Written for iROCKER SUP in 2021
Winter in Western Canada is a fickle thing. It doesn’t necessarily tend to arrive on schedule, and to define it’s arrival is, in itself, a tricky matter. When the first snows fall, they don’t tend to last. The sun fights a weakening battle with the night as it ebbs to the south, and the weather indecisively flutters between summer-like warmth and the slowly strengthening cold. Sometimes this battle is lost decisively early in the fall – temperatures plummet and skiers rejoice as mountain peaks fall under a blanket of white. But more commonly, the shoulder season in the Rockies is marked by an extended period of seasonal limbo – where winter-lovers test their patience against disappearing snows and the loitering daytime highs, far too-early adorned winter tires, flannel jackets, or (in the worst case) the discomfort of premature long-johns.
It is during this time that paddlers, equally deceived by the first frosts of winter, might unduly cut their paddling season short. As such, leaving Calgary for a weekend in the mountains in the midst of a sleeting storm in late October, I was not expecting to enjoy fantastic conditions that rivalled the best this season. Throwing the Blackfin’s, the Nautical, and our fishing rods into a utility trailer to take to the mountains was an improbable bet on fortuity. The destination was unknown – the plan simply to drive until we stumbled upon improved weather, even just a lapse in the incessant wind and rain would have sufficed. Instead, we were treated to the stillness and calm that can only follow a storm, and reminded that the SUPing season in the Rockies extends well beyond the onset of fall, and even throughout the winter for the adequately prepared.
After an impromptu overnight in Field, BC, we departed through the mists brought on by the previous day’s soak. The moisture laden air was cold, thick and stable, and the clouds above breaking intermittently to allow beams of hot sunlight to evaporate the mist and vivify the colors of the valley. The day’s destination revealed itself to be Emerald Lake, a drive-up jewel hidden in Yoho pines, only 15 minutes from the town of Field, yet just far enough to be unburdened by cell-service. This is the lake that Tom Wilson, a Canadian Pacific Railway guide, in the 1880’s, decided was more deserving of the “emerald” title than nearby Lake Louise, which previously enjoyed the title and had to be renamed. We arrived to glassy, green water, true to it’s promise.
In the summer, Emerald Lake is a busy destination. This sole accommodation onsite is Emerald Lake Lodge, and the spectacular natural amphitheater in which it is situated draws tourists, photographers, and outdoor-enthusiasts from Canada’s transcontinental artery, HWY 1, and more well-known destinations nearby like Lake Louise or Banff. But recreating in the waning days of the shoulder season has it’s benefits. Nearing the end of October, the crowds have dispersed and the area can be enjoyed in almost perfect tranquility. We were the only watercraft on the entire lake – free to the break the glassy surface as we pleased and send undulating waves rippling out, quickly to be swallowed up and returned to rest by the vast expanse.
The temperature remained sunny and comfortable for the entire day, and we explored every corner of the lake, dry-casting flies and dragging back streamers under the surface. The fishing season in Yoho ends on October 31, and it is this time of year that the trout transform into spectacular colors to spawn. The fishing is catch-and-release only – and it would be difficult to understand any desire to destroy one of these brilliant specimens when adorned in their spawning colors. After scouring the entire lake, we eventually hit pay-dirt along the pebbly bottom shore in one of the furthest reaches, most easily accessible by water, and succeeded in sight-casting for a number of Brook trout, larger than the average trout in the Rockies and equally vivacious. As we released them into the glacial-hued depths, I can’t help but imagine what hardship they must endure under the ice during the winter months. Much like us shoulder-season paddlers, however, I’m sure the changing seasons hold more promise than what is apparent at first glance.
