TRAVELING IN STYLE : Canada’s Castle in the Wild : Set on Some of the World’s Greatest Natural Real Estate, the Banff Springs Hotel Still Fulfills Its Original Mission: Opulence Amid the Wilderness

In the iconic photograph, a stone edifice with shining towers rises above evergreen forests. At its feet flows a torrent of milk-white foam. All around are massive, snow-gilded peaks. The image is wrapped in plumes of steam, like clouds seeking heaven. Here is a castle in the wilderness. Or perhaps the backdrop for a 1930s musical starring Jeanette MacDonald, with Nelson Eddy stuffed into a Mounties uniform crooning “Blue Canadian Rockies.”

The famous photograph of the Banff Springs Hotel, shot in 1920, was meant to signify the romance of opulence in a wild world. Like deluxe modern eco-touring in Antarctica, like African safaris in Hemingway’s time, the conception of the hotel’s railroad promoters was to lure tourists into an extraordinary adventure while providing the amenities of an international spa.

When Cornelius Van Horne, manager of the Canadian Pacific Railway, set the cornerstone for a hotel near the government-owned hot springs at Banff in 1886, he was on the front line of a North American tourist tradition. The United States had pioneered the notion of federal conservation by legislating a preserve for Yosemite’s giant sequoia groves in 1864. And in 1872, Congress created the first national park to protect Yellowstone’s geysers and paint-box canyons. The New World did not have culture to compete with the art tours of Italy, Greece and France. But it did have unspoiled canyons, deserts, forests and mountains.

By the late 19th Century, the popularity of these new “public parks and pleasuring grounds” in the western wild led railroad barons such as Van Horne, and soon afterward the Northern Pacific’s Louis J. Hill, to build the ever-more-fanciful grand hotels that still fill with tourists every summer: the Inn at Old Faithful, El Tovar Hotel, the Prince of Wales Hotel in Glacier Park at Waterton, and the Chateau Lake Louise.

“Since we can’t export the scenery,” Van Horne said, “we will have to import the tourists.”

Tourists, then, would help repay the hugely expensive enterprise of building transcontinental railways. Tourists would lead to the settlement of the Rockies and more revenue for the railroads. But the Edwardian adventurers who came west to cure their ills in mountain hot springs, or to ride horseback through alpine forests, or to test their endurance on glaciers, were not the democratic motor-home hordes you will see this summer. Before automobiles made travel available to all, the Rocky Mountain parks were playgrounds for the wealthy.

Eastern voyagers, such as members of the Yale Climbing Club, could step off a Pullman car in Banff or Lake Louise and be taken by carriage to the elegant lodge. Swiss guides with fedoras, alpenstocks, pipes and coiled ropes led long-skirted ladies over ice fields. Storied mountain men such as Wild Bill Peyto or Jimmy Simpson offered fishing and hunting pack trips, complete with white linen, silver and Chinese cooks.

Little more than a century ago, only game trails led to the Cave and Basin hot springs at Banff, where trappers could peel off their long johns and soak away a winter’s worth of grime.

The Canadian Pacific opened the mountains to more-civilized travelers, and these days you can speed to Banff on four-lane highways. When you arrive, there will be no tent encampment in the wilderness; you will drive down broad Banff Avenue past galleries and restaurants. Where Chinese coolies once labored with pickaxes, street signs are printed in English and Japanese to accommodate the Asian visitors who make up 30% of Banff’s tourist trade.

Much has changed in the Canadian Rockies, but the fantasy remains. The Banff Springs Hotel still towers over alpine firs and pines. Now, however, a velvet-green 27-hole golf course borders the winding Bow River. Instead of clip-clopping into the circular entrance to the grand hotel in a horse-drawn carriage, visitors join the teeming cars and tour buses.

There is a new convention center, and the glassed-in domes of a world-class spa in the making. But thanks to the Canadian parks system, much of the surrounding countryside remains wild. Elk bed down for the night on the golf course. Deer are a nuisance in the gardens. And at sunset, the great uncaring spine of the Rockies still glows salmon and pink and glorious.

Most tourists come to Banff through the international airport in Calgary. Like Dallas, Calgary is a raw prairie city built by oil. Its skyscrapers and suburbs have sprung full-blown from Alberta’s great plains. Looking east, north and south, a person sees flatlands--grass, wheat, cattle. Look west, and the promise of a different world emerges. Serrated peaks of the Rocky Mountain Front crack upward in an abrupt line of jagged faults and folds. In a mere 77 miles, visitors pass from the land of buffalo and oil to the land of mountain goats and grizzly bears.

But my traveling companion, Bill, and I did not come to Banff from Calgary. We drove north on U.S. 93 from our home in western Montana, crossing the border into British Columbia at Roosville.

Our road continued north along the Kootenay River to where it almost meets the headwaters of the Columbia River at Canal Flats. What an amazing juncture! Two of the West’s great rivers, born in the glacial heights on the British Columbia side of the Continental Divide, flowing side by side in opposite directions. While the Kootenay courses south, the Columbia heads north, gathering tributary force before looping south on its run to the Pacific.

We entered Kootenay National Park at Radium Hot Springs and wound along the gentle curls of the Kootenay River through a green, melting, avalanche-striped valley. It was April, and the mountains on either side were draped in white snow, startling in their brilliance against a sky of pure deep blue. If you love the wild country, as I do, it is a great comfort to realize that this is just the southern tip of a vast national parks system that becomes Banff National Park where the highway crosses the Continental Divide into Alberta. From Banff, the mountain road passes north through Lake Louise, then continues its wonderland route along Icefields Parkway for about 150 miles into Jasper National Park.

It had been years since I last visited Banff, and I am delighted to report that unlike so many popular western resort towns, it has not bled its beauty into the ugly arteries of strip cities and unchecked suburban sprawl. Sitting primly astride the Bow River, with its tree-lined streets and bungalows, the town retains a provincial identity, comfy and inviting.

We cross the river over a stone bridge and curve to the left in front of park headquarters onto Spray Avenue, which leads us to the circular cul-de-sac of the imposing Banff Springs Hotel.

Here, at last, is my palace of stone. Bright flags salute the breezy mountains. The grounds abound with tulips, daffodils and peonies. Folks who promenade in and out are as gaily bedecked as the flowers, and I am surrounded by chatter in many tongues. This is a 1990s variation of the scene Morley Roberts described in 1925. Roberts was a railroad man who had helped build the tortuous rail line into Banff in 1883. Returning nearly 40 years later, the old-timer was incredulous:

I could not take beautiful Banff seriously. I dreamed it, and like so many dreams it was at once absurd and beautiful . . . . It was full of most curious - looking people who seemed very busy about nothing at all . . . . Some women, so greatly determined on being noticed as to defy ridicule , flaunted about in long shining boots and scarlet jackets and jockey caps, while others wore clothes “made in America” in the back woods, which looked as if they had been cut out with an ax.

The hotel is, somehow, even huger than I remembered. Part Loire chateau, part Scottish baronial manor, its main tower rises to 11 stories. In 1911, the Canadian Pacific imported Italian stonecutters and Scottish masons to build architect Walter Painter’s fairy-tale concoction. The tower and its matching, outspread wings are faced in gray “Rundle-rock,” named for Banff’s principal peak, quarried from the banks of the Spray River nearby.

When I enter, the grand lobby does not disappoint. The original red English tile is spread with carpets. The hotel’s public and guest rooms have been refurbished recently to resemble the plush, potted-palm elegance of earlier eras.

My eyes wander toward a shop featuring Canadian leathers and furs. If I want to spend my American dollars (when I visited this spring, the exchange rate offered a hefty 34% to 37% advantage over the Canadian dollar), I could descend to the lower level and visit 40-plus stores featuring sweaters, sportswear and local crafts. Instead, I follow a wedding party to the balustrade overlooking Mt. Stephen Hall. Below, on the Bedford lime flagstones of the imitation 15th-Century Gothic chamber, a bride in trailing satin prepares to meet her fate. Sunlight refracts from round stained-glass windows, and music rises to the oak beams of the crested ceiling.

But I do not linger, for we are anxious to see our room. We had reserved a $170 (Canadian) room, equivalent to a very reasonable $110 American, with a king-size bed and a view of the golf course and the shining peaks that engulf the Bow Valley. These are about $22 U.S. more expensive than equally appointed rooms that scan the hotel grounds and parking areas. But even in most of the cheaper rooms, the mountains are visible.

At the desk, a sweet-faced receptionist informs us that because the hotel is oversold, we’ve been upgraded to a two-room suite that would ordinarily cost about $250. Our tower suite has dormered ceilings, a spa-style bathtub, stone fireplace and medieval-style tapestry over the bed. It is spacious and clean, but there is always some thorn to keep paradise at a distance. These rooms are hot. We open windows to let in the cool mountain air. That helps, but as long as the sun warms the hotel’s stone walls, the room remains toasty.

Of course, in the northern Rockies, storm clouds mask the sun more often than not. But during the summer, visitors would surely have a problem. The hotel has no air-conditioning. Some rooms are equipped with ceiling fans, and portable fans are available, but if you plan a summer trip, book a lower-story, north-facing room, even at the expense of the view. You can go outside for the scenery.

Unpacked and restless, Bill suggests a drink before dinner. There are 14 restaurants and lounges to choose from. We go directly to the U-shaped Rundle Room on the mezzanine. Can there be a more beautiful watering hole? Huge glass walls look over the Bow Valley golf course. To the west is Mt. Rundle, which sweeps down from a white-crested ridge. Snow-blue peaks on three sides reflect the fading light. My Irish coffee is delectable, Bill’s Bombay martini is perfect. A man plays show tunes on the piano. The bar hums with wedding guests in tuxedos and silks.

Hunger pangs drive us to the Rob Roy Room, where we have reservations. The huge, chandelier-hung dining hall, with its soft carpets, marble arches and sedate diners in suits and ties, gives me deja vu --the room seems frozen in the 1950s of my youth.

Seated at a table where candlelight shines on crystal glasses and heavy silver, I begin with fine house-smoked salmon. Bill chooses a tasty bisque of tomatoes, roasted peppers and scallops, but his steamed seafood entree is as dull as the dance-floor band. I am envious of the flaming garlic-basted steaks a waiter is preparing at the next table. Meanwhile, the kilted waitress tosses my Caesar salad, rich in raw egg and anchovy and fresh ground pepper. The best taste, however, is the wine.

“Canadian wine?” I say, turning up my nose.

“Try it,” the waiter says. “Take my word.”

The 1989 Okanogan Mission Reserve Chardonnay is crisp and fruity. We finish one bottle and order another. The waiter smiles. I am smiling, too.

The band strikes up a polka. Guests in their finery hop and twirl. I watch a silver-haired gentleman and his shy teen-age daughter. We smirk at a bearded Lothario wearing a Western shirt and a felt hat, who is strutting like a cowboy.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s dance.”

“Not drunk enough,” Bill replies.

Late the next morning, stuffed from an elaborate Sunday brunch of eggs Benedict, fresh mussels and squid, sausages, salad and cherries jubilee, we take to the road for Lake Louise.

We follow the Bow River north for 40 miles through deepening forests, the ever-present Rockies preening their peaks in the sun. In less than an hour we are within sight of the famous glacial lake, set like an oval sapphire in a glowing silver and platinum rim of mountains.

The Chateau Lake Louise is stately splendor. It doesn’t possess the dark romantic powers of Banff, but its symmetrical, eggshell-colored wings open wide to embrace the lake’s shores.

As we hike up a trail along a sloping hillside, we inhale the thin, pine-scented air. Below, Lake Louise gleams milky turquoise--characteristic of water tinted by glacial silts--and on its unruffled surface the mountains have spawned upside-down twins.

Bill begins to sing. Off key. He does not know any words but the refrain, “In the blue Canadian Rockies . . .” I join in. We are not glamorous like Jeanette MacDonald or Nelson Eddy in his Mountie hat and brass-buttoned red jacket. But we are as happy as stars. In this high, sun-gilded world, fresh from the indulgent pleasures of the Banff Springs Hotel, how else can a traveler be?

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GUIDEBOOK / Canadian Club

Prices: All prices are approximate and computed at the rate of $1.35 to the American dollar. Hotel prices are for a double room for one night.

Getting there: Delta Airlines, United Airlines and Air Canada have daily flights from Los Angeles to Calgary. Nonstop service is available on Delta and Air Canada. Bus service to Banff ($22 one way) is available, along with rental cars.

Where to stay: The Banff Springs Hotel, Box 960, Banff, Alberta TOL OCO, telephone (403) 762-2211, fax (403) 762-5755; reservations (800) 441-1414. Rooms at Banff Springs range from small standard rooms with limited views to mountain-view one-bedroom suites. Rates: $130-$281. Where to eat: The hotel has 14 restaurants and lounges. Among the offerings: bouillabaisse for $7.35 at the Wine Bar, braised veal shank for $9.60 at the Pavillion. The Rob Roy Room serves more upscale continental fare, with Flambe Steak Rob Roy, for two, at $38.50. Activities: The 27-hole Banff Springs Golf Resort is open May 1 to Oct. 15. Breakfast and lunch are served on the terrace of the new clubhouse. Horseback riding, river rafting, fishing or tennis may be arranged through the hotel concierge. The spa is scheduled to open by July and will have whirlpools and saunas and offer massages, herbal wraps and facials.

For more information: Banff/Lake Louise Tourism Bureau, P.O. Box 1298, Banff, Alberta TOL OCO; tel. (403) 762-0270, fax (403) 762-8545. Or contact the Canadian Consulate General, Tourist Information, 300 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles, 90071; (213) 346-2700.