Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, September 6-9

September 6 continued

After leaving Pincher Creek, we biked through rolling grasslands, steep ups and downs, until we reached Waterton Lakes National Park about 30 miles later.  This took awhile, as our road took us southwest into the strong wind, and we were happy to see the sign for the park.  

Just inside the park, we stopped at a bison viewing area.  There were no bison, but we did see a black bear.  How funny to see one so far out of the forest!

It was a few miles out of the way into the park, maybe 5 miles each way, but we didn't mind.  Biking into the valley where the lakes are was absolutely beautiful: big mountains, prairie grasses, sprawling blue lakes, and raptors everywhere.  We saw a number of red-tailed and swainson's hawks, as well as a kestrel.

Upon arriving at the village (there is an actual town at the end of the road, right on the shore of the biggest lake), we changed into hiking gear and headed up to the Bear's Hump.  It was a short and steep hike that gave a birds-eye view of the lake and the surrounding mountains. We could see clear to Montana!  (About 10 miles away.)

The view from the Bear's Hump.

Then we headed back and set up camp surreptitiously in a day-use area right by one of the lakes.  We're not supposed to camp here, but we set up late and will leave early and are well practiced in Leave No Trace.   The gibbous moon is bright on the water, and the sound of the waves lightly washing ashore will lull us soon to sleep.

-Danny

September 7 

A big day for our trip! 

1) We cross from Canada into the US.

2) We've been biking for exactly 3 months.

3) We biked off the British Columbia map that we've been on for the last month or so. 

A few things we'll miss in Canada:

1) The French writing on all the packages; makes things much more interesting when there are two languages to read.

2) The distances in km on the road signs. When you convert the km to miles in your head, the number is always smaller!

3) Dempster's! We've eaten so much bread and so many tortillas from this creative Canadian bakery. 

A few advantages we're excited about in the US. 

1) Camping is significantly cheaper.

2) We can use internet and gps on the phone. 

Journal: 

We wake up on our lake shore after a quiet, restful night. The wind is already whipping up waves. We get on our bikes and head towards the US border! We start by climbing long huge hill after long huge hill. The crossing is at Chief Mountain and they sure make you work to get there! 

Even though it's a a challenging morning, I'm glad we are crossing at this place because it has some interesting history. In 1932, Canada and the US teamed up to combine Waterton Lakes and Glacier into the first International Peace Park. This park is not only a symbol of the peace between Canada and the US, but it also showcases the importance of countries working together to promote conservation and sustainable land use. Fish and bears don't recognize park boundaries. 

At the border we have to wait in a line of cars,  but when it's our turn the guy only asks a few questions then lets us through. 

US-Canada border crossing. 

After crossing we bike down the Chief Mountain Parkway into Montana ranch country. We encounter cows and horses in the middle of the road. I guess they don't get much traffic here. 

Montana!

Horses in the road.

Once we're out of the mountains the wind really picks up. It varies between a headwind and a crosswind. I'm not sure which one is worse. I'm constantly shifting my gears and my balance to stay upright and keep moving forward. This continues for the rest of the day. 

We stop for lunch in a little town called Babb, then continue to the start of the Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park.

Just inside the park we stop at the visitors center to figure out our plan for the park. Unfortunately since my backpack is currently in for repairs we'll be limited to day hikes, but we're still really excited! At the center there is also lots of educational information. We learn that predictions show all the glaciers melting by 2030. They're going to have to re-name the park! 

Our headwind.

Biking a windy 6 miles into the park brings us to Rising Sun campsite where we go for a freezing swim in St. Mary lake and watch the mountains turn gold in the setting sun. We also meet Cameron, a touring cyclist who has just come across the US. After chatting for a bit, we decide to bike together for the next few days! This should be fun. 

-Tamara

September 8

We got on the road early to get started up Logan Pass.  Cameron was with us as well.  The road took us first past St Mary Lake.  Fog on the water hid the lake at first, and as we climbed up higher onto the shore, we could see a little island poking through the mist.  The higher mountains beyond gave the whole scene a very picturesque air.  

As the morning continued, we turned away from the lake and began to climb.  It was 6% grade pretty much the whole way, so not very steep or strenuous, and the cars were courteous, giving us a lot of room on the narrow road.  We passed Siyeh Bend, a large switchback in the road, and continued up.  Now we had great views of the whole valley below, and the clouds hanging down there gave us the wonderful feeling that we had come up much higher than we actually had.  The road was cut into the side of a sheer cliff, held up at times with huge retaining walls of hand-cut stone masonry.

  Part of the road was being rebuilt, and the workers on the side of the road were chiseling and hammering the rocks by hand.

At one point we saw three mountain goats way up on the hillside.  They must have been miles away.  A group of three older folks stopped when they saw us looking through our binoculars, and they found a group of six more!  We enjoyed talking with them; they speculated that travel at such a young age is a new thing, that our generation is fortunate to have the opportunity.  We agreed.  They also told us that the top of the pass was just ahead, and we, expecting to climb up all day, were pleasantly surprised.  

At the top was Cameron, cheering us on, and a visitor center with a full parking lot.  We quickly changed into hiking clothes and set off on our hike to Hidden Lake.  It was a boardwalk that went out a few miles to an overlook and a lake, but we quickly decided, due to the large amount of people and the accessibility of the nearby mountains, to hike a nearby peak.  Oberlin Peak had a supposed mountaineer's route up to the top involving a little bit of scrambling, but really it was just a steep trail, easy to follow.  A half mile or so in, we saw a mountain goat a hundred feet ahead and coming down the trail towards us.  We froze, hoping not to scare it off, but soon realized that it didn't care at all that we were there.  It continued to amble down the path, and we moved a few feet off the trail to let it pass.  We then followed it and enjoyed watching it for a few minutes.  It did not care that we, nor other people, were near.  At one point, two hikers almost walked into it and stumbled back in surprise.  The goat continued munching on grass apathetically.

Of the two trails up to the top, we chose the steeper one up.  Some fat marmots greeted us along the way, similarly apathetic to our presence as the goat.  We soon reached the top and looked out over a 360 degree panorama of Glacier National Park: thousand-foot vertical rock faces, striated horizontally with snow, glaciers near and far, the goats and marmots, far below, and our road, descending to the valley over a vertical mile under our feet.

We ate lunch up there then decided to head down when clouds started rolling over the pass.  It was forecasted to snow in a few hours, so we figured we should get down from our 8000 foot perch.  We kept our eyes open for goats on the way down, and right at the bottom was a female goat and a juvenile.  They were as uncaring as the other goat we saw, so we stayed for a few minutes.  It was a pleasure to share an alpine meadow with two wild mountain goats.

The descent down was incredible!  It warmed up noticeably as we went, and the views were no less gorgeous than the other side.  I found myself wanting to pass cars; they were driving slowly and cautiously on the narrow road, and I, on a bike, had the ability to go faster.  Don't worry, I didn't pass any cars and kept a safe following distance.

6% Grade, Next 11 Miles

We stopped at an informational sign at "The Loop," the one switchback in the road.  The sign explained that there were two possible routes over Logan Pass: a series of fifteen steep switchbacks straight up, a challenge of engineering that would demonstrate "man's mastery over nature," and a gradual climb with one switchback that would give sweeping vistas and blend in more with the rock.  Fortunately the later plan was chosen.

At the bottom, an exhilarating ten miles down the road, we began to follow Logan Creek.  The crystal clear water flowing over blood red rocks was a sight to see, and the tailwind made pedaling easy.  We arrived soon at Avalanche Campground, our planned stop for the night.  The campground was technically closed, but a ranger had told us we could primitive camp there for free (no facilities).  We left our things at the site and set off for Avalanche Lake, a popular and highly recommended hike.  The trail was two miles long and followed Avalanche Creek.

 Under the clear water and along the walls were sculpted red rocks, burnished smooth by eons of rushing water, and along the trail were giant boulders.  Though we hadn't climbed in a long time, all three of us enjoyed playing around on the boulders.  The lake was somewhat unimpressive, as we've seen literally hundreds of alpine lakes, but the waterfalls were nice.  The best part was the quiet: at this late hour (7 pm or so), no one but us crowded this popular destination.

Back at the campground, night was falling, the temperature was dropping, and the wind was roaring. Huge cedars and hemlocks were being whipped around like toys, and every few moments a large branch would fall nearby.  We considered moving or looking for a pavilion but figured that even a roof would not stop one of these giants from falling on us, should it decide to.  We heard a large tree fall nearby, the branches crackling as it fell then a deep, earth-shaking boom like thunder as it hit the ground.  Fortunately none fell near us.  

Cameron said this was the best day of his trip, and I don't want to rank ours, but it certainly was incredible!

-Danny

September 9
We woke up at our campground relieved that the wind had died down from the craziness the night before.  It was still a tailwind, though, and we were happy to bike a beautiful few miles along the shores of Lake McDonald.  We arrived soon at Lake McDonald Lodge, a historic stone building with a roaring fire in the fireplace. 

On this cold day, we enjoyed the warmth for a few minutes before heading across the street to Jammer Joe's pizza, pasta, and salad buffet.  As always hungry cyclists, we seek to eat at all-you-can-eat buffets as often as possible.  Cameron had not yet had one on his trip (this would be our fifth), so he was as excited as we were.  And the food did not disappoint!  We stayed for an hour and a half, polishing off as much pizza, pasta, and salad as we could fit.

With bellies full, we biked out of Glacier National Park and onto some larger roads.  The town of Columbia Falls was a bit tough biking, as there was no shoulder and a lot of traffic, but we made it through.  We made it through the Hungry Horse Valley as well, passing lots of advertisements for huckleberry pie, huckleberry fudge, huckleberry ice cream, everything.  Tam tried some huckleberry fudge but didn't like it.
Our ride to Kalispell was fast because of a strong tailwind (thank you, wind gods!), and we soon arrived at Fred's place.  We had met Fred about 2,000 miles before, in the Yukon, and he invited us to his place when we got to Kalispell.  He and his wife, Martha, greeted us warmly and welcomed us right in.  They were heading out to dinner, but they showed us around and left us to take showers and have some spaghetti.  What a great change from the cold winds!  When they returned, we shared some stories and talked until late in the night.   - Danny

The Plains, September 5-6

September 5

Where is Crowsnest Pass?

The fates have changed! When we get up it's sunny and we have a tailwind. Has this ever happened before? 

As we sit and eat breakfast, a man in the rest area comes over to ask if we eat bananas. He claims he bought too many and needs help eating them, so he gives us two. How wonderful! 

We've mentally prepared ourselves for a long climb up Crowsnest Pass, so we're quite surprised when a couple of minutes into our ride we see a sign marking the pass summit. What? We've barely climbed up at all! This beats Yellowhead Pass as the easiest pass ever. We start to descend and then it flattens out and we see another two signs marking "Crowsnest Pass" Have we not started the pass yet? We stop at the next turnout, adjacent to a gorgeous blue lake, where we see another sign labeled "Crowsnest Pass." Rather confused, I ask a friendly guy selling hotdogs where the pass is. He explains that there's no big mountain or anything. Crowsnest Pass is one of the lowest in the Rockies- a big open area between mountains. Happy to discover this, we bike onwards, enjoying the tailwind. 

The small communities here are very proud of their heritage. We pass several museums and historical sights. Most of this history appears to be linked to the mines in the area, many of which are still operational. One particularity interesting area we pass is the Frank Slide. This was a gigantic landslide that wiped out a local mine and town at 4 AM, killing many people in the process. Although this awful event occurred in 1903, the destruction is still evident. On both sides of the road are giant boulders and scree, and looking up at the mountain it is easy to see where a chunk (over a km long) broke off and slid down. We also pass the Burmis Tree. This tree is a limber pine that marks the eastern edge of Crowsnest Pass. It lived over 700 years before its death in 1970. Eventually it toppled over, but since local residents revere it as such an important landmark, it has since been propped up and supported in various ways. Today, that twisted tree still stands by the roadside. 

The towns we pass are pretty cute.  I see a nice little park by the river and a community campground.  On either side of the pass are stony, featured mountains blanketed in fresh snow.  

Quite a background for our ride.  As we lose sight of the mountains, we enter into the plains.  Danny comments that it's as if we've gone back to the tundra.  On either side are wide-open grasslands and farms.  The occasional river gives some texture to the landscape.  And sky, so much blue sky!

 As is often true in big, flat places, the wind is crazy.  Luckily for us it's mostly a tailwind.  There are times we also battle a crosswind.  The local communities have taken advantage of this: enormous windmills dot the hillsides.  There are hundreds in this area!  

We arrive in Pincher Creek earlier than anticipated and spend some time on the internet.  Outside the grocery store, we meet Edwin, a Pincher Creek local, fellow bicycle tourist, and ranger in Waterton Lakes National Park.  He tells us about the local campground and an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in town.  We spend a little time wandering Main Street, then set up our stuff at the campground and let everything dry out in the hot winds.  

Around 7 pm, my cousin Coltin and his friend AJ arrive from Calgary.  They've come to visit and go out to dinner with us.  It is great to see my cousin. At the Chinese buffet, we eat epic amounts of wonderful food over interesting conversation.  We hear about the oil company that AJ and Coltin are working for, and share stories from our trip. Thanks guys for driving down to visit! 

I also chat for a while with the owner of the restaurant.  Originally from southern China, she says she has little opportunity to speak Chinese here.  It's fun for me to practice with her.  As we finish eating, in walks Edwin with his brother Dan. They've come to invite us to breakfast at Edwin's place tomorrow! What a fantastic evening. 

- Tam

September 6

We slept well but were rudely awakened around 7:15 by the campground host demanding that we pay immediately, something we had forgotten to do but fully intended to do this morning.  I talked with his wife a little while later, as he could not have been more grouchy and unfriendly, and apparently she had talked him out of calling the police to seize our bikes!  Yes, we had neglected to pay the $20, but how ridiculous!  Reminding or asking us nicely would have accomplished the same goal.  Sometimes people are just grouchy.  

This was only a few minutes before our alarm went off anyway, so we got up and headed over to Edwin's place.  His wife Alice welcomed us in, and we sat down to a scrumptious breakfast of eggs, rice, homemade flax bread, homemade salsa, cheese, and tomatoes.  The food was incredible, and it was really nice as well to share conversation around a table with Edwin and Alice, Caroline (Alice's sister) and her husband Dan, and Edwin's old friend Dave. (Forgive me if I did not get all these relationships spot on.)  A big family style breakfast!  

Edwin, Alice, Dan, Dave, and Caroline

Dave and Edwin, the park rangers of the group, gave us some tips on where to go in Waterton Lakes, and Caroline and Dan, who live in Mazatlan, Mexico, for half of every year, shared with us some local knowledge of the area we will pass through in a few months.  Edwin and Alice have bike toured in the Baja, so he also shared some of their favorite spots around there.  All this talking about Mexico got us very excited for the next segment of our trip, and we so much appreciated their sharing!  Not to mention the hospitality!  Though we have nothing to give now except stories of adventure from down the road, we will carry with us their friendliness and generosity and pass it on.

After exchanging contact information and saying our goodbyes, we did some laundry.  Now we are at a coffee shop and will be biking today to Waterton Lakes National Park, then into the US and to Glacier!

- Danny

Geology With Tamara

You might have read about the giant limestone canyons we saw and wondered how they formed. I certainly wanted to know why the earth decided to just open up and swallow these rivers. Luckily some helpful signs in Kootenay National Park solved the mystery.

What happened here?

1. When tectonic forces compress rock they cause it to bend. Sometimes if the rock bends too much it will crack. This happened to many beds of local limestone rock.

2. The landscape in the areas we've been biking through was formed, and continues to be formed, by the movement of glaciers. When these glaciers begin to melt the water needs to go somewhere. Deep cracks in the limestone rock are a natural place for the water to flow- downhill.

3. The glacial water is full of 'rock flour,' bits of sand and rock that the glacier has eroded from the surrounding landscape. This rock flour works like sandpaper, rounding and smoothing the sides of the canyon walls.

The result is a deep canyon with both jagged and rounded features. The jagged 'ripped' features are the result of ancient plate tectonics; the smooth features a result of past and current glacial water flow.

Marble canyon- Kootenay National Park

Geology in action!

Please note- this is a basic explanation of how these canyons formed. For more detailed information please consult additional sources.

Biggest Truck in the World

We woke to a dewy morning at Horseshoe Lake and got on the road early.  A few miles in, we saw a medium-size black dog by the side of the road.  For whatever reason, dogs love to run after and bark at cyclists.  It sounds cute, ears flopping all around, but really it's quite scary to have a large carnivore running after you.  We soon figured out that this one wasn't really threatening and just wanted to play, but that's a problem when it keeps running in front of you and nipping at your pedaling heels.  We could not get it to go away!  We didn't want to mace a young, playful dog with bear spray, and my attempts to kick it only made it think I wanted to play more.  Finally I thought to tire it out and ramped up my speed over 20 mph for a few miles.  Sure enough, it bounded after me, but I eventually got the best of it.  Unfortunately, it had recovered enough to chase Tam when she came down the road.  We both pedaled hard for a few miles and finally left it behind.  Before we head into Mexico, I am going to grab my "dog arrow" from California.  It's an old arrow shaft with enough flex and whip in it to deliver a substantial blow to a possibly harmful animal.  It would have been nice to have today.

A random, fun sign we passed

We rode about 20 miles and arrived at the town of Jaffray, a town our road should not have taken us through, according to the map.  The map is wrong, and some locals helped direct us.  We rode from there through rolling hills and clearing skies (sun!), and about 50 miles in, came to the town of Fernie.  

We picked up some black bean and corn salsa, fruit, and jam at a little farm stand, then went to Tim Horton's (Canadian equivalent to Dunkin Donuts) for their Wi-Fi and to charge batteries while eating lunch.  We polished off a whole loaf of bread with olive oil, as well as a couple of cheese/salsa sandwiches.  

On the road again around 4 pm, we rode through a valley surrounded by craggy mountains adorned with snow.  They had been there all along; who knew?

20 sunny miles brought us to the mining town of Sparwood, where we marveled at their claim to fame: the biggest truck in the world!  It sure was big; I was only about half as tall as one of the tires.

Some history (addition by Tamara): The truck was created during the 1970s coal mining boom when they realized that digging in little tunnels was inefficient and started digging gigantic holes instead. Because so much extra material was being extracted out of the ground and needed to be moved out of the way, there was a need for big trucks. Thus behemoth truck was created. Unfortunately because there are no other trucks quite as big, when a part broke it was quite difficult to replace; everything had to be custom made. As a result, maintenance became too much of a hassle and the truck became a tourist attraction instead of a mining tool. 

A guy told us about a lake just up the road where we could camp for free, so we hopped back on our bikes, hoping for enough daylight to make it.  We didn't make it to the lake, but we did make it to a rest area right on the BC/Alberta border.  He had said it was mostly flat, but it was actually 1-2% uphill most of the way, so we were slower than we thought.  We must have climbed up a ways, because it is cold!  Might drop below freezing tonight.

Heading South, September 2-3

September 2nd 

The day dawns gray and rainy and remains that way throughout.  It takes us a little while to get out of camp, but when we do we're immediately warmed up by the large hill we must climb to get out of town. At a viewpoint we are rewarded with a beautiful view of the marshy valley below (there's good birding here!) and we have a chance to learn about the local big horn sheep herd from an informational sign.

Apparently there used to be a lot more open ground in this area, so the bighorn sheep, looking for grassland, end up on golf course and front lawns! Unfortunately, as a result 10% of the herd is killed on the highway each year. We don't see any sheep, but we do see some deer and lots of osprey as we bike. 

The first half of our day is filled with civilization. The British Columbia road signs inform us that we are now traveling through "Hot springs, mountains and vineyards" and so we are. This is clearly a prime vacation area-we're happy we arrived just after Labor Day. The roadside is littered with billboards, condos, and golf courses. Mostly our road is flat, but we hit another big hill right by Columbia Lake. It's a large, gorgeous blue lake that feeds the Columbia river. This river eventually empties into the Pacific in Astoria, Oregon. 

After the lake we reach Canal Flats, so named because a guy tried to channel Columbia lake into a canal so that he could access the rich farmland underneath. It seems to me that it's all for the best that this didn't work out. The lake is beautiful as is, and there seems to be plenty of farmland. As far as we can tell farming and logging are the major industries in the area. Most of the small town is off the road but we find a convenient roadside gazebo to have lunch in just as it really starts to pour. 

Lunch takes a while because neither of us are anxious to begin biking in the freezing rain, and my front brakes are causing problems again. Despite these setbacks, the afternoon ride turns out to be an enjoyable one. The road is flat, newly paved with a huge shoulder, and we have a bit of a tailwind. We cruise at 17-18mph. We've left the vacation homes behind and instead ride by rivers and quiet farms. When we see a nice rest area by the river we decide to stop a bit early so we can have time to do some bike maintenance and relax. Hoping for better weather tomorrow. 

-Tam

September 3

No better weather today.  It rained hard all night and all morning, and apparently they need it here because it hadn't rained in six weeks.  Finally we got up and rode a few miles, but we soon stopped at a gas station/store in the little town of Wasa (pop. 200).  The owners were overwhelmingly friendly and let us hang out for a few hours, as well as array our wet stuff in the back to dry.  We entertained ourselves by eating a lot of popcorn (mostly me), writing (Tam), reading the paper (me), and talking with two curious kids who were visiting their grandparents in Wasa (both of us).

We hit the road again a few hours later.  Although it was still raining, it was lighter and we rode without issue.  A few miles down the road, the rain stopped and we took a break at a family farm advertising "Awesome Pies."  How could we not stop?  

The blueberry-peach pie that we devoured on site certainly was awesome.  Flavorful, fresh, sweet, a little tart, all the things you want your pies to be.  

We also got to practice our Spanish with a guy working there, and we saw a llama whose shaggy coat made it look like it was wearing a large dress.

Then down the road again.  At Fort Steele we turned onto a small, quiet road.  Country roads tend to be hillier, but we enjoyed the lack of traffic, especially trucks.  The clouds started to lift off of the mountains, and it became apparent that a large volume of snow had been dumped at elevations not much higher than ours.  We are a little bit apprehensive to be going back into the mountains next week because of all the snow they've been getting.

We stopped for the night at Horseshoe Lake, which had been recommended by someone in Wasa.  It is beautiful, situated right under the newly snowy mountains, and it's free.  We enjoyed our evening.  We called some friends we hadn't spoken with in awhile, Tam did a painting, and I took a walk around the lake and saw a pipit and a spotted sandpiper.  Only 23 miles today, but who really cares?  We'll put in a full day of riding tomorrow.  The forecast says the weather should be better.

-Danny

Hot Springs, September 1

September 1

When we wake up it's freezing outside.  I haven't worn this many layers since Deadhorse!  We bike still wearing our fleeces and gloves.  All morning the road follows the river valley, rolling green mountains on either side.  I get the feeling that larger peaks loom behind these mountains, but they're hidden in clouds.  There's the occasional turnout or hiking trail, but otherwise not much along the road.  We stop for lunch at a ranger base, where we're able to charge things in the outlets and attempt some pullups on a bar outside of one of the buildings.  I am only able to manage 6 and a half in sets of one.  That's what biking does to your arm muscles.  

After lunch we continue down the road.  For awhile it's flat, and we have a spectacular view of some craggy peaks on the left.  Then we begin to climb Sinclair Pass.  The headwind we've had all day makes a much more noticeable difference when you're going steeply uphill.  After a long, exhausting climb, we reach a viewpoint.  Here we meet a friendly ranger who has a display set up.  She tells us about the fence and innovative crossing structures on highway 1 and part of this highway, designed to keep animals off the highway without limiting their natural movement.  Apparently the system on highway 1 has limited animal fatalities by 80%!  We learn about all the research they're doing on which areas benefit most from fences and what types of crossing structures are best for the animals.  It's all very interesting to learn about, and it would be great if more highways implemented this system.

After the look-out, we turn more into the mountains and have one more tough 7% section before we reach the top.  The summit is marked by Olive Lake, a small, picturesque lake tucked among the trees next to the road.  From here the rest of our day is downhill!  It seems the other side is even steeper and longer than what we came up.  

We still have a headwind, but it's not freezing, the road isn't rutted, and it's not raining, so no complaints.  It's not long before we reach Radium Hot Springs.  It's rather odd to see a large pool/spa complex staffed by National Park employees, but we can't pass up a giant hot tub, so we pay the $6.50 to go in.  Inside we lounge in an enormous pool heated by natural hot springs to 102 degrees.  

photo credit: radiumhotsprings.ca

Emerging after an hour or so, I feel a little dehydrated but overall really relaxed and happy.  I wish every mountain pass had one of these after it.  We get back on our bikes and cruise the easiest 2 km ever (11% downhill).  We grab some groceries and find a lovely spot to camp in a local park.

Into Kootenay, August 31

August 31

We rolled out of our swanky campground and headed to the village of Lake Louise to run some errands.  In the span of a few hours, we finished updating the blog, including a new article I wrote about why we don't carry a stove, we wrote and sent some postcards, sent Tam's pack in to Osprey for repairs/replacement, bought a few things from the sports store, procured the elusive park pass that had made it to the chateau a few hours after we were there, and, since we now had the annual pass, got a refund on the park entrance fee I had paid in Jasper.  Phew!  Then we ate a giant brownie!

A choice lay ahead: take the 1 highway or the smaller 1A?  They went to the same place, the 1 being the big freeway with a fast speed limit and a huge shoulder, and the 1A being smaller, with fewer cars (but still a lot on this Labor Day weekend) but no shoulder.  We decided on the 1 since it was only for a few miles, and it turned out to be a good choice: few trucks and a great shoulder.  So good was the shoulder, in fact, that we were worried cars would mistake it for another lane!  We knocked out the 20 miles quickly and turned towards British Columbia and Kootenay National Park.  A giant hill greeted us; we had gone 20 miles in the previous hour or so, and in the next hour we did 4.  At the top we crossed the Continental Divide and layered up.  It was cold and getting colder.  Freezing rain and wind blasted us as we descended the pass, and we took refuge under the eave of a trailhead outhouse to wait out the squall.  The sun came out just minutes later, then freezing rain and wind for a few minutes, then sun again.  We stopped at a campground during a particularly long burst, finding a fire already lit at the pavilion when we arrived!  Lucas and Julie from Calgary were hanging out with their 9-month old baby, and they were a lot of fun to talk with.  Predictably, the sun came out again just 30 or so minutes later.  Though we had ridden only 30 miles, we decided to stay in the campground since it was the trailhead for a short hike we wanted to do.

After pitching the tent and spreading our gear to dry, we crossed the street to hike the 5 miles or so to Marble Canyon and Paint Pots.  The canyon is a deep limestone gorge with a tremendous waterfall, and we marveled at the sight.  

Paint Pots is  an area with rich iron oxide springs that seep out of the ground, dyeing the soil brilliant hues of red and orange.  It was spectacular as well, like the surrounding mountains, and we got back to the pavilion just before dark.  

A comical sign on the hike

Rice for dinner with soybeans and chick peas and balsamic vinegar.  Lucas and Julie had some extra hot water, and it was very nice to have hot food after the cold rain.

Lake Louise, August 30

Our morning consisted of a long climb up to Bow Summit, the highest point on the highway at 7000 feet.  When we got there, the air was chilly and misty, and a light rain/hail was falling.  Snow had dusted the nearby peaks the previous night, and some, just hundreds of feet above us, were still shrouded and probably getting more snow.  From the summit, we took a few minutes to observe Peyto Lake, touted as the bluest in the Rockies.  It was certainly nothing if not blue.  Perhaps green.  

Then we donned our layers and set off down the hill.  From here on, there was more traffic and so many people at each rest stop that we no longer stopped; we could see the views better from our bikes.  One time we did stop was at the Crowfoot Glacier.  The lower "toe" has now melted, but it's still easy to see the "foot."

The sun was starting to peek through the clouds as we ate lunch a few minutes later.  Then, as we began to ride again, a gray wall of rain descended behind us and engulfed the road, the mountains, everything. We could see the clouds above slowly overtaking us, too, and we rode quickly to stay in front of the rain.  Fortunately the wind that was blowing the storm towards us was also pushing us, but I knew after the last of the blue sky ahead was swallowed up that we were doomed.  

The rain overtook us and pelted us for a few minutes, then it suddenly stopped.  We were thankful yet disappointed that we were still missing many of the great views due to the clouds.

We reached the end of the Icefields Parkway and merged onto the Trans-Canada Highway, a big, fast road that fortunately also has an immense shoulder.  We rode on that for a few minutes then exited at the village of Lake Louise.  Our formerly quiet mountain ride had been replaced by trucks and milling tourists, and the change was a bit overwhelming at first.  But we sought out the info center then headed over to the campsite.  It was $27.60 for a site!  Showers were included, but still, we thought it exorbitant.  Since we don't have a vehicle we were able to list our site as "shared," and two other vehicle-less people came in a few hours later and split the price with us.  Part of the reason for the expense is that the campsite is surrounded by an electric bear-guard fence!  I can understand why with the number of people who camp here and probably don't know a thing about bears, but it still seems ridiculous.

We went back to town, got some groceries, sent some emails, and uploaded a few days of posts to the blog.  Then we returned to the campsite, where some nice people, Harley and Sue, had offered to drive us the steep 5k up the Lake Louise rather than our biking it in the rain.  We had to pick up our park pass at the Chateau, where Tam's parents had mailed it, but unfortunately it wasn't there.  We did get a nice view of the lake, and I can understand why it's so popular.  It's not as stunningly green as Peyto Lake, and it's not all that big, yet the mountains behind it, glaciers cascading down, provide a spectacular alpine backdrop.  Many thanks to Harley for taking the time to drive us up there.  

Unfortunately it's raining again now, but our tent is as waterproof as ever, and if it's still going tomorrow, our $27.60 got us access to a pavilion, so really life's still pretty good.  

The Icefields Parkway, August 26-29

August 26

Checkout time for the hotel is 11:00. We leave at 10:58.  We've taken full advantage of this comfy place.  After running a couple of last-minute errands, we roll out of town feeling rested and excited to be biking.  Our road has a wide, paved shoulder that continues all day.  Just 9 km in, we stop for our first hike: Valley of the Five Lakes.  I look at the map and pick the longest loop possible, failing to look at the map's scale.  So our two mile hike turns into a five mile one.  But it's beautiful and I enjoy it.  First we hike through open spruce, pine, and aspen forest.  It's carpeted with thick, green, springy moss that makes you just want to lie down on it.  Then it's up and over some hills and we see the first of the lakes.  It's big, deep turquoise in the middle, and aqua-blue on the edges with a border of pristine, tan-colored sand. It looks like a giant gem sparkling in the sun.  The next three lakes are smaller and not as deep but also have a beautiful aqua hue.  Hiking by, we find two red chairs, adirondack style.  On the connected armrest is a plaque explaining that if you take a moment to be quiet, you'll be able to better experience the wildlife.  Apparently other quiet red chairs can be found throughout the park.  What a wonderful idea!  As we sit quietly, I hear a bird singing far off, and mostly the wind blowing through the trees, making them dance and creak.  The final lake is similar to the first and has two old rowboats moored at the shore.  Unfortunately they are both locked.  

After our hike, we hop back on our bikes and head down the road.  The wind that has been making the trees quake is a headwind for us, and since we're slowly gaining elevation, progress is very slow.  We stop for lunch at a lookout over Athabasca Pass, an important route for early fur traders.  We ride 17 more miles after eating, which drain us physically more than we expect.  Luckily the scenery is spectacular.  We've been following the Athabasca River, class I and II rapids, milky-blue in color.  All around are beautiful peaks, and as the sun gets lower, the rocky features are illuminated by the evening light.  

On the left are rocky ridges that remind me of castles.  On the right are even larger peaks with sheer cliffs, some still with patches of snow.  We camp at the Honeymoon Lake campground.

- Tam

Beauty Creek and Wilcox Pass, August 27

We began our day with an experiment: cold oatmeal.  Instant oatmeal hydrates quickly, and we have had it cold before, but it's just not that appealing.  The experiment was to try it with honey and lemon juice, an unbeatable combination, or so we have heard.  It was actually pretty good!  Not great, but edible.

Once on the road, it was tough going with a headwind.  But the scenery was spectacular: mountains and glaciers and waterfalls all around.  We reached our first destination, the unmarked and somewhat unpopular trailhead at Beauty Creek.  Only one car was parked there, a contrast to the teeming hordes we encountered yesterday at the Valley of the Five Lakes.  But this hike was recommended to us, and it was only a few miles, so we changed into hiking clothes and set off.  The trail brought us along the old road connecting Jasper and Banff, which was being quickly reclaimed by plants, and a few minutes later to Beauty Creek.  We ascended a short slope to find a deep slot canyon, dark and murky in its depths.  A waterfall churned the water into white and filled the air with a booming roar.  

We followed the trail upstream to get a better view of the falls only to find another cataract, bigger than the one before.  

Then we went to get a look at that one and discovered another waterfall!  And so on for awhile.  Each torrent was different than the last: some were wispy braids, tall and thin, while others spread a veil over the rocks.  Some crashed rock to rock, never free-falling more than a few inches, while others tumbled over the edge and, seconds later, joined the bright blue pools below.  Finally we reached the uppermost waterfall and turned back.  

All of this was no more than an easy 20-minute walk from the highway; why were all of these people zooming past?

After a quick lunch, we took to the bikes again with Sunwapta Pass in our sights.  This would be the most sustained steep climbing of this hilly road.  The roaring headwind didn't help, but once we got going, it wasn't so bad.  We spotted numerous waterfalls from the road: one, high up on the cliffs, disappeared periodically as the wind blew it around.  Again, no one driving by seemed to notice.  An hour or so and a couple of breaks got us to the top of the steep section (the actual pass was a few miles later and hardly a bump in the road).  Glaciated peaks were even closer than before, and waterfalls cascaded from countless alpine ridges.  

There is a fancy new walkway at the top of this steep section, and the people waiting there to go back to the parking area gave Tam an ovation as she crested the hill!  People can be great.

We then entered a valley and got our first views of the Columbia Icefield, one of the largest sub-arctic glacial masses.  The Athabasca and Andromeda Peaks, both heavily flanked with glaciers, dominated the scene.  The Athabasca glacier has an ice road on it: you can actually take a glacier tour out onto the ice!  There is also a trail that leads right up to its toe.  We biked by all of that and got to the Icefield Campground, the only one on the road that does not allow RVs.  We claimed a site in the walk-in area.  It will be nice tonight and in the morning to be away from vehicles and all their noise.  While registering for the site, I started talking with a guy who turned out to have worked with a friend of mine from college!  It is a small world indeed.

Tam and I quickly set up the tent then started to hike up to Wilcox Pass.  The unofficial trailhead began right behind our campsite!  The steep trail took us quickly up past treeline and onto expansive meadows neighboring the peaks and glaciers of the area.  A flock of about 20 Bighorn Sheep roamed nearby, and on the walk back, I glanced behind and saw one on a rock overlooking the trail, no more than 50 feet away.  As night fell, we headed back to our tent and had dinner, just entering the tent as rain began to fall.  What a day!

- Danny

August 28

It's pouring rain in the morning, so we sleep in, only emerging for breakfast.  It's early afternoon when the sun finally comes up and we decide to start biking.  Soon we reach Sunwapta Pass.  Here waters flow south to the Pacific and north to the Arctic.  It's also the boundary between Jasper and Banff.  We head into Banff!  

At the end of a nice descent, we reach Parker Ridge, the hike we want to do today.  Steep switchbacks lead to the top of the ridge, where we are rewarded with a fantastic view of the valley behind us.  Climbing up to a high point on the right, we can see the Saskatchewan Glacier, jagged peaks behind it, our road winding through the valley, and layer upon layer of sweeping mountains stretching into the distance.  

In every direction the view is breathtaking.  

We then hike along the ridge away from the glacier to get a better view.  From here we can observe the glacier, slowly pouring down from the grey cliffs, the milky blue lake below, and the braided river carving through the valley.  The surrounding cliffs are all topped with ice, and from one, two tremendous waterfalls thunder down, side by side, for thousands of feet.  We stop here and I do a painting, while Danny goes to explore and take pictures.  It's 6:30 or so by the time we're on our bikes again, and it's 7:45 when we reach our campsite about 19 miles away.  That tells you how much elevation we lost!  Leaving Parker Ridge, we take off on a steep, fast, super long downhill.  Suddenly everything is happening fast, and thoughts only have enough time to flash through my brain: valley ahead, car back, Danny rounding the next curve, avalanche sign, bumpy road, hands freezing, good- not too cold to use the brakes, jagged ridges, sun on snow, waterfall.  All of this beauty is in fast-forward.  It's exhilarating!  

At the bottom the road makes a big U-bend and we lose some speed.  Off to the right is a small path and footbridge, so we stop to take a look.  Here the blue glacial river along the road is literally swallowed by the earth.  We watch the calm river waterfall into a chasm hundreds of feet deep.  On the bridge we can look down into the dark depths and see the river rushing far below.  What an amazing geological feature!

The downhill is not over.  We continue to fly into the valley, stopping only when we reach another bridge, a big one.  To our left we discover an enormous waterfall.  White water is flying out and down hundreds of feet, bounding off protruding rocks, and finally pounding into a grey pool far below. What powerful beauty!  No one driving by stops to look (you can't see the waterfall if you just drive over the bridge).  Just past here we see the Weeping Wall, tall cliffs golden in the setting sun with small waterfalls emerging in various places to paint long wet streaks.  These cliffs continue, and Danny falls in love with them because they remind him of Yosemite.  

As we follow the river valley, the sun makes a smoky disappearance behind us among the clouds.  

The scenery is quite remarkable, but I'm happy to arrive at the campsite because it's cold and I'm very hungry.  Eating dinner at the pavilion, we meet a family traveling from New Zealand and two girls traveling from France, which makes for lovely conversation.

- Tam

August 29

We ate breakfast at the same pavilion as last night, but this time everyone else had gone.  The New Zealanders left their fire burning at their campsite, didn't even attempt to put it out, so we doused it.  It did rain last night, but the "fire danger extreme" doesn't go away from an inch of rain.  We continued our cold oatmeal experiment, this time adding copious amounts of honey, lemon juice, peanut butter, and chia seeds.  Nutritious and (somewhat) delicious!  We got on the road about 10, hoping the sun would come out.  It did for a little bit, but mostly it was cold and windy.  The scenery, as always on this road, was incredible.  Sheer cliffs on our left, streaked with waterfalls thousands of feet above, with the uppermost ridge a massive castle: crenellated battlements, ramparts and buttresses below, turrets and spires thrust every which way into the sky.  Our road followed the moat, aka the North Saskatchewan River, all the way until we crossed it and began to climb up out of the valley.  Our first stop was at an overlook of the mountains.  I counted 14 glaciers, but the view looked pretty much like it does all the time when the road climbs up a few hundred feet.  You know your life is pretty good when every day includes soaring peaks and so many glaciers it takes minutes to count them.

We stopped down the road a few minutes later at Mistaya Canyon, a short hike to a bridge across a deep gorge.  The river just upstream is winding along, a few rocks and rapids here and there, and suddenly the earth yawns and swallows it whole.  The whole churning mess drops deep down into a limestone canyon reminiscent of the one we found the night before.  We enjoyed the view for a few minutes but hurried back after a nice guy informed us that the pesky ravens in the parking lot were messing with our stuff.  Turns out everything was fine.  As we were getting ready to leave the parking area, a woman rolled down her window and asked how far the hike was.  We told her it was very short, no more than half a kilometer, and totally worth it for the view into the canyon.  She lamented that some of the hikes were just so long and she didn't have enough time!  I told her she could save a few more seconds by parking nearer to the trailhead.  She laughed, and I with her.  Or maybe at her.  I mean, who doesn't have an extra fifteen minutes to see an incredible natural phenomenon?  Why else would you be in Banff National Park?  I guess half a kilometer was too long, because she waited a minute then drove off.  

We biked on slowly uphill and into the wind, and eventually came to a spectacular aquamarine lake on our right.  This was Waterfowl Lake, the trailhead for our next hike.  

We asked a guy traveling by motorcycle to take our picture, and he kindly obliged then asked us a few questions about our trip.  He told us that later in life we would buy something motorized and look back and laugh at how crazy we were to ever ride bikes!  Had someone nearby not disturbed a hornet's nest and forced an end to the conversation, I might have told him of all the amazing places he had zoomed by since leaving Jasper that morning (we left Jasper three days ago and still feel we are going too fast).  But I wouldn't want to ruin his day.

We did talk to some nice people at the trailhead.  They had driven the road before and done many of the hikes.  We enjoyed hearing about the one we were about to do, and they said they would check out some of the spots we recommended.  We then hiked a few miles to Chephren Lake, discussing the morals of vegetarianism while strolling through the dense forest.  It was lightly raining when we arrived, but nothing, maybe save very thick fog, could dampen the splendor of this pastel blue lake set into the cirque below jagged, gray, Chephren Peak.  We ate lunch to the sound of the waterfalls roaring down from the glacier on the mountainside, a refreshing change from the constant sound of cars.  Then we hiked back, found a campsite, ate some dinner, and dove quickly into the tent under wet skies.

-Danny