared, its
clustered spires appear facing those of Mount McDonald, and nearly
as high. Those two matchless mountains were once apparently united,
but some great convulsion of nature has split them asunder, leaving
hardly room for the railway.”
The roadway at the summit of the Selkirks is at an altitude of 4,300
feet, and two miles further the Glacier House is approached. It is
near Mount Sir Donald, named after Sir Donald A. Smith, one of the
chief promoters of the Canadian Pacific Railway. This is the site of
another of the railway hotels at which the train stops for meals,
and it is also a favourite resting-place for tourists who desire to
spend a little time among the mountains. The great glacier is only a
mile and a half from the station, and a few hundred foot above the
level of the hotel, and is quite accessible. It is said to be larger
than all the glaciers in the Alps together, and on a clear day the
sight is most impressive. Continuing the descent from the Glacier
House, the railway passes out of the valley over a loop which winds
in and out and round about, until at length four tracks of the
railway may be scene above the other. The descent still continues
until Revolstoke is reached - a mining town on the banks of the
Columbia River. It is important as a divisional point of the
railway, and also as the stopping place for those who wish to visit
the Kootenay and Nelson country, the immense mineral wealth of which
is being gradually exploited. |
