Lake Louise

Thought this would deserve an entry all by itself especially as the place & hotel are so marvellous.

I have already waxed lyrical about the comforts of the hotel – it is referred to as a five star hotel in a six star setting, very true – so I will just concentrate on attempting to describe one of the most beautiful places on Earth. This isn’t just my opinion though, it is held by many, but I do share it. It really is a place that has to be seen to be believed, it is wonderful.

The lake gets its colour from the rock flour suspended in it and this changes during the year, especially when the lake freezes as it does every year. It would be wonderful to see this place through every season just to see how different it can look. I have seen photographs but we all know how different a natural location can be from a photograph. I was also surprised to find out that this is the highest altitude residential resort in Canada. (Yes of course one gets up higher when skiing or mountain climbing – but one doesn’t stay there.) They were even informing people of the symptoms of altitude sickness, fortunately I didn’t suffer from any, although the Andes are a little higher than here so I won’t speak too soon.

Having showered (one could hold a small party in the shower cubicle – in fact it was possible to stand in it with the shower going and not get wet) and breakfasted I thought I would catch up with the “Lakeside Stroll” the hotel offered. This was a gentle stroll around the near end of the lake with a guide who pointed out all the claims to fame & interesting bits pertaining to Lake Louise and its surrounding mountains. It was really informative and worth doing, so I was pleased I did. After this I thought I would do the lake walk. The lake is 2 Km long and about 0.5 Km wide, although with the effect of altitude and the thinness of the air the lake doesn’t look as long as it is. As a perspective the thickest layer one can see on the Victoria Glacier (the bits that look like icing on a cake) is 300m thick – about nine times the height of the hotel! When I got to the end of the lake there is the river feeding it to explore. So in true schoolboy fashion I imagined I was a pioneer explorer finding the source of the lake and set off over the broken rocks alongside the roaring white water – the water is white, from the rock sediment in it, and does roar, because it is flowing over large rocks & stones thrown down the mountain by avalanches. [It’s alright I was only pretending; I know the source of the lake is Victoria Glacier about 500 meters above me – but I’m not daft enough to attempt to get there!] When I had gone as far as I thought was safe to go, I sat on a large rock, had a cigarette and took in the beauty of the surroundings, and then set off back to the hotel.

When I got back I thought I would make use of the facilities at my disposal, so I went down to the gym had a gentle work out and then sat in the superb steam room for half an hour – glorious! Feeling much refreshed I then set about downloading all my photographs, so far, onto my laptop and putting them in folders so I would know what they were & where they came from. I got so engrossed in this that it was 10:00 and I was getting hungry before I knew it. As all the main restaurants shut at ten I was left with the Glacier Saloon to dine in which is open until 2:00. I toddled off down there got seated ordered a beer (I have grown quite partial to Rickards Red) and some food. My starter duly arrived and whilst I was enjoying it a bunch of drunken load people came in – no problem I come from Essex, if there was a binge-drinking county championships Essex would definitely be in the top three if not first. I had made the mistake of choosing a quiet table off to one side, but sadly, near the pool table – which was deserted when I arrived. I will be kind to the Canadians, as they have been good hoists to me so far, and call them Americans (they had loud twangy accents). *Sexist warning which may cause offense* The lead dog was a tall willowy blonde in a cowboy hat, who would probably ride anything after enough drinks, had a particularly painful voice. By this I literally mean painful as in causing pain. It was so loud and shrill that I understand wolf packs were migrating North that night. The last time I felt this sort of pain in my ears was at a Judas Priest gig at Hammersmith Odeon when rock diva Rob Halford (he of the amazing voice) did one of his super screams – however this was in a musical context and quite acceptable. The other problem was it just didn’t shut up. As this group numbered about twenty and all decided to play pool, I was not happy. I finished my starter in record time as this bunch of tosspots invaded my space – anyone who knows anything about me at all knows that “you don’t fuck with Phil when he’s eating”. People have been stabbed with forks for trying to steal chips off my plate. I take food seriously, it is to be enjoyed, savoured and appreciated. Also after last night’s dinner I was looking forward to some good food and wanted to enjoy it. After the second clattering of my chair with a pool cue and the thought of the next bastard that does that gets turned into a popsicle – the waiter arrived. (In the meantime the nice couple having a quiet meal diagonally opposite me had moved tables when their main courses arrived – smart move.) He asked if I would like to move to another table to instantly get the response: “Most certainly!” [I thank my mother for the “able to cut through steel plate and/or kill with a look” gene along with the ability to give the nastiest evil black clouded storm a human face.] And so I moved. Unfortunately the only available table at the other side of the room was in a corner and accompanied by two armchairs. This left the table at just below shoulder height when seated so I could have just cut my food into pieces, placed my chin on the table and scraped it directly into my mouth. Tempted though I was – I didn’t. I did however eat it as fast as possible and got out as the noise and shrieks from the she-wolf were beginning to make me feel violent. (I have to admit – if I am being honest, and I am – I was fighting the temptation to just walk over there and punch her in the throat. It is a despicable thing to even think – but I did – I am ashamed to say.) The waiter was also very aware of how angry I was without me saying a word and was particularly obsequiously arse-licky in his apologies and apparent concern as to my happiness, well-being and enjoyment of my meal. Needless to say I resisted the temptation to put “don’t fuck with me when I’m eating” in the “tip” section of the bill – I can’t write that small.

[Interlude: This leads me onto another soap box. The tip, gratuity, or “paying someone for something they are already being paid to do”. Discuss. I will. Let me start with a question: “How well can you carry a plate, say 10m, and put it down on a flat surface, say a table?” In what manner can the carrying be said to enhance the contents of the plate or its quality? Answer: None. If one were a waiter with three missing limbs and one managed to carry a bowl of soup without spilling a drop to the designated flat surface, I would call that impressive – but then perhaps one should be seeking alternative employment in the entertainments industry, say a circus. It still wouldn’t enhance the flavour or enjoyment of the soup however. If one were an obsequious toady volunteering one’s tongue as toilet paper substitute, would that enhance the flavour and/or enjoyment of a meal? No, I go to eating houses to eat and enjoy a meal not to be entertained or impressed by a plate carrier. Therefore I have to ask again: what is this tip for? In most “civilised” countries there is a minimum wage (we’ve even got one in the UK now) which will apply to any unskilled job. How much skill is required to carry a plate? None, basic balance and hand/eye coordination will do. So why are we, the customer, made to feel obliged to pay 10%+ more for the food we are being brought on a plate by the person who is paid to take customers the food they ordered on a plate? Where did this stupid idea come from? America is the obvious answer – so the Yanks had better watch out because skin-flint Phil is about to hit their country! Am I being tight or just raising a valid question? I would appreciate some feedback on this as I am beginning to feel that I should feel guilty for not paying over the odds for something I am happy to purchase for an advertised price. (Beware in Canada – I believe it is the same in the US – the price advertised does not include GST unless it says so!) This leads me to another point: the number of fast food places which have a “tips” container on the counter! What for? They didn’t even carry a plate anywhere! To me this is shame-robbery, i.e. one is being robbed of money for some implied shame. A perfect example is the in-room dining service offered at Chateau Lake Louise. Whatever one orders will have a $4 charge added to it plus an 18% gratuity - and I bet when the little bastard brings it up to your door he or she will expect some money as well! What for? Are your employers paying you? Yes. Then why should the customer pay you for doing your job as well? The answer is: they shouldn’t and we should all stop doing it now! Another laugh was on the bill for my buffet breakfast which had the “Tip” section on it as well – after filling it up myself I carried the fucking plate myself to my own table! Did they give me a 10% discount for this? No. Ah, I think I see it now: I should have taken some money out of one of my pockets and put it in a different one! Hey presto – one tip! I thank you and goodnight. (That’ll be a 10% handling charge sir.)]

Anyhow, I returned to my suite feeling bloated and annoyed but tired nonetheless as it was 13:30. I had terrible indigestion in the night and was not feeling very relaxed when at 6:50am this gong noise issued from the lounge. It didn’t startle me awake but it definitely got my attention. This was followed by an announcement: “Attention. The fire alarm has been sounded. We are currently investigating the cause of the alarm and will inform you shortly.” By this time I was fully dressed and heading for the stairs. On the way out there were a load of Japanese guests all getting ready to check out, which was obvious from the fact that they had all their luggage in the corridor awaiting pick up. They seemed totally unfazed by the whole affair and were carefully arranging their suitcases, etc. into well ordered piles, stacks & lines (perhaps it is some ancient Japanese art form I am unaware of) and drifting in and out of each other’s rooms. I think I was the only one who actually bothered evacuating the building – I was certainly the only one standing outside the door I came out of! As one might have expected; it was a false alarm. By this time though I was awake and the sun was rising on Victoria Glacier. I returned to my room, got my camera, and went back outside to take some photographs.
As this was my check out day I had packed my deluxe luggage ready for the bell staff to collect and was all set to go by 8:00. As we weren’t being picked up until 13:30, and check out time was noon, I decided to have a relaxing bath – so I did. After checking out I sat in one of the couches scattered about the hotel (there are many) and read my book. I did doze off a bit, but didn’t miss my pickup.

And so I bid a fond farewell to Lake Louise. It will sound odd, I know, but I had this feeling I would miss it – the lake and the scenery around it. I know I had only been there two days but I suppose that is what happens when something makes an impression on one’s soul. I defy anyone to go there and not remember it forever after – I know I shall.