The Onion – A Glacier, A Valley, and a Day Shared With Our Favourite People

🌄 Trail Overview

Distance: ~18.8 km

Elevation Gain: ~940 m

Route Type: Out & back

Difficulty: Hard

Time: 6–9 hours

Start Point: Bow Lake, Icefields Parkway

Best Season: Late July–September for snow‑free travel and safe glacier access

A Day That Started With Uncertainty

We hiked The Onion in September 2025, right in that perfect shoulder season when the mornings are crisp, the larches start hinting at gold, and the mountains feel like they’re settling into fall. Our best friends had flown out to visit, and we’d lined up a handful of bucket‑list trails for them — the kind you save for people who truly appreciate the mountains the way you do.

But the day started with a bit of confusion. A rockslide had closed a nearby trail, and the rumour mill was working overtime. When we pulled into Bow Lake, a girl was already turning around after driving three hours because she thought The Onion was closed too. Honestly, I don’t blame her — the signage was vague, and the whole area felt uncertain.

But I’m persistent. We waited for the Parks office at Bow Lake to open, asked the staff directly, and sure enough: The Onion was open. And because so many people assumed otherwise, we ended up with nearly the entire 18 km to ourselves.

Walking Into the Valley With People Who Make Everything Better

There’s something special about starting a hike with your closest friends — the kind of people who make even the gloomy mornings feel exciting. The sky was heavy with cloud, Bow Lake was a muted blue-grey, and the mountains were half-hidden behind mist. But even in that moody light, the place felt alive.

What made it even better was simply being out there with them. We don’t get to see these friends often, so when we do, days like this feel even more meaningful. Watching them take in the valley — noticing the small details, asking questions, pointing things out — made the whole hike feel special in a way that goes beyond the scenery. It’s the kind of shared experience you tuck away and remember, one of those big days on the trail that becomes part of your story together.

The Braided River and the Stark Beauty of the Valley

As the trail climbed away from Bow Lake, the valley opened up into a wide, glacial plain. There’s no dense forest here — just raw alpine terrain shaped by centuries of ice and water. The clouds began to break apart, letting in small bursts of sunlight that lit up the peaks around us. Every time the sun hit the rock, the whole valley shifted from moody to golden.

One of the best parts of The Onion is how you’re walking alongside the glacier stream for most of the day. It’s this constant presence — sometimes rushing, sometimes quiet — guiding you deeper into the valley. The elevation gain is steady and manageable the whole way; there’s never a moment where it suddenly kicks up or feels punishing. Instead, the trail just gradually rises with the landscape, almost without you noticing. With the sound of the water beside you and the wide‑open valley ahead, the whole hike settles into a really natural rhythm.

Eventually we reached the braided river flats — one of the most striking parts of the entire hike. The river winds across the valley floor in a network of silver ribbons, constantly splitting and rejoining itself. Under cloud, the water looked metallic; under sun, it glowed turquoise. It felt like walking across another planet.

I found myself feeling a bit surreal in that stretch — the valley is so stripped back and beautiful that it almost doesn’t feel real. It made me pause and take everything in more intentionally.

Into the Canyon and Toward the Ice

As we moved deeper into the valley, the walls narrowed into a canyon. The sound of the river echoed between the rock, and the air grew noticeably colder. A thick band of mist settled in as we climbed, and for a while the glacier was almost completely hidden — just a faint outline in the fog. It wasn’t until we were right beside it that it finally came into view.

We stopped for a quick lunch at the alpine lookout, watching the clouds drift around the peaks, then continued upward toward the ice. The fog lifted just enough for us to see the glacier’s edge, and we ended up getting so close you could practically reach out and touch it. It was a first for me, standing that close to something that old and that massive. The colour of the ice, the depth of the blue, the sheer size of it — all of it hit me at once.

The Final Climb and a View Worth Every Step

From the glacier, the trail climbs again toward the rounded ridge that gives The Onion its name. The views expand with every step — Bow Lake behind you, the glacier below you, endless peaks stretching out in every direction.

Just as we reached the top, the sun finally broke through for good. The entire valley lit up in warm, golden light. We stood there for a long time, not talking much, just taking it all in. Those quiet, shared moments are the ones that stick with you.

The Walk Back and the Warmth of Good Company

The return trip felt lighter. The gloom had lifted, the river glowed turquoise, and the whole valley looked alive. We laughed more, stopped for photos, pointed out details we’d missed on the way up. It was our second big hike in three days — the reality of squeezing as much as we could into an extended weekend with friends — and I’ll admit my legs were feeling a little rubbery on the way down. But even with the fatigue, it was one of those days that fills you up instead of draining you.

Sharing The Onion with our best friends made the experience richer. Their excitement, their appreciation, their sense of wonder — it reminded me why I love these mountains so much. Sometimes you need someone else’s fresh eyes to see a familiar landscape in a new way. And sometimes the best adventures aren’t just about where you go, but who you bring with you.

The Onion is one of the most unique hikes in Banff — a mix of glacier, canyon, braided river, and high alpine views that you don’t get anywhere else. But for us, it was more than that. It was a day of connection, awe, and gratitude. A reminder that the mountains are always better when shared.