WONDERFUL WATERTON

Strong winds or not, the M.V. International has been continuously ferrying tourists between Waterton, Alberta and Goat Haunt, Montana for the last eighty years. Under a clear blue sky, it heads south on the deepest lake in the Rockies. The vista is fjord-like and we're passing pristine, untrammeled wilderness. The shoreline is densely wooded, crowned by mountain peaks, many dusted with snow. Only some commentary from our interpretive guide interrupts the silence.

As we pass Mount Bertha, the guide tells us about a kindly town pioneer, who has that mountain, a lake, and some waterfalls named after her. In prohibition days, seems Bertha supplied prescriptions for "medicinal drink" and the townsfolk were clearly appreciative of her generosity. At Sleeping Chief Mountain, he carefully points out how the peaks form the profile of a man's face. I should be glad I am not here in winter, when the winds on the lake can reach hurricane force. The Blackfeet Indians believed the wind was cursed and while they came to the lake to hunt and fish, they would never live on the shore.

We cross the 49th parallel, the border definitively marked by a cleared swath snaking up the mountains on both sides of the lake. Through the efforts of local Rotary Clubs, Waterton National Park was linked to Montana's Glacier National Park in 1932. Together, they formed the world's first International Peace Park, and it is one of thirteen worldwide. On our boat, we have the easiest of border crossings and soon we disembark at Goat Haunt.

The deer are a good start to our Waterton wildlife viewing and, encouraged, we drive the Red Rock Parkway at dusk. Here, prairie meets the Rockies as golden swaths of grasses abruptly give way to steep walls of ancient rock. From these mountains come black and grizzly bears to feed on the berry bushes. Sighting a "bear jam", a bunch of cars pulled willy-nilly off the road, we stop too. It is easy to spot an enormous cinnamon colored black bear. Totally oblivious to its rapt audience, it moves from shrub to bush and its long, pink tongue quickly licks up dark berries. When it disappears in the distant shrubs, we continue until the Parkway culminates at Red Rock Canyon, where the rocks are the colour of bricks. On our return drive, we are rewarded with several more bear sightings until the dusky light makes it impossible to spot any more.

A visit to Waterton would be incomplete without a stop at the bison paddock north of town. Here, descendents of the craggy, shaggy, massive creatures that once ruled the plains in the millions, shuffle along. One look at the thick fur around their faces and it is easy to see how adapted to life on the prairies they are. The four strong winds of Alberta are no problem for them.