Return to Grasslands

Back in September 2021, I took a road trip through Saskatchewan and Alberta. One of my stops was the West Block of Grasslands National Park (link to story), where I specifically mentioned spotting prickly pear cacti on 70 Mile Butte — and expressed a desire to return when they were in bloom. For nearly four years, I’ve been imagining that shot.

When it became unlikely that I’d make it to Newfoundland in the van this summer (probably for the best, since my first construction broke on this trip), I decided my next best option was to head for Grasslands.

I’d been checking in periodically with the park, trying to time things right. I expected to go around the last week of June or the first week of July. The plan was to spend 5–7 days there over Canada Day, working during the day and hiking up the buttes in the evenings, waiting for the cacti to bloom.

Then, on June 18, I checked in one more time and learned the cacti had already been blooming for two days — a full 1–2 weeks early. I took the rest of the week off work and left that afternoon for Val Marie, arriving around 2 or 3 in the morning.

The next day I explored the west edge of the park, checking out some of the picnic areas before heading up toward 70 Mile Butte — a challenging 2 km trail that branches off from Eagle Butte, another 2 km trail. My first hike that day was in the middle of the day, mostly focused on scouting for cacti in bloom with a strong composition. I wandered all over both buttes until I found a beautiful patch of blooming cacti on 70 Mile Butte, with a striking view of Eagle Butte trailing off into the distance. It was as close to perfect as I was going to find.

My second ascent of the day was timed for golden hour. The plan all along had been to line up that shot with the sunset in the background. I hiked straight to the top, but paused to take in the views and appreciate some of the other wildflowers on display.

As I made my way to the patch of cacti, the sun slipped behind a thick patch of cloud. I started to worry that I’d missed the warm golden light I’d envisioned. And in a way, I had. But not all was lost. I waited for more than half an hour. Eventually, the sun peeked back out, just in time to give me some lovely light on the cacti in the foreground — with a sunburst breaking behind them.

There’s a range of emotions you feel in moments like this — something that probably deserves its own post. You don’t get many chances at a shot like this. You have to be in the right place at the right time. With careful planning and a bit of luck — nature always has a say — you might find yourself with a rare opportunity to make a photograph you’ve been imagining for four years.

Watching the sun disappear behind the clouds felt like defeat. I could feel my spirits sink. It felt like I had invested so much and missed it by mere moments. In that moment, it was hard to appreciate what I did capture. It wasn’t until I got home and saw the image on my computer that I could really appreciate the piece of art I had made.

The next day, I drove the Ecotour Scenic Route, stopped at a few more patches of blooming prickly pear, and spent some time photographing burrowing owls.

A surprise highlight from the trip came while I was crouching over a pincushion cactus, using my 20mm lens to get close. A small black spider with a red hourglass shape crawled out of a nearby hole to see what was going on. I didn’t realize until later that it was a western black widow — one of the most venomous spiders in North America. Had I known what it was in the moment, I would’ve been much less calm about it.

That night, the prototype bed in my van broke, and I drove home the next morning.