Epic Hikes of the World ( PDFDrive )

of hoary marmots play on the rocks, whistling and hooting softly to each other, their
ears twitching and fur rippling in the breeze.
© All Canada Photos | Alamy
a marmot
Further up the mountain lies the sprawling meadow known as the Snowbowl. It’s
late August now, and the meadow is laced with snowmelt pools, interspersed
amongst a carpet of wildflowers and tundra. It feels thrillingly wild and empty, and I
stop for a while to watch a hawk circling high above the mountaintops, scanning
the valley below for unseen prey.
By the time I reach my overnight spot at Curator Campground, it’s early evening,
and the sky’s the colour of candy floss. It’s not far from the famous Shovel Pass,
named by plucky adventurer Mary Schaffer, who got stuck here in deep snow in
1911; she and her guide Jack Otto had to dig their way through using shovels
fashioned from tree trunks. I find a patch of grass and pitch my tent, boiling some
tea as I stretch out my sleeping bag and give my aching legs a rest. Soon enough,
I get chatting to some other hikers, and we share hiking tales over a supper of
camp-cooked chilli, followed by biscuits, chunks of dark chocolate and mugs of hot
tea. Afternoon drifts into evening, evening into night; stars prick the darkening sky,
and a chill descends over the valley. I head off to bed by the light of my head-