For some twenty years, I’d heard about Grotto Canyon, discovered by The Palliser Expedition in 1858. Captain John Palliser described the discovery of a cave having a large stream which lead to a clear pool and green mossy bank. I finally had a chance to investigate the claims in early Autumn, just before the first snow fell.
Apparently, I’d gone about it from the other side than Palliser did. I started at the clear pool and mossy bank and moved West North West before finding a gigantic washout leading to the mouth of a narrow slot canyon – this was first I’ve heard of such a place in my local region of the Bow Valley and Kananaskis Country. Initially, getting over the dried out rock to get into the canyon was quite a chore as it was worn to a polish by thousands of years of raging water. Now, though, the stream was but a trickle, mostly making its presence known through sound rather than sight. It surfaced and hid beneath the canyon floor as it made it’s way down ‘Grotto Mountain’.
The canyon was thoroughly exciting to explore. I’d never seen such high smooth walls or such a tight passage between cliffs. It was warm enough that day that I shed my over shirt and left my tunic open, but that did not stop the sweat pouring down my back nor my thirst. The water in the stream was cold and clean and replenished my water carrier easily.
In truth, the stream widened enough at times that one had to wade through to get to an easier path up the canyon. It was hot enough, though, that my boots and puttees dried almost immediately.
There was some continuing danger as pebbles and stones fell with regularity into the passage near the walls, so I attempted to stay in the open to keep from being pelted.
Astonishingly, I came across ancient pictographs painted by the local natives, perhaps a thousand years ago. in an orange pigment. They seemed to depict devils with spears, but I’m no expert in their mythologies. Still a very exciting find! After walking some time, the sound of the water rose from a trickle to a quiet roar.
A widening of the canyon
It seemed I was getting closer to the source of the stream, which I surmised was more of a rapid creek during the springtime months.
Indeed, I had found a waterfall, one of two, that supplied the stream. The second more leaked from the entire cliff face, rather than fell from above.
And mentioning, ‘fell from above’, the pebbles and stones fell from a much greater height at this part of the canyon and were much larger in size. They pelted my shoulders and helmet, which I was quite thankful to be wearing. I steadied myself against the slick slide of the waterfall’s path, my hands pressed against the rock. Just then, a substantial sized rock struck my hand on the thumb and I nearly tumbled down the fall itself.
The pain was incredible but not as great as the shock. I’d realized I was in a spot of trouble and said so, aloud.
I’m in a spot of trouble.
I’d begun bleeding at an alarming rate, and tied my thumb tightly with a handkerchief and I’d cut off the finger of my glove, which I should have been wearing, to hold the dressing tight. Further exploration of the canyon was aborted as I rushed back to the camp with my hand clutched up and to my shoulder to slow the bleeding. Once safely back at camp, our doctor, Bananas Foster, stitched the gash thrice and instructed me to hold my hand in the ice cold pond to quell the throbbing. I eventually recovered with only minor numbness and a beautiful scar to remind me of taking safety precautions along the trail.
I never did reach the Grotto, but perhaps we’ll mount a proper expedition to find it in the future.
Palliser’s Grotto