That time I didn’t see Bigfoot

It was a cold, long, lonely drive paralleling the Canadian Rockies headed south between Hinton and Nordegg when I came across it. I’d been shooting all along the Icefields Parkway for days and wanted to get off the beaten path, so I headed to the logging roads off to the east. I travelled for miles and miles without seeing a single soul, experiencing the very definition of wilderness.

I’d been captivated by lakes filled with helium bubbles trapped in the layers of ice, mesmerised by the jagged, gargantuan peaks capped by snow, and bewildered by how life could possibly thrive here in an otherwise barren landscape.

In amongst these mountains sits Morant’s Curve, a famous viewpoint named after Nicholas Morant who was the staff photographer for the Canadian Pacific Railroad. It’s a special place for us photographers because it’s named after one of us, and it affords spectacular views of the passing train.

But it was away from all this that I encountered something a little out of place.

Not far from Nordegg, by Canadian standards, but not close by ‘normal’ standards, I came across a track that I just couldn’t explain.

The snow was fairly fresh but had some time to melt in the warm sun. I knew I was looking at something that had walked through on two legs, not four.

My size 11 (US 13 / EU 46) beside it seems like a child’s foot. The snow was packed but the print goes all the way through to the ground beneath, meaning there must have been a tremendous weight. But the size doesn’t describe it and there’s no context without the second photo: -

The stride length is nearly 2 metres (6 foot) and the slope is steep. There’s just no reason for a person to have walked through here, nowhere for a person to go in that direction, and easier routes to take to climb the slope to the left and right.

I’d entered their backyard. I was in someone else’s domain. And the signs were clear!

How does that make you feel?

Much love

Dave