Ya Ha Tinda Ranch served as the Krones' trailhead; it's also an equestrain park where visitors can camp, go on day rides, and tour historic buildings.

Wolf tracks covered every square foot of the large muddy flat in front of us. A grizzly was in the valley below. We’d crossed a glacially swollen river, and lost the pack horse. Luckily, we retrieved him without any damage or injury. And, we were 50 miles from the nearest trailhead, deep in the Canadian Rockies — all alone!

We’ve done horse-packing trips in many great wilderness areas of the West. We were ready for new country, new territory, and a new challenge: the Canadian Rockies. A pack trip into this country isn’t to be taken lightly. The Rockies north of the border are vast, huge wilderness areas, larger than anything in the United States. Some areas of the Canadian Rockies weren’t even explored and mapped until the 1920s. Today, many trail junctions still aren’t marked.

A trip into this type of country takes special preparation. Horses need to be seasoned trail-riding and packing veterans. Riders need to have experience in wilderness camping, map reading, survival skills, and route finding. Come along as we take a pack trip into some of the wildest country this side of the Yukon!

Getting Ready
Our research started the winter before our planned August pack trip. We made many phone calls to wilderness wardens and backcountry outfitters, trying to find someone who’d been on every trail and trail junction on our planned route. We ordered detailed topographical maps of the area.

Our trip would be 10 days and roughly 100 miles — with one pack horse! Our lightweight pack gear helps. We do have a roll-up table, one burner stove, and even the luxury of two small fold-up chairs. (For our food-preparation tips, see “Pack Light, Eat Right,” July/August ’04.)

Employees raise, train, and winter about 170 horses.

Our intrepid horse packers take you deep into the Canadian Rockies. Ride along on their 10-day, 100-mile journey through a vast, remote wilderness.

After much research, we selected our trailhead and route through the Rockies. The trailhead was on the eastern side of the Rockies, north of Calgary, Alberta, at a beautiful place called Ya Ha Tinda Ranch. From there, our loop would take us west, into the Rockies.

The cast of characters on our adventure included Buddy, my saddle horse, a 12-year-old seasoned buckskin Quarter Horse gelding; Freddy, our pack horse, a 14-year-old sorrel Quarter Horse gelding; and Buckwheat, Charlene’s 13-year-old Appaloosa Horse gelding — the flagship of our fleet, as we affectionately called him.

Buckwheat is a great veteran of the backcountry who’s walked the entire Continental Divide Trail, from Mexico to Canada. If there was ever a horse to trust, this was the one. (For more on this remarkable horse, see “Thank You Buckwheat,” July/August ’03.)

To travel into Canada with horses, you’re required to have an international health certificate and a Coggins test showing that your horse is negative for equine infectious anemia. You also have to alert Canada Border Services Agency customs office (204/983-3500 or 506/636-5064), which might have you meet a Canadian veterinarian at the border for an inspection. (The law on this seems to vary; we’ve taken two trips to Canada with horses, but had to have a veterinary inspection only once.)

We also obtained camping permits from park headquarters in Banff, because part of our route would be in the vast wilderness of Banff National Park. 

Ya Ha Tinda Ranch
The drive from our North Idaho home to Ya Ha Tinda Ranch took 13 hours. Ya Ha Tinda means “mountain prairie” in the Stoney tribal language. The area lives up to its name, with lush meadows at the base of the Rockies.

This ranch is a very special place. Besides serving as a trailhead, it’s also an equestrian park where people can camp with their horses and go on day rides. And, it’s the only government-operated horse ranch in Canada, because of its good-quality forage and strategic location.

Ya Ha Tinda employees raise, train, and winter about 170 horses. They use a special breeding program to ensure the quality of horses needed for mountain travel. Breeding records go back to 1938.

Government wardens use these horses to patrol the region, as the wilderness is so vast. About every 20 miles through the wilderness, there’s a warden cabin, as well as a corral and grazing area. Wardens patrol on horseback in a constantly moving circuit throughout the wilderness, staying in the warden cabins as they travel.

Heading In
On the morning of our departure, the sun lifted from the prairies and touched the eastern side of the mountains with a golden glow. After months of planning and preparation, we were finally at the trailhead, tacking up the horses, and getting ready for 10 days in the backcountry. The Canadian Rockies glistened like a shining jewel necklace strung north to south just beyond our camp, and we were heading into them! Needless to say, we were excited and a little apprehensive, as well.

Our first day, we’d travel 17 miles and cross over a 6,500-foot pass just northwest of Ya Ha Tinda Ranch. True to the real backcountry experience here, our first trail junction had no sign, but we could tell we were going in the correct direction from our topo map.

Clearwater River Valley.

We did have a potential problem looming in our minds. Ahead, we’d have to cross the Clearwater River. A week earlier, a warden had been swept downriver as he attempted to cross aboard a 16-hand horse. Once we got to the river, we’d have to decide whether we’d attempt to cross it; if it looked too treacherous, our 10-day pack trip would be cut short. The names of the streams we crossed didn’t help the gloomy cloud of concern that hung over us. Along the way, we crossed Forbidden Creek, Scalp Creek, and Skeleton Creek!

Our first camp was at Forty Mile Flat on the Clearwater River. Surrounding our camp were large, beautiful meadows for the horses and majestic 10,000-foot peaks. I pitched our tent, while Charlene got water to filter. (We use a gravity water-filtering system, which saves the time of hand-pumping water through a filter.)

We brought an electric fence for the horses to graze in, but we also wrapped an electric fence around our tent. This was a grizzly-protection plan we learned from the wardens. Of course, a grizzly could easily go through an electric fence. But he’s really just snooping around, so if he  gets stung by the fence, he’s likely to go elsewhere. The method must work — we haven’t been eaten up yet!

We have a routine: When we first arrive at camp, we set our horses out in hobbles to save the grass inside the corral. After a couple hours, we move them into the corral to continue eating. At night, they’re highlined. We don’t like to leave horses overnight in an electric corral, as a horse could accidentally knock the corral down and be gone the next morning.

As we watched the sun set over our little camp at Forty Mile, we wondered what our river crossing would be like the next day.

Glacial River Crossing
The next morning, after coffee and oatmeal, we packed up and prepared for our river crossing. If we could make it, we planned to ride upriver into a very remote section of the Rockies. In this area, rivers often rise in the summer, as they’re fed by glaciers, which melt in the summer heat. The rivers contain a milky glacial silt, making it difficult to determine the water depth.  We were soon to discover our river crossing would actually consist of several crossings spread over a quarter mile. Glacial streams such as this one often spread across the valley, so you have to cross from one sandy island bar to another.

All went well until the last crossing. This turned out to be the deepest, widest, and fastest. We’d been warned that horses can lose their equilibrium, become dizzy, and start wandering in such a crossing. All they see is fast-moving, milky water rushing in front of them.

One method for keeping a horse on track, a warden told us, is to hold a hat up to one equine eye as a blinder. Another method is to take good control of the reins and push your mount forward with spurs. I used the latter method. But, in trying to keep everything together, watching the moving water, and getting dizzy myself, I lost the lead rope to our pack horse.

Freddy, with all our gear, drifted against a logjam next to the far bank. Luckily, Freddy is a sensible minded boy, and we were able to collect him and move onto dry ground. We were across!

We continued riding up the Clearwater River valley through beautiful, unspoiled country. Our ride took us through tremendous valleys surrounded by lofty peaks. The scenery was sublime. We saw several herds of elk and an abundance of wolf tracks.

Our next camp was at Indian Head Meadows. Near this camp, we found a warden’s cabin and also a small, unmarked grave.

A Ghostly Evening
That evening, we received a visit from the warden, Frank Burstrom, a 25-year veteran of the Canadian Warden Service. His grandfather had been one of the original surveyors of the Banff National Park boundary.

As dusk gathered around our crackling fire, Frank related an eerie tale. A few years earlier, during a bitterly cold autumn evening, he rode in to the warden’s cabin next to our camp. When he went down into the basement to start a fire in the furnace, he felt his neck hairs stand on end. Turning, he saw a translucent Indian ghost. It was very clear. Frank later was able to describe the Indian’s clothing, hair, and even his sad expression.

Frightened, Frank rushed from the cabin and spent a frigid night in the tack room. He never told anyone at park headquarters in Banff about this incident — he was afraid people would think he was a tad off his rocker. Then, a couple years later, another warden saw the same apparition and reported it to headquarters, so Frank finally told his story.

The grave near our camp was that of an Indian boy who died in the early 1900s during an attempt by a group of Indians to cross the Rockies. Frank thought this could be a connection to the apparition. After Frank left us all alone, in the dark, near the grave, I thought, Oh no, we’ve had to cross swollen rivers, we’ve watched out for wolves and grizzlies, and now we’re camped by a ghost!

We never saw a ghost, but we did have a catastrophe at this camp when Charlene found a dead mouse floating in our canvas drinking-water bucket.

“Just wash out the bucket,” I told her. “It’ll be okay.”

“Burn it,” Charlene replied.

“Don’t mess with the nest,” says Dr. Phil. Sooo, we burned the bucket!

Moving On
Our next camp was farther up the Clearwater River, close to Devon Lakes. On the way, we visited Indian Head Pass, a verdant, open, tundra-like area where 20 mountain sheep grazed. This camp would be the farthest upriver we’d go and in one of the most remote areas of the whole region. 

One indicator of the wild nature of the upper Clearwater Valley is the existence of wolverines. To survive, male wolverines may cover as much as 1,250 square miles. This valley is also home to a wolf pack. One warden witnessed a pack of wolves taking down a bull elk.

At camp, we had one of our few human contacts when an outfitter from Banff passed by. The outfitter told us that our next planned camp was in prime grizzly country, so be on the lookout. He also told us that we were the only private horse party he’d seen in the wilderness all summer — and the previous summer, as well. I was beginning to feel that Charlene and I might be in over our heads. When I expressed this concern to the outfitter, he replied, “Well, if you’re not on the edge, you’re taking up space!”

When we crawled out of our tent the next morning, we saw that the mountains had been dusted by fresh snow. We quickly packed, while Buddy, Buckwheat, and Freddy feasted on lush meadow grass.

That day, we had to backtrack a ways and cross Divide Pass en route to our next camp. A warden had told us the “sign” for the next trail junction would be a moose antler nailed onto a tree. Sure enough, we found the antler. This was good to know; the junction was across a glacial stream in dense trees and difficult to see from our side of the river.

From this point, it was 16 more miles over Divide Pass to our camp. There were a number of small stream crossings, and we saw 34 elk along the way.

Don’t attempt Divide Pass during lightning storms. At 8,500 feet high, the area is tundra-like and completely exposed to the elements. Also, be very careful in dense clouds and fog; it’s easy to become disoriented and go down the wrong valley on the other side.

We were lucky. The day cleared to hold a beautiful blue sky that revealed patches of snow at the top of the pass, incredible views of craggy peaks in all directions, and a rock wall formation on the other side similar to the China Wall in the Bob Marshall Wilderness of Montana.

Below this rock wall, we came into big-time grizzly country. In the open tundra, we saw grizzly diggings everywhere. Even Buddy eyed those holes and dirt mounds with suspicion. Charlene and I had the same thought: There was a lot more meat on us than on a little squirrel! And, as luck would have it, our next designated camp was at the base of the large open area.

Sleepless Night
Other than grizzly worries, this site made for a beautiful camp, with a great view across the valley to rugged peaks and bluffs. We wrapped our tent in electric tape next to the electric horse corral for, we hoped, added grizzly protection. We weren’t allowed to carry a gun, as part of our journey was in a national park. Our only defenses were cans of pepper spray. That, and being alert.

This was the night of the full moon and one we later termed “the night of the Devil’s head.” Charlene sleeps soundly in these camping situations, so I deem it my duty to be on alert for grizzlies. A duty that can often cost me sleep.

Early that evening, a strong wind picked up and whipped a small tent pole repeatedly at my head. I had to turn my sleeping bag backward. Later, the wind died, and I glanced outside to see the light of the full moon reflecting in five pairs of eyes! At first startled, I soon relaxed when I realized these were only elk bedded down in the grassy meadow.

As the night progressed, Charlene began to snore. Buckwheat, who was sleeping next to the tent, was also snoring. With snoring on both sides and thoughts of roaming grizzlies, I rolled around in fitful sleep until 2:00 a.m. Then I turned over and looked at the side wall of the tent. It was illuminated like a movie screen from the full moon. And there, standing outside our tent in perfect black silhouette, was the head of the devil! My horrified reaction slowly faded when I realized this was merely the shadow of Buckwheat’s head, his ears lopped to the side and his nose cut off by the tent bottom. I’d had enough; I fell asleep!

Last Camp
The next morning, after having never seen a hair of a grizzly, we moved down to our last camp on the Red Deer River. The ride was beautiful and not difficult. The Red Deer River is one of the other great wilderness valleys in the Canadian Rockies. We made camp along the river in a picturesque location, fitting for our last night out.

A warden told us where to find a wolf den near this camp. We’d noticed a great deal of wolf scat left in certain locations, as though to claim territory. A short walk across the valley led us to the wolf den. The den’s entrance was about one foot high; an elk vertebra lay next to it. Although there were fresh tracks in the dirt, we never saw a single wolf. However, the wolves most likely did see us! A little way from the den is the grave of a woman who died here on a horse-packing trip in the 1920s.

The last day, we were off on our final ride down the Red Deer River. The ride along the river was gorgeous. We rode past rapids, canyons, and mountain vistas. At the end of a long day, the welcome buildings of Ya Ha Tinda Ranch came into view, along with vehicles and trailers at the equestrian park. And there was our camper, a wonderful sight! Now we had no grizzly worries, a soft bed, a hot shower, and clean clothes!

As we rested by our camper, we were visited by several Canadians who were doing day rides from the equestrian park. They’d seen our vehicle here for a number of days and knew we must be in the backcountry.

“What outfitter did you go with?” they asked. “None,” we replied. “Who guided you?” they wondered. “No one,” we said, smiling. When they learned we did it alone, they were amazed and wondered how we ever found the river crossings and trail junctions. One old fellow looked at us and said, “I didn’t think it could be done!”

We felt a great sense of accomplishment and also felt very lucky. But if we ever do this again, we’ll get a satellite phone for backup!