Into The Mountains: Rockies, Banff, And Jasper

The amount of summer daylight in the northern latitudes was great for traveling and setting up a camp in the evening, though synchronizing to the time of day was somewhat disorienting for us southerners.  Watches had no place of consequence on a trip like this, but they were a subtle reminder of how soon the sun would be floating up again.  Unless the window shades were drawn tight, light from outside easily woke me up.  In a tent, there were no shades and sunlight filtered through the breathable fabric.  So the situation was worse there.  But sleeping in a tent had the advantage of feeling fresh, unlike a musty motel room with asylum white cinder block walls.  So it was all about making compromises wherever we rested.

After leaving Calgary we went searching in nearby Cochrane for a BMW motorcycle dealer, which was very difficult to find anywhere in Canada, let alone on this side of the country.  Eventually we found one, and I thought Dad had found his Motorcycle Heaven: Motospezial.  He loved the place, and said later he almost would have liked to stay longer than we did.  No dealership ever quite turned me on, but I did agree that Cochrane, Alberta had the best motorcycle dealership I had ever seen.  The parts selection was good though nothing overly abundant, but they had a full range of every two-wheeled BMW available on the well-kept showroom floor and the people were very pleasant.  Motospezial was owned by a husband and wife, with him coming from England and having spent a lot of time in Germany, and her from Germany (and, by default, having spent a lot of time in Germany…).

Dad needed a new side mirror since the BMW had vibrated off its center-stand and tipped over in front of our rented prefab chalet, breaking off the mirror.  They had one.  He also considered getting the starter relay switch that had screwed him over on the first day of this trip. And he also wanted new mufflers since the loud aftermarket boomers were rattling his brain coils.  The husband – who ran most of the show – exchanged a used set of two-into-one mufflers for Dad’s set-of-two plus $100 Canadian.  Everybody was happy when all was done.

We pointed our bikes toward the looming Canadian Rockies and whizzed through a landscape of growing hills.  Mounds turned into foothills, and we eventually wound through valleys, mountains, and a large Native Indian population on to Banff National Park.  Wow!  It was a place that spoke for itself, but I will translate a little anyhow.

First impressions came through dense forests of conifers rising steeper and steeper to the treeline, above which laid barren rock twisted and folded into curved strata.  The mountains were topped with windblown snow, and that vista especially appealed to Dad.  Wildlife seemed to love its relative safety in this artificially bounded natural home.  There were many deer, bighorn sheep, and a black, blue, and white bird that was quite possibly the most beautiful bird I had ever seen.

Our first walk-around, get-off-the-bikes place was Lake Louise.  Very pretty, but the huge hotel on its shore and the postcardy feel (that said a million people have already taken that same photograph I just did) diminished the effect for me.  Waterfowl Lake was actually much more to my liking.  Lots of bugs, no tour busses, no people, serene, and wonderful in its own right.  I was glad there was no overlook.  The overlook-mentality  – “let’s stop here because there is a place to pull off; if there is no pull-off then it must not be worth looking at” – did not work well with me.  That is not to imply that there was no pull-off for Waterfowl Lake, because there was one.  But a short hike removed me from the road and put me on a rock by the lapping water.  Granted it was a self-delineated distinction, but important nonetheless.

As the sun arced low in the valley, we continued heading north and came upon something truly impressive: the Weeping Wall.  Depending upon how one counted, there were sixteen distinct waterfalls tumbling over a high cliff.  In one instance, a waterfall broke over a ledge into two waterfalls.  And my personal favorite was one waterfall which evenly divided itself into four equally spaced waterfalls.  I was briefly tempted to take a picture, but realized that a quick photograph seemed to only belittle the true experience when actually present.

We ended our late evening with a walk onto Athabasca Glacier in Jasper National Park.  It felt like a large pile of snow to me, but conceptualizing the forces and magnitudes involved gave all glaciers a special interest.  Some glaciers we saw were very slowly cascading down the steep sides of mountains, impressive in their form, looking much like the frozen rivers of snow and ice that they were.

We rolled on through the Jasper twilight and parked for the evening at Jonas Creek campground.  After schlepping our baggage up flights of wooden stairs and into our woody campsite, we ate a good camp dinner of hot Mini Raviolis and canned fruit cocktail.  My head got cold during the night, lacking the protection of the sleeping bag, but I slept well even if not for long.

Continue……