Few vehicles seem to travel BC-6 heading north along Slocan Lake to Nakusp where I stop to find a different bank than the Kootenay Bank in New Denver. The CIBC on Broadway has an ATM that gladly accepts my Schwab card and spits out my desired amount of Canadian cash. With spending money on hand now, I continue my parallel with the Upper Arrow Lake along BC-23 until the road ends at the lake itself. From here, there is no choice but the free ferry across to the other side. I pull up behind four other cars in the left waiting line, turn off the engine and walk back to the restrooms since the ferry runs from this side—Galena Bay—on the half of each hour. The crossing will take about 20 minutes and land us on Shelter Bay for the continuation of BC-23 up to the Trans-Canadian Highway 1.
Once back on solid land, the parade of vehicles motors up to the highway, then chooses east or west. I turn east to follow the highway through two National Parks, Mt. Revelstoke National Park and Glacier National Park, and through the town of Golden. Then I start looking for my turn off for the night.
A Sea of Gnats
There are a few sites with fire rings, a sign asking that all fires are put out, and a dumpster. Another rutty road continues down to the right and I follow it down. The terrain opens up, flattens out, and as many as ten more sites, each with fire ring, are scattered along the edge of the river. Some, at the end, are still pretty muddy from a high snow year slowly melting in the warming spring sunshine, so I choose a dry one about half way. Snow crusted craggy mountains line up farther down the valley, and also behind from where I have just come, to frame the setting sun. Pine tree tips light up in the lowering glow which illuminates the sea of flying gnats permeating the atmosphere like pollen.
I stuff my pant legs into my socks, zip up my fleece pullover up to my chin, and pull down my sun hat to just over my ears. I place my low beach chair in the warmth of the sunlight still beaming in my direction, eat some dinner, and read until the trees put the sun to bed for the night. As the water flows gently by near my site, another party of folks drives in a few sites down, sets up their tent for the night and settles in. For a brief moment, on a Monday night, I thought I might just have the place to myself here in the Kicking River Crown Lands. My guess is that they read the free camping site as well. Nothing else would have been obvious that there was legal and free camping along this road.
I Love Free
Back in New Denver, folks were talking about the free Discovery Pass for Canada's National Parks this year—2017— their 150th anniversary. I went online to see how I could grab one up, but one would have to order it online and have it shipped somewhere. I let it go.
"I heard that the National Parks are free this year. How do I get a free pass?" I ask the woman in the booth.
"I have one for you here," she replies with a smile. "What's your zip code?"
I give her my zip, and she hands me my ticket to all of Canada's National Parks this year, along with brochures for Banff and Yoho National Parks, as well the map for the famed Icefields Parkway that runs along the spine of the Rockies between Banff and Jasper.
"The Icefields Parkway is the most beautiful road I've ever been on," S. had told me when I was trying to figure out where to go after New Denver. At the intersection with the Parkway and Highway 1, I turn south to Lake Louise for internet, gasoline, and the iconic Lake view. Once the errands are done, I drive up to the Lake nuzzling the high peaks holding firm the glacier. I am herded, yes, herded, up to the second parking lot where there are few spots left. People everywhere.
"Maybe some other time," I think. I know it's iconic, I've seen many photos of the resort pushed up to the hills above the lake. I know there will be other great views as I drive north on the Parkway, so I bamboozle my way out of the parking lot chaos, back out to the highway intersection and start my adventure with glaciers.
Slideshow:
Others are onto this free Park pass things as well, and although the drive is not bumper to bumper, there are quite a few visitors. I had hoped to have left them all back at Lake Louise. I pass by the pull offs and picnic areas with crowded lots, and find some open views over sprawling valleys. I stop in lines of cars where people have pulled over and gotten out with cameras. Big Horn Sheep grazing, or farther away, a black bear upturning rocks along the road edge. I hike out to the Columbia Icefield, but the melting edge is dangerous and the path is roped off. Water flows under the snow and ice making it risky to walk on it. Only paid tours, of course, can walk up the far edge of the field, and I watch a group of tiny black forms move in a line about three quarters the way up the glacier. I hadn't planned on driving the whole length up to the town of Jasper, but each bend in the road opened up a view more glorious than the one before. The juxtaposition of ice, rock, water and pine created an ever changing scenic kaleidoscope.
More Red Chairs
I don't know about the "Scenic View" red chairs scattered around Canada's Parks. I first saw them on the Gaspe Peninsula in Quebec last summer. Near waterfalls and lighthouses. They made some sense in front of a lighthouse. The waterfall, after some amount of hiking, didn't make as much sense, but were somehow weirdly quaint. I sat in one. I have a picture of me in it in front of the waterfall from last July. I start my hike out to Glacier Lake off the Icefields Parkway and try to figure out the conversion between miles and kilometers. I think back to my truck dashboard and when driving 60 kilometers per hour, it's really about 42 miles per hour. I got it. I know that once I reach 1.6 kilometers, I will have reached Howse Pass. So far, I've been hiking through pine forest, and the trees thin out to an open view off of a hillside. I follow the path up to the left for the full panorama.
"So sorry to disturb your solitude here," I say to a couple who are lounging in two red adirondack chairs that are cabled into the ground.
"Actually, we're just packing up to keep hiking, so the timing is perfect. We chanced upon the chairs just as other hikers were leaving as well," she says while he stuffs one of his clothing layers into his larger backpack.
We exchange more pleasantries as they gather themselves up to go, and once they are off, I sit down into one of the chairs connected together by a middle table covered with historical information.
Not that I'm really all that hungry at the moment, but since I'm in the chair, it makes sense to snack on something or other. So, I take in the history, a few handfuls of trail mix, and a tangerine. Some sips of water. Then, off to the trail for more kilometers through more forest, melting snow, mud, and water channels.
I finish off the rest of the 6.4 kilometers (one way) along the Howse River valley in a gentle ascent, then muddy descent and come out at Glacier Lake. Backcountry camping is allowed along one end of the lake, and a couple of tents are set up already. The red chair couple sits along a rocky beach for another snacking moment under the clouds moving in and blowing past the peak of Mt. Forbes to one side of the glacier and Mt. Erasmus to the other. The glacier sags between them, and if the sun was out, I'm sure it would be mirrored in the lake.
I have a quick snack, and start back. Nothing like a time deadline to keep the feet moving, and heart pumping. I have a free place to stay in Banff, and I need a couple of hours to get there. Three o'clock now, out by 5:30 hopefully, and I'll be knocking on the door of my hostess between 7:30 and 8 p.m.
"Hi Gail. We can't find the link to your blog site. Where are you right now and what are you up to?" was followed by personal news in her life.
I responded about Canada and my next move towards Banff.
The next e-mail came to me and to another friend of N.'s introducing us to each other. M. lives in Banff, and without the need to know their history, I send off a hello and an approximate time of traveling through, my intention of a meet up, and the inquiry about a place to park my truck overnight legally.
With an overcrowded house (M., her tenant, her daughter and daughter's boyfriend all in living attendance), the driveway is flat and can work for me to sleep in my truck there. And so, it begins, as most serendipitous connections with complete strangers begin.
Throngs of tourists, tour buses, RV's, and cars jam up downtown Banff, and just trying to park my truck in order to find internet to Google the house directions is daunting. I pull into a gas station to fuel up since I need to do that anyway. Here, I acquire a city street map for the taking, and the two men working the counter help me find the right street which is over near the gondola at the edge of town. I find the street, then the house and park on the street to start. I ring the doorbell and M. opens the door with outstretched arms, a huge smile and welcoming hello. "This is my circle", I think. "Friends of good friends."
"Just the other day, one of my neighbors was charged by a bull elk. They look gentle enough.But, they are still wild. I actually like that here, at the end of my street, I'm lower down on the food chain," she tells me. We move more quickly to the other side of the bridge as the elk graze closer and closer to us.
Back at the house, my lovely hostess offers a shower—complete with fuzzy towel. These are the simple pleasures. I had brought in my micro-fiber travel towel and toiletries, and upon seeing my towel, she insisted on using a real one instead.
"I've traveled," she tells me. "I know."
I finish up in the upstairs bathroom and head down to the strums of guitar chords. M., a singer/songwriter who works a lot with kids, also works with adults around singing. She asks if she can try out a new song on me, and I am delighted: about a man who meditates and sure can kiss, but he doesn't quite show up for the rest.
"Real story, real man?" I ask.
"Yes. But I had to let him go. If someone says they will call, they have to call. Sometimes there's a valid reason that a call doesn't happen, but no apologies later? I don't have the guy, but I do have a good song that other women may get something from. Do you sing?"
I tell her about the Ukulele and my decision to try again to break through my singing traumas.
"Wow," she says. "I'm on a mission to get people singing. I went to a workshop one time where the instructor said he thought the singing voice was the opening of the soul, and that most people don't open that expression due to some point of injury.
We talk more about singing injury (I have two specific ones that have haunted me over the course of my life), and then we pick a few songs to sing together. She knows. She had to work through her own point of injury at some point. I'm in good hands. But, alas, it's after 10 p.m. and the light is starting to finally fade. We say goodnight with the knowledge that we will say a proper goodbye in the morning.
And so we do, as I head back into the bustle of Banff, now armed with a recommendation for an all day free parking garage. Laundry and library are on the agenda today—thunderstorms and rain this afternoon.
"You are like a traveling minstrel," M. says as we part.
"If you find your way to visit N. in Massachusetts sometime, let me know too. I'll drive down and we'll all sing together!"
Thunder Over the Kootenays
Weather hoorah forces me to juggle the options around moving south. I look at the ten day forecasts for both sides of Glacier National Park in Montana, but wonder if the Park will pale in comparison to Canada's glacial spectacle. The Going To The Sun Road is not completely open yet across the Park. Snow plowing is still in process, so one can drive in only so far either from the west or the east. I check ten day forecasts for both sides. If I choose to start in the eastern section, I drive from Banff over to Calgary and south from there, but see limited free campsites online for that area of Canada near the border. Reservation lands rule the territory. I don't hit National Forest or Recreation Sites until the southern edge of the Glacier National Park. Campgrounds are few and expensive. Okay, I choose west to start with. I head back north on Highway 1 and take the exit for BC-93 heading southwest through Kootenay National Park. There are several park campgrounds listed along my road map, so I'll stop at one of those and pay the $15 plus Canadian for the night.
Scattered thunderstorms are called for this afternoon and evening, and one blew through Banff while I was in the library, then the skies broke open for the sun. I'm not convinced that one was it. Huge spans of dead pines line the lower hillsides of the mountains along BC-93 and I wonder if fire was the culprit, or something else.
The dead trees filter out into meadows and rivers.
As I wind down through the Kootenay National Park, the several campgrounds listed are barricaded off: CLOSED. Bummer. The dark gray clouds gather over the looming passes, and the wind picks up. Driving rain forces me to pull off to the side of the road to wait it out. Once the deluge passes, I start back onto the road, slowly, watching for bears. I had passed a flashing sign warning me that wildlife may be in the road, and a car coming from the other direction flashes its lights at me. I slow way down around the curve and sure enough, a black bear halts in the middle of the road, not sure which direction to go in. Cars are lining up from both direction, and the lead car, as well as me, are stopped completely to wait for the bear to choose a direction. It moves off the road to graze the roadside bushes on my side, and once sure it is staying on the sidelines, I slowly accelerate even though I want to just watch the munching.
Ah, Lake Life Plan B is already in motion now that I'm nearly at the end of the Park where it meets Radium Hot Springs, which is too expensive for me to buy. Just south of there is the town of Invermere, and from there to the north is Wilmer. A couple of turns gets me to Horsethief Road which turns into a forest road, then a right turn up to the Lake Enid Recreation Site. Puddled potholes create a driving obstacle course for about five kilometers, and I see the turn off just like the listing said. "No sign, but there is a camping fire ring at the fork turnoff." I drive uphill and around the bend, see the Recreation Site sign and then Lake Enid. About ten fire rings with pull outs, some with picnic tables, hold up along the road to the lake, and I choose a site up a knoll overlooking the lake. One other car is already parked in full view of the water. "Hello," I offer as greeting, and we chat for a few minutes. He's from Germany traveling for a few months around the States and Canada and will return to Germany soon. He found this free camping place online as well. I set up for the night, then walk the easy path around the circumference of the lake. Signs, benches, boardwalks, and bridges have been lovingly built by area conservation groups, and even more fire rings dot the far edges of the lake from where Julian, the young German traveler, | and I have parked for the night. Known also for ATV activity by the number of dirt roads webbing through the area, we are both relieved by the rain deluge today that just may have kept riders at home where they can be dry. A Painted Turtle methodically digs in the sand at the edge of the boat launch area and dock. Loons sing their haunting warbles. Other birds dash from tree to tree as I continue around the lake back to my truck just as rain splashes onto the flat water. I close myself in for a quiet night, and upon wakening, I find that Julian has already moved on. At another site, an RV has set up for the night, complete with a trailer and ATV. I don't linger. I'll eat breakfast later along the drive. I gather myself up, and drive on as well, stop in the city of Cranbrook to use wifi and make a final decision where to cross the border on my way to one side or the other of our own United States Glacier National Park in Montana. After the Icefields Parkway, I sure hope it's not a disappointment. Hard to beat what I just drove through. It's all in the adventure. |