Vermilion Lakes, Banff National Park
Kerri and I have driven past these lakes the past few days and wondered about getting out on them with the kayaks. I even saw others on there with canoes, so I knew it was ‘kayak-able’. It was not until it was recommended to us by another full-timer. A quick google map search told us we could recon for launch locations the next morning and it turned out there is a public dock to launch from right down the street.
That very evening, at just past 7pm, we set out with the kayaks to explore the Bow River and the Vermilion Lakes that are connected by 3/4 of a mile of what has to be the most ideal kayaking trail ever.
The trip started as expected; with the eagerness and excitement of the adventures ahead. We paddled up the creek that would eventually lead us into the lakes, running across a low train bridge that crosses the river. Just as we were about to go under we could hear a train approaching so we waited. The horn blared and our attention turned to the goose that had not yet left the tracks. When the train came into sight it was moving at full speed and the goose stood no chance. He got a single flap of his wings before a poof of feathers showered down from the bridge. I captured most of this on the camera while Kerri watched in horror.
And if you are not crying yet, this is what we found on the other side of the tracks…
Don’t play on the tracks kids!
After a few moments to shake off what we just witnessed, we were able to continue up the creek. Within minutes we were distracted – thank goodness – by a grazing elk on the side of the river. We nearly had a mid-river collision, but after a few obligatory photos we were back on the move with no such collision (thanks primarily to Kerri, I did nothing to stop it as she is quite nice to collide with).
In short order we made the turn into the final stretch of creek (so thankful for the signage) that would open up into the Vermilion Lakes. Before heading into the lake, a small off-chute caught my attention. I veered my kayak and Kerri followed. We dodging one fallen tree after another before finally meeting a full blockade across the water.
We were forced to turn around, but not before spotting some more wild life. A flurry of photographs were taken before he finished his task and sank out of view. While I was confident that we had run across yet another beaver (our third since Grand Teton) Kerri was not so sure. She was confident in that it was a Muskrat. The question goes unsettled; North American Beaver or Muskrat? Kerri says the tail was more “rat like” (I never saw it) and it was definitely smaller than the other beavers we saw, so I may – just maybe – have to concede that it could be – just could be – a Muskrat. We may never know.
Eventually we moved on and entered the Vermilion Lake where no more wild life would interrupt our ‘yaking, but the scenery would certainly keep our speeds to a crawl and our cameras clicking away.
On our way back we lazily rode the current down the creek back to our launch point, paying our respects to the fallen goose. In the end, we covered only a few short miles in two hours on the water. It was past 9:30 pm when we were loaded back onto the truck and heading back to camp. The sun was still out, though hanging well below the mountains. We both agreed that if we could have removed the highway noise, this would top the list as best kayaking spot… but for that stinking highway.
