After a long time on the road in the western U.S., it was exciting to know we'd be hitting Canada this day.
Jasper National Park had been our goal as the northernmost point before turning south for Central and South America, but we decided to cut short some of our explorations in Wyoming and Montana and try to squeeze in as much of Alaska as the weather would allow.
It was chilly when we finally got the gear on the bikes and headed out under the overcast sky. The trip so far has been almost completely in sunshine, a miracle as far as motorcycling goes, but I told Kim we'd probably be in chilly weather and rain from now on.
We wove up road 17 after leaving St. Mary for the small border crossing at Chief Mountain in the very corner of Glacier National Park. The skies were gloomy and finally tossed enough rain drops to make us don rain gear just as we reached the border crossing.
Several cars arrived and formed a line ahead of us before we could get back on the bikes and a small wait ensued - mainly due to paving construction right under the checkpoint.
Kim and I rolled up together to the border guard, a courteous and stern man who told me I needed to sign my passport, rattled off several questions to which I answered "no" except for bear spray and sent us on our way. Joy bubbled up in Kim's voice as we rolled away from the booth and we both started laughing. She was really pumped to be riding in Canada!
The "Welcome to Alberta" sign was blocked by road construction crews but we cut across the fresh hot asphalt and lines to squeeze under it for selfies. To the west it was gloomy and misty but the mountains were beautiful.
As we goofed around, a road worker came over to talk and we discussed weather, Alaska and life in Canada for a bit. He wished us well and we headed off.
We wound north, Waterton National Park to our left along beautiful roads, with threatening black clouds and eventually beautiful lush green rolling pastures to our right. My GPS showed weather warnings and I knew there were major storms up in Banff and Jasper from checking weather online, but it was black ahead. To save time I'd planned to go straight up to Canmore and over to Banff, but the weather warnings were severe so we decided to cross back west for Cranbrook on Hwy 3.
Stopping at Pincher Creek for coffee, wifi, gas and the info center to buy a Canada map we had a chance to meet a few locals, all very friendly and excited to hear about our journey. The time spent was worth it as the skies cleared to our west and we got going for Cranbrook. Hwy 3 was a nice ride with a couple of stops for layering up and down, as well as finding a cell signal to search for campgrounds ahead. When we pulled over at Frankslide, an amazing spot where a massive rockslide had roared down the mountain and left a lunar landscape surrounding the highway, a large black box truck quickly wheeled in next to Kim and two men got out, walking over and talking to her. They were very interested in seeing her on the roadside and wanted to find out the story. On the side of the truck I saw "Hutterian Brotherhood" and realized they were attached to the Hutterite communities, whom I'd seen a documentary about on Nat Geo.
Having made sure she was okay, they went on, as did we for Crowsnest, Sparwood and Fernie, the latter being a beautiful small town with ski area. We eventually made the turn north on 93 for Fort Steele but missed the turn and ended up in Cranbrook instead. At a Wendy's for a dollar burger our gas ran out and we decided to grab a motel across the street for the night.
The next morning was overcast but not raining and we needed to find some chain lube, walking down the street to a small Harley shop to find a can. The weather forecast still showed rain in Banff as we excitedly headed north. At Radium Springs we stopped to top off and were immediately engulfed in conversations with other travelers from Canada, California and other places. As one conversation ended, another person would wander over and talk to us. We spent probably 45 minutes or longer trying to get out of the gas station, but that's also part of the fun of travel. Being from Texas it seemed we were somewhat of an oddity.
The road from Radium was stunning as we moved into the park and as the immense mountains came into view the tops were shrouded in majestic billowing clouds. The sun came and went, as did the heavy showers that we skirted through in bouts of heavy rain for a few minutes. At the Junction of Hwy 1 we turned south for Banff and the heavy tourist crowds. The weather was threatening but we enjoyed Banff for a while as well as the international crowd there.
It was time to look for a camping spot, but we were told the tent campgrounds had been closed due to wolf and bear incidents. A quick search for hotels was futile as everything was booked, and a trip to the library and visitor center gave us differing versions of the wolf and bear stories. Finally, a guy said that the reservation system had failed, and the wolf issue had been taken care of and the Two Jacks campground north of town was open for tenters.
The ranger at the entrance said that indeed there had been issues with a wolf pack but it had "been taken care of" as well as the bear problems. I inquired about bear boxes as we'd been told there weren't any, but he assured us they were there. A bit more comforting when tent camping in grizzly country.
We got set up in the wet campground and I filled my panniers with wet firewood at the wood pile, finally getting a nice fire going after a sudden rain killed my first attempt. Late in the evening we wandered up to the cooking cabin, to see a backpacking French couple camped inside, 4 bottles of wine, some bread and cheese on the tables as she washed his hair in the sink.
It was a wet morning as we packed up, trading ride time for dry time as we waited for the tent fly and tarp to dry as much as possible. While we waited, a camper came over from the next site to ask if we wanted waterproof matches and a propane canister since he and his son couldn't carry them on the plane home. We were happy to accept and talked with the two for a while, getting a pic with the bikes and his son Nouewen who appeared about 14 or so. They were very nice and we enjoyed the chat.
Hunger drove us to Banff for breakfast on the packed bikes, our budget breakfast at McDonald's shattered when we found they didn't serve breakfast, but a coffee shop around the corner saved the day with hot bagel sandwiches and coffee.
It was raining as we gassed up and headed north for Lake Louise and Moraine Lake on the way to Jasper. The scenery continued to stun, the milky turquoise rivers and streams looking false as we sped past between massive mountains. I warned The Butterfly that the crowds ahead would be thick, but the lake views were worth it. Indeed the traffic was heavy but the great thing about bikes is that you can squeeze in anywhere and we got spots right near the lake.
The breathtaking view of the water and glacial ice was not dulled by the throngs of people there, and the color and view seems entirely false and difficult to take in. We watched the endless selfies, each trying to find a spot free of people. We did our best to get our own and in the process met a family of Indian descent who talked to us in length about our trip. The son told me his desire was to ride a Royal Enfield in the Himalayas and I told him our paths would cross there one day.
From Lake Louise we rode up to Lake Moraine and were blown away at the sight of the water - an even more intense aqua color than Louise. It really can't be described or captured but we took it in as we ate a sandwich on the lakeside.
From Moraine we headed north for Jasper, the road tightening and the views becoming even more breathtaking. Somewhere along the way we missed the turn for Jasper and had gone about 20 miles west towards Golden before I realized it. Even though we lost a good 45 minutes in a sidetrack, there were no complaints since the road was awesome.
Once on the proper road again, our communicator chatter consisted of ever increasing "Wow. Unbelievable. Amazing." and so on. At the Columbia Ice Fields, minds were blown. Stopping to try and capture the images and immensity of views was an act of frustration. It simply can't be captured or conveyed in images but I half heartedly tried, content with capturing the images in my mind.
At a gas stop for a quick snack I read the guide for the area and saw that National Geographic had described the highway as one of the top roads in the world. Easy to see why.
As we headed for Jasper in the fading light and threatening skies I began to stress about finding a camp spot ahead. Each of the few had “full” signs as we passed and it was nearing dark as we exited the park at Jasper. I spun around and went back to the entry booth to ask the attendant if he had any suggestions for camping. He said all campgrounds were full in the area but then got on the phone and found there was a spot left at the Wabasso campground. He asked the girls there to hold it for us.
I was greeted by "Bonjour!" at the Wabasso entrance booth, to which my Texas accent version of "Bonjour" brought a smile. The two girls were intrigued to see Texans at the campground and even more so that my last name was French. We set up camp and got a small fire going before the fatigue of the day caught up.
We both had reached saturation points as to the beauty of the ride - much as when you've laughed so much at a comedian that you can no longer laugh - and the thought of trying to talk of what we'd seen was overwhelming.