Ponder life changes in the Bugaboos, whitewater rafting, Via Ferrata

So there I was, clutching a Rocky Mountain cliff and wondering when the role reversal had happened. When had our kids become the experts, not just for the knowledge they´ve accumulated, but also for looking after our safety?

I pondered that while hiking a steep mountain trail in the Bugaboos, whitewater rafting, and climbing a via ferrata during our August visit to Canmore, Alberta, Canada. Our daughter Rachel and her fiancé, Zach, ran another installment of what we´ve come to call “Rachel´s Boot Camp for Retired Parents.” 

Over the years that Rachel has spent working in the outdoor recreation industry, I´ve learned to trust her expertise. I don´t need to hold my daughter´s hand to guide her across the street anymore. Instead, she is leading me to keep me safe.

(And what is it with my kids making me cling to rocks and plunge into icy water?! On the same visit home to Canada, our son Tom took us to a Kelowna swimming hole where I also found myself clutching a rock and sliding into gaspingly cold water.)

Via Ferrata… or Via Terrifyata

You can see the two blue lines with carabiners that kept me clipped securely to the metal cable that runs along the Via Ferrata route. Fellow climbers Roxy, Rachel and Bill are right behind me.

We knew that Rachel and Zach had planned another round of parental boot camp, including whitewater rafting and a challenging mountain hike. But they also proposed the Via Ferrata at Mount Norquay, where Zach works as a guide.

I examined the website, and flat-out refused. I drew a firm line against traversing an inches-wide swinging bridge across nothingness. Or clinging to a rock wall above nothingness. In my mind, I called it Via Terrifyata. I don´t have a fear of heights, but rather a fear of falling through those heights.

Zach reassured me, repeatedly, that it was safe. You wear a helmet and a climbing harness around your legs and butt, and are always attached via two lines to a metal cable.

Even if you don´t climb the Via Ferrata, you can take the chairlift up Mount Norquay to ooh and aah at the achingly gorgeous views over Banff and the Bow Valley.

Via Ferrata, which means “iron road” in Italian, involves climbing on a set route of metal rungs and steps and a cable attached firmly to the rock. To repeat, you´re always attached to the metal cable. Still, my hands got clammy.

“Can I go up there, take a look, and then back out if it still terrifies me?” I asked.

“Yes, you can turn around any time,” he assured me.

“You can do it, Mom,” Rachel echoed.

Roxy and I (left) rode the historic chairlift up to where the Via Ferrata began. Left to right: Roxy, Bill, me, Rachel, and Zach.

Our Spanish daughter, Roxy (who had lived with us for a year to learn English), was visiting, and she felt like I did. We agreed that if we backed out, we would sit in the Cliffhouse Bistro at the top of the chairlift and console ourselves with a charcuterie board and wine. Mentally, I had gone from “when I back out” to “if I back out.”

With that solid backup plan, I felt strangely calm as we drove the zigzag road up to Mount Norquay.

Zach slipped into his guide role as he demonstrated the equipment, safety procedures, and climbing techniques. He was taking us on the Explorer route – billed as the best for people “short on time.” They could have added “short on bravery.”

Zach patiently guided me up the metal rungs and encouraged me to lean out, letting the cable take my weight across some tricky spots.

We rode the North American Chairlift up to Cliffhouse Bistro, where the Via Ferrata starts. (Coincidently, my parents rode the same chairlift on their honeymoon in July 1957. That´s when my mother discovered that my father was afraid of heights. It´s now designated an “historic” chairlift.)

The scariest part, for me, came right at the start. Clutching the top rungs of the first ladder, I had to place a foot sideways onto another metal step and haul myself up and to the side. My palms were sweaty. Although I knew I couldn´t fall down the mountain to my death, I was scared to swing my weight off the ladder. I tried hard not to look down.

I discovered what a wonderful guide my future-son-in-law is. He patiently talked me through it – showing me exactly where to place my feet and hands, and offering options when my bad knees just couldn´t do that. After that, I trusted him, relaxed, and had a surprisingly good time! I also realized that Rachel had found the perfect partner with whom to share her life.

We traversed a short, sturdy beam (to the right of the bridge) to get onto the long hanging bridge.

Zach is a font of knowledge about the Rocky Mountains, which he shared as we moved along the route. He pointed out endangered white-bark pines. I hadn´t realized that the Rockies are mostly limestone, not granite.

We arrived at the hanging bridge – the part I´d been dreading. To get onto it, we first walked along a steady 4×4 beam. Maybe it was my teenage gymnastics experience coming back, but I didn´t find the beam bad at all. The upcoming bridge worried me more. 

The bridge offered a narrow wooden foot path, with cables on each side to clutch. Zach went first and I followed. I feared any bouncing, but he made sure that didn´t happen.

Turns out Bill and Roxy found the beam much scarier than the bridge! Go figure.

After the bridge, the rest of the Via Ferrata was easy and fun – far less scary than what my imagination had concocted. And what a sense of accomplishment at the end.

I did it!

Whitewater rafting through a canyon

Rachel (left) expertly guided our whitewater raft along the Horseshoe Canyon. Bill is furthest right and I´m fourth from the right. Photo courtesy of Chinook Rafting.

Our next parental boot camp event – bright and early the very next morning – was whitewater rafting through the Horseshoe Canyon on the glacial Bow River.

Rachel guided us this time. She has worked as a whitewater guide with Chinook Rafting for five seasons and gave the safety briefing to all the dozens of rafters that day, not just us.

We´ve been whitewater rafting several times, so this wasn´t as nerve-wracking as the Via Ferrata or our Bugaboos mountain hike to come. In 2020, we rafted the family-friendly Kananaskis River with Rachel as our guide. While the shale-lined Horseshoe Canyon is shorter, the rapids are bigger. And risk is always involved. But, no need to hold our daughter´s hand; she´s experienced with wilderness and whitewater rescue.

Rachel warned us that the biggest rapid came first. As we flowed into it, I thought “This isn´t so bad.” Famous last thoughts! We dipped down and then I saw the white water curling back towards us, well over our heads.

I jumped off the lower cliff into the glacial water. We floated the last stretch of the trip, clad in stylish matching wet suits, dry jackets, red life jackets and jaunty helmets. Photos courtesy of Chinook Rafting.

That glacial water – just above freezing – gushed over us, seeping into our wetsuits. Rachel shouted commands over the roaring waters and expertly guided us through. We emerged on the far side with whoops of exhilaration. What a blast!

Then we came to a spot for cliff jumping. Everyone got out and walked up to see whether the lower cliff, about 12 feet off the water, or the higher cliff, about 30 feet, would provide enough adrenaline rush.

Back in my teen years, I had jumped off 50-foot cliffs into a quarry. But with many decades of accumulated wisdom since then, I opted for the lower cliff. I didn´t feel the urge to prove myself here. Still, it was a thrill falling through the air, splashing down, and letting the swift current carry me easily to the exit point. The hardest part was climbing up the slippery rocks, but I accepted a proffered hand to help haul me up.

I suppose adventure is built into Rachel´s bones. She wore her first lifejacket at 10 days old when we took her camping and canoeing. Photo courtesy of Chinook Rafting.

But the best – i.e. scariest – was yet to come!

Rachel announced that a particular rapid had the right conditions for surfing. Not like ocean surfing where you ride a moving wave towards the shore. Instead, you sort of float in place on a standing wave that´s created as the water flows over the underwater rocks. 

Rachel guided the raft into an eddy, just below the rapid, and rearranged some of our seating positions, moving me to the back beside her. How sweet of her, I thought, to move me into a safer spot!

Then she explained what would happen. We would paddle powerfully upstream, back into that thundering water, where the magic of river hydraulics would hold us in place as we surfed on the standing wave.

“Ready?!” she asked.

I gulped, but joined the others in a resounding “Yes!”

Rachel guided us through wild water! Photo courtesy of Chinook Rafting.

On her command, we all dug in hard, paddling together as strongly as we could. We got onto the standing wave and surfed there for what seemed like forever.

I have to say, I was scared we´d flip. The water kept cascading onto us, like we were sitting under a waterfall. But Rachel remained calm and seemed to know what she was doing, so I trusted her.

After doing two 360´s on the wave, she did something and we popped off and floated downstream.

As it turned out, Bill had hardly got wet at all. Rachel had moved me beside her so I´d be sure to get thoroughly soaked! From her point of view, that´s the most fun! What a sweetheart.

Mountain hike in the Bugaboos

The pinnacles and glaciers in Bugaboo Provincial Park looked unreal, almost like paintings.

A rosy dawn lit the Three Sisters mountains in Canmore as we set out for our third boot-camp event, the one around which we´d planned this entire trip: our mountain hike in the Bugaboos.

The Bugaboo Provincial Park website describes the five-kilometre trail, which follows the moraine of the Bugaboo Glacier up to the Conrad Kain Hut, as “very steep and strenuous, with exposure to steep drop-offs as it climbs through granite bluffs. Extreme caution should be exercised along its route.” 

The 700-metre elevation gain over the relatively short trail length is the challenge.

“It´s like climbing stairs for four kilometres,” Rachel informed us. “But the first kilometre is fairly flat.”

We knew this beforehand and had trained for months ahead, hiking up all Alcobaça´s steep hills repeatedly. Still, we knew the Bugaboos would challenge us.

Fungi and fun guy along the easy part of the trail.

“Hut” doesn´t adequately describe the accommodations; it´s a three-level dormitory that sleeps 35 people, with a large kitchen, electricity, and eco-outhouses. Named for respected mountaineer Conrad Kain, the hut sits on a rocky plateau surrounded by stunning spires, peaks, three glaciers, and nearby alpine tarns – little ponds formed by glacial meltwater. 

Rachel and Zach had been there many times and wanted to share their awe and wonder at its beauty with us.

They made things easy for us. They filled two huge packs with the heavy equipment and all the food, and gave Bill and me the smaller packs. Children taking care of parents. We even rode in the back seat for the three-hour drive to the trailhead, located in eastern British Columbia.

“The mountains shall bring peace to the people,” said a carved-wood sign in the town of Radium Hot Springs that we passed through.

Fireweed framed a spire surrounded by glaciers. Ripe raspberries grew along the trail.

But when we arrived at the trailhead, the mountains had not brought peace.

As it turned out, the upper part of the trail had flooded when one of those tarns burst through the glacial wall containing it. This historic flood made the news, since 60 people had to be rescued by helicopter from the hut and two campgrounds.

But we didn´t know that then. Early information was sketchy and conflicting. Hikers stood around in the trailhead parking lot in confusion, not sure what to do.

Zach ran up the trail for the first kilometre and returned to report all was clear. Meanwhile, Rachel used her InReach satellite communications device (for safety in areas with no cell phone service) to send and receive messages, eventually discovering that the flooding was higher up. We helped (!) by letting our kids figure all this out, since it was out of our area of expertise.

After much discussion, Rachel and Zach decided we could hike the trail as far as was safe, without adding to the rescue workers´ burden. Since they are rescue workers themselves (both are ski patrollers in the winter, and Rachel works part-time for B.C. Ambulance), they´re sensitive to that.

We were all disappointed that our three-day adventure had become a day hike instead. But, it´s all part of the adventure. We repacked into one small day pack, which they would not let us carry. With bear spray at the ready, we set out.

Trails never look as steep or as rough in photos as they are in reality.

Sure enough, the first kilometre was easy, through pretty woods and over small bridges across streams (that had not flooded). Then the climbing began.

The boulder field was hard – one high rock after another. But the Christmasy-smelling forest and the lush meadow were beautiful. I stopped to take photos (really, to catch my breath) of various fungi, spiky magenta fireweed, lacy yarrow and a tiny, delicate, orchid-like flower. Raspberries and blueberries tempted us along the trail. We saw a marmot and a pika – both small guinea-pig-like creatures that scampered over the rocks. No bears!

We parked ourselves on meadow rocks to eat lunch, gazing at the blue streaky glaciers surrounding the tall Snowpatch spire. Skinny trickles of waterfalls fell in the folds and cracks between peaks. The beauty stunned me. Truly.

Eating lunch, our eyes drank in the streaky blue glaciers framing Snowpatch Spire. Further up, the swollen creek surrounded both ends of the bridge, cutting off access to the Conrad Kain Hut.

We couldn´t see the tarns but, off to the right, we spotted the gushing waterfall that spilled like a bridal veil in the wind down from the flooded area. Helicopters whop-whop-whopped overhead on many trips to and from the Conrad Kain Hut to rescue trapped hikers.  

After the meadow, the trail got even more difficult, with many steep boulders to climb. I was grateful for my hiking poles, but Rachel and Zach offered their hands to help me up many particularly hard spots.

As we hiked, I contemplated that role reversal, where children suddenly seem to be in charge. Just as the trail gradually grew more challenging, the role reversal had been gradual, or at least my realization of it had been gradual.

Rachel´s video showed the dangerous rushing water surrounding both ends of the bridge.

We arrived at the first section of chain that runs like a railing along the trail where the drop-off is steep. I laughed at myself. This was not as scary as in my imagination. Perhaps the Via Ferrata had improved my confidence? The path was wide enough that even I did not need to hold on, especially with the dry weather we had. However, the chain would definitely be useful in wet and slippery conditions.

Rachel estimated we had climbed three-quarters of the trail and would certainly have been able to reach the hut. I was pleased to receive this praise of our fitness! Bill and I decided to turn back, since hiking down would be the hardest for my knees.

The first section of chain running along the path was not as scary as I´d imagined.

Rachel and Zach wanted to see the bridge, so they continued to the metal ladder up a large rock slab, along a second chain, and to the metal bridge. They described the water rushing around both ends, making it dangerous to even attempt to get onto the bridge, never mind off the other side. Their videos confirmed it. Quite right to close the trail. (Note: as of early October 2025, the trail is still closed.)

The Alpine Club of Canada explained later that a glacier that was holding back the tarn´s water had partially collapsed. The water flooded out, finding a new channel down the mountain and causing the flood around the bridge.

I can report that my wonky knees made the way back down the trail, sore but still working. (If we had gone the day before, we´d have had a helicopter ride down.) Despite the trail closure, it was well worth the hike to experience this stunning place. We could appreciate how much Rachel and Zach love “the Bugs.”

However, the rest of our three-day adventure plan needed a backup. What next?

Backup plan: car camping

Our campsite overlooked the vibrant, milky-teal-blue White River.

We backtracked to the town of Radium Hot Springs and ate fish ´n´ chips for dinner while we formulated a backup plan. Since none of the options required safety considerations, we had more input this time. In the end, we spent the night sleeping on wonderful mattresses at the home of Rachel´s friends and then went car-camping (i.e. driving to a campsite and sleeping in a tent, no strenuous hike required).

The next day, we drove to the pretty town of Invermere, where Rachel works part-time as an Emergency Medical Responder with B.C. Ambulance. She showed us around the station and an ambulance. She turned on the lights for us, but wouldn´t demonstrate the siren. Darn! But seriously – how could we not rely on her for safety when she drives an ambulance?!

We bought groceries suitable for car camping: hot dogs, corn on the cob, and marshmallows. Then we drove back through Kootenay National Park and along to a free B.C. recreation site called Kootenay-White Junction, since it overlooks the milky-teal White River where it joins the equally beautiful Kootenay River.

The White River flows in from the left to join the Kootenay River. The milky teal colour indicates they are glacier-fed rivers.

We explored the stoney juncture of these two glacial rivers, gathered water to filter, and then enjoyed a campfire dinner. We soaked the corn in water, then grilled it. We cooked spider dogs (wieners cut into eight legs) and marshmallows on sticks. Rachel experimented with a “savoury s´more” – toasted baguette with melted cheese and peach jam (rather than the traditional marshmallow and chocolate on a graham wafer). A delicious new find.

An owl hooted classically as we crawled into sleeping bags. We fell asleep to the soothing sounds of the White River, just behind and down the cliff from our tent. And awoke to a red squirrel chattering his discontent with our intrusion.

We had a classic campfire dinner at a free B.C. recreation campsite.

We declared Rachel´s experiment with a “savoury s´more” a resounding success. Spider dogs and marshmallows added high nutritional notes.

Both Rachel and Zach said a few times that they´d really enjoyed this short car-camping experience – an easy change from their more challenging back country adventures.  

(A short side note here to applaud the B.C. government for offering these campsites. The vast majority are free of charge, and usually down a bumpy dirt road, but they include a fire pit, picnic table, and outhouse. How wonderful!) 

Marble Canyon is an easy hike off Highway 93 that cuts through Kootenay National Park.

On our drive back to Canmore, we stopped at a few places in Kootenay National Park, including Marble Canyon. We hiked along the canyon edges, peering down at the deep, narrow channel that Tokumm Creek has created over millennia. Zach pointed out where Tokumm Pole forms in the winter – a 150-foot frozen waterfall that he has climbed. A difficult climb, he said. I didn´t doubt it.

Many bridges criss-crossed the canyon. We noticed Rachel and Zach leaning over the railings, examining the water flow and pointing out big rocks. They were scouting this to paddle it in kayaks!

“Tell me when it´s over,” I said.

I draw a firm line there. Whitewater rafting through a wide canyon is one thing; kayaking through this narrow cleft was another.

But then, I´ve drawn firm lines before…

We don´t need to hold hands now, but it´s still nice.

As I had watched Rachel demonstrate ambulance equipment and listened to her work stories (driving a dying two-year-old to hospital through a blizzard because the helicopter couldn´t fly), I knew she didn´t need my hand to cross the street anymore. Relations with adult children must adapt as time flows on. Sometimes I flounder to find my footing. My pride in our kids’ accomplishments is countered by sadness that they need us less.

But, Rachel still calls with automotive questions for Bill and wedding etiquette questions for me. So there is still some handholding left.

We visited Canmore in August 2025. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.