Monday August 4, 2014 – Day three of our trip dawned warm but partially overcast. We broke camp, packed up all the gear, and headed down the hill for breakfast at the Pocahantas cabins. Turns out that none of us are particularly great morning people, at least not until there is some coffee running in the veins. Sadly, I can’t drink much if I know I’ll be riding, my bladder seems to shrink to the size of a walnut when on the bike :-/
Our trusted leader (aka Hans – the guy with the GPS and prior knowledge of the area) took us on a fabulous side road (Highway 93A) and then on the road up to Mount Edith Cavell.
It was a wonderful stretch of asphalt with many phenomenal bends and twists. Not many places to legally pass, but on a motorcycle one can squeak through a lot of places that one wouldn’t try in a car, it’s just easier on the bike. But trying to get three bikes through some of those passes at the same time, well that doesn’t always work. And riding in the back, and being the weakest rider in the bunch, meant I hung back a few times and had to find a place that was more suited to the fact that I am more cautious and less experienced.
As we came around a bend and caught up with three turtles sporting Alberta plates it became one of those spots that took me a bit to get past and catch up. One at a time, on corners that gave me at least a bit of comfort at being able to see far enough to have an escape route if needed. Until the third vehicle.
One would think that a driver might consider that there could be a third bike wanting to pass after two already went by. One might even think he may have noticed me stuck behind him for a bit.
One would be wrong.
Either that or that driver was out to bag himself a rider.
Not once, but twice, he almost ran me off the road as I tried to pass. Both times on a corner, both times as I was off his rear quarter he just drifted half or more into the oncoming lane, and I was forced to take defensive action or be hit. When I finally got past him I was left shaken and seriously angry. I’d have happily clocked him when he finally showed up at the parking lot…if only Kirk and Hans had let me….
In the end a short wander up the hill, a drink of cold glacial water, and a visit by a chipmunk cooled me off.
On the way back down we stopped for a few photo ops and drank in the beauty of the mountains and forests around us.
Back on Highway 93A on the way out had some good twists, but it wasn’t nearly as nice pavement as the previous stretch. It had some heaves and ruts that were dodge worthy (for me anyway), and I was happy to be back on some smoother road after that. Well, for a few minutes anyway. I ended up leading when we got back on the Icefields Parkway and it didn’t take long for self-ejecting-luggage-part-two to start rolling. This time wasn’t quite as spectacular from my perspective, it didn’t hang on and try to take out the back end of the bike this time, it just vacated quickly.
Apparently it was quite the view from behind though. Both Kirk and Hans likened it to someone having just pushed an eject button. They said it just flew straight off up and to the side. I felt it go, but it really was quick this time. It hit the road, spun and rolled, and ended up on the side of the road.
After some suitably angry words on my part, I was just glad, again, that the stupid bag hadn’t caused an accident. On the upside, being in front means that you have two guys to bring your luggage to you 😉 When we looked the luggage over it was still in a fully locked position. While I was buffaloed and losing confidence in my ability to keep my luggage intact should it hit the ground again, Hans whipped out a couple of bungee cords and the luggage was secured to the rails. Again, I was glad that I didn’t have my laptop along, and wondering if that was the bag I had put the jar of salsa in… guess I’d find out later in Banff when we stopped for the night.
Back on the road, and with a bit more confidence in the bags sticking around, we stopped in at Athabasca Falls and drank in the cool mists off the falls before moving on.
Next up was the Columbia Icefield. I can vaguely recall being here as a child, and of course Mom and I travelled through here a few years before she died so unexpectedly. But I seem to recall that glacier being a whole lot closer to the highway when I was a little kid. I also remember being on one of those cool snowcats that drove all over the glacier. Probably didn’t do it any good, and that’s likely why the transport for tourists is now a big wheeled bus-like thing that sticks to a road across the icefield. The old cats were way cooler!
It’s funny how a common wildflower can be a part of your periphery growing up, to the point that you never really see it. And then one day you see it again, and you appreciate it so much more. Fireweed was everywhere and when I looked down from the road above there were swaths of it near the glacial runoff below. It made me think of fields of heather on the moors, not that I’ve seen that, but I’ve seen photographs. 
When we were leaving Jasper we couldn’t believe the traffic for gas. Every station in town had a chaotic lineup and we thought it odd. Until we needed fuel on the road and stopped in at the Saskatchewan River Crossing. I couldn’t have made it through without fuel, and wow, did they have you captive there. $1.86/L Ouch! I can’t imagine what the pickups towing huge trailers were seeing on their bill. We took a break in a shady spot and had a snack before heading on. There are some wonderful cabins that lie in the shadow of some impressive chunks of rock…
After our break we headed South again, me in the lead as I wanted to stop in at Peyto Lake, simply the prettiest lake I’ve ever laid eyes on, and which neither Kirk nor Hans had been to. Again, Mom had taken me there and we’d both been annoyed at how many tourists were merely getting their photo taken with it in the background without actually stopping to appreciate its beauty. I guess they figured they’d see their trip after they got home and uploaded their photos?
When I’d been here before, Mom and I had parked in the car lot and hoofed it up to the lake. It’s quite the little hike uphill, and Mom had been pretty winded. When we’d been up there waves of Japanese tourists had appeared bright and fresh, no puffing from a hike, and we saw that there was a tour bus lot up top. Since it was warm, and since we were in full gear, I headed up there instead of hiking up in boots that were made for anything but walking up a hill.
Then it was back down Highway 93 heading for Lake Louise. Crazy busy place on a holiday Monday, but it’s a pretty spot and even the light spitting of rain didn’t detract from the scenery. I even managed a shot of a Clark’s Nuthatch before it disappeared.
Getting out of Lake Louise proved more difficult than getting in and a long line of traffic snaked down the hill into town. Every car having to stop at a four way stop sign at the bottom of the hill. Poor planning on the traffic planning’s part I’d say. We all ended up turning our motors off and just rolled all the way down until we finally reached the stop sign.
With Hans and his GPS back in the lead we left the main highway and rode through a much nicer route along the Bow Valley Parkway, with just the occasional five-minute-idiot stopping because of something four-legged on the side of the road.
There was obviously some rain ahead of us and we were seemingly just missing it. There were many spots we rode through where the road was wet, but we only felt a few spotty sprinkles. When the parkway ended we were thrust onto the Trans Canada and into heavy and fast moving traffic. Somewhat unpleasant after having so much fun road with so little traffic just previously. After what felt like a short race down the freeway we were at Banff and all very hungry for some substantial food and a couple of beer. As we rode into town I spied a Tony Roma’s and dinner was unanimously decided upon!
When we came out it was raining, but it let up on the way to the campground and didn’t rain on us again, at least not while we were awake. We stayed at Tunnel Mountain on the edge of town and it suited us just fine. Too late for a campfire by the time we were set up and settled in, but we still had time and the inclination for a couple of bottles of shared wine and some good conversation before we all called it a day.
My battery is almost dead, so I’ll call that the end of the trip’s recap for tonight.
Oh, and the salsa survived!
12 comments
Great photos and ride report!
Sigh…all of those pictures are making me homesick. 🙁