Day 8 at Sunwapta Falls Resort starts out like I feel; a bit drab and cloudy. Puttering around the cabin getting things organised, every little thing isn't quite right: cycling clothes I left outside overnight slightly damp, a tube of something in my wash bag has leaked a little, can't find my cycling sunnies, suitcase won't pack properly, the roof has caved in - little things like that.
I know what it is - the roof has caved in metaphorically on my mood. I'm pissed off because it is Day 8 of the tour, and the last all of us will be together on the road, bikes and all. I don't handle this type of stuff very well, and so rather than address it mentally upfront, I rumble and rage internally in pointless fashion.
Outside, everyone has gathered around the van for bike checks, route instructions etc. Nothing is said but I think the presence of the last day is hanging in the air. Checking and putting air into my tyres, the pump fitting won't do its thing, and I curse under my breath, "For f*** sake!".
Once again, David and I take off together (at least something is going right - he is a great partner!) and rumble down the road to Jasper. After a short while Jabe hops on as well, another positive omen.
But tension is still building behind my eyes: I can't get comfortable on the bike, my helmet is annoying me, the bumps in the road all appear to be targeting me specifically, and twice in quick succession I accidentally hit the stop button (located on my hood) for my cycle computer, something I haven't done all tour. Again, "For f*** sake!".
A small rise appears ahead. OK, enough of this! I let David and Jabe get ahead, and as they disappear over the crest, I check behind me (no-one within earshot) and then let out the loudest scream of frustration and melancholy I can muster. Enough, enough, enough! Deal with it, let it go and enjoy this time that is now, now!
It works - pacing back up to the other two, I feel much better and my outlook is re-oriented: I am going to have fun doing what I've had fun doing all tour: riding with great tour members on great roads with great scenery!
Mark, Stuart and James are ahead on the road, and I suggest we stealth up to them, and sweep pass doing a little cross-the-line arms-in-the-air victory dance. Not sure whether David and Jabe actually agreed as I'd already dropped it down a cog and powered up in order to attack. Getting closer, I put the hammer down and zoom past them, whooping in mock delight and doing a clumsy arm raise. They take it in good spirit, with shouts of "Go Len!", "Woo-hoo!" etc - that has been the whole spirit of the tour. Well that's me done for the day! I tootle along out front for a while before some consecutive rises slow me down and Mark, Stuart and James re-pass. It was a hollow mock-victory celebration for me, and this passing preserves the natural hierarchy of things: amongst this pack of hard core riders, I am at the bottom of the pecking order!
Soon after, they do their usual double back (I think this trio rode to the moon and back on this tour), and it's me, David and Jabe trundling on to Athabasca Falls, some 24km from our start point of the Resort.
Pulling into Athabasca Falls, we dismount and explore. There are quite a few ob posts and the Falls themselves are impressive and craggy with some interesting water-carved features: pics below.
We are now getting off the Icefield Parkway and moving onto the older, less car-populated Hwy 93A which follows the Athabasca River in the general direction of Jasper. The road isn't the smoothest - in some places it's a bone rattler and a little concentration picking one's way through potholes, ridges etc is required. But we all take turns up front, leading the cruisy pace and pointing out the larger rifts in the road, and the journey is very, very pleasant.
For the next 19.5 km, we cruise along, chatting and observing. The road is practically devoid of cars which is great. Brandon in the van is only one of a handful that come up from behind, ringing the bike bell as has been done all tour, a gesture I've come to really enjoy for the care it implies and the camaraderie it signifies.
The Athabasca River snakes its way on our right beside the road for large portions - at this point it is a wide, shallow, and real 'bear' country style river. On the left, the forest periodically breaks out into 'moose' ponds (I have no idea why I call them this except they look just like what a moose would appreciate in a pond) - large open shallow waters surrounded by rushes and other low plants, basking in the morning sun. The charmingly named Leach Lake passes - not sure whether it's so named because it's filled with blood sucking creatures, but I don't intend to dip a leg in to find out!
Idling along, we enjoy the time and the views. Soon we encounter the familiar silver van up ahead parked beside the road: Brandon is getting sick of driving, and wants a ride. He has chosen for this the road to Mt Edith Cavel - notice the Mount bit! - and he wants our sorry arses with him! Well, by our sorry arses I mean mine, as David, and Jabe are perfectly capable of scaling near vertical cliffs, and this little uphill won't tax them in the least.
I um and ah and then with a quick "I'm off", decide. Brandon queries my intent - "Off to Jasper?" and I say, "No, off up the hill!"
So, off we go. From Brandon's casual description, I know it's gonna hurt me more than a little but what the hell, I've actually come to enjoy the sensation and the resulting sense of accomplishment. Soon, the three of them pull away from me (but not too quickly) up the potholed, bumpy, narrowish road and I'm left to my own devices, ambling up the initial switchbacks, which are tight.
I get a rhythm going - I'm getting quite good at alternating in and out of the saddle and whilst I'm working hard, I'm not into the red: I'm hovering around the 13-14km/h mark up hills which are in some sections as steep as the initial part of the killer Alisa sent me up at the Prince of Wales (will I EVER forget that? - of course not girl!) so I'm doing pretty well for me. The others aren't pulling away from me hugely, I see them ahead from time to time on the longer stretches; maybe 300-400 meters after 5 or 6 kms. As we ascend, the road gets less twisty and less steep - good stuff. I'm enjoying this slog!
The occasional car passes but causes no problems - throughout this tour, cars have almost always been courteous, slowing down and waiting until it is clear to pass etc. I can recall only two occasions where a car got a bit close, or honked a horn. On another day on this blog, I'll record my thoughts about my home-town Perth drivers: this tour confirmed my suspicions that normally friendly, laid back people turn into rabid dickheads when seated in motor vehicles over here!
After what I'm guessing is about 8km, I round a bend to find the boys off the bikes and checking the view at a pullout. I stop (naturally!) and take in the view - the Athabasca river at this point runs through a narrow valley, the slopes of which have some spectacular sand slides on them. Here's the pics:
After a quick break, it's upwards again. As per the usual pattern the others pull ahead, although David stays for a short while, a nice gesture which I appreciate. But my plodding pace is a couple of km/h too slow for him so soon he's off in pursuit.
Another 2-3kms on it does become a pursuit - I round a bend to find the rest of them coming down! Well, bugger that - I am the King of Downhill (at least in my tiny mind!). Executing a u-turn, I'm off after their scalps.
There's definitely a competitive edge in all this group: friendly but definitely a big-boy casual rivalry. And I'm as bad as the rest of them on that score. Given that I'm continuously getting my arse handed to me by all these characters uphill, I figure it's my turn to show them the back of a bike!
Coming up on Jabe, I wait for a nicer bit of road to pass. Going up this road at a much slower speed, it seemed a little bumpy but OK. Going down is an entirely different proposition - little bumps become launching pads at speed, and the smallish but numerous potholes become chasms which jar your teeth through your head and attempt to fit your seat somewhere the sun doesn't shine! So an active scanning of the road is required, and forget pointing out road 'issues' to those trailing.
On a particularly bumpy part of road at speed, Jabe's bike jettisons a water bottle and it bounces up and hits my headstock. No problems, but I shout to Jabe that he's lost it. He slows to retrieve it - hey cool, one down and two to go! Next in my sights is Brandon and things are working out really well - his seat bag is loose and flopping around under his seat and this slows him. Hehe - two down! I line David up, and lo and behold, another loose seat bag (which he's had before on the tour). I point this out, but he's not taking the bait. Still, it slows him enough that I scramble past.
Having got past, I have to stay past! Coming up to the switchbacks we climbed earlier this will be difficult: my significantly greater weight means I must brake with some sensitivity, and earlier. So I stay ahead by the simple expediency of crowding the road in the turns and then pushing it on the short straights between the almost 180 degree bends. Ha - it works! It likely pisses off David right behind me but it works. Arriving at the bottom of the bone-jarring road, my arms feeling like they've been compressed by about 3 or 4 centimeters, I win! Win what I have no idea, but who cares! A nice little 20-odd km detour is over.
(Note: I'm pretty sure the others didn't even know they were in a race - but that doesn't count!).
Brandon is leaning down inspecting his front wheel - he strums his finger across a spoke which is so loose, it sounds like the low E on a bass guitar! The jarring ride downhill has uncompressed his wheel in spots so much that the spoke has rotated to total slackness. I offer up my spoke tool - it helps as he soon declares he's off back up Hwy 93A from where we'd earlier arrived to find other members of the tour.
We are within about 14k of Jasper now and David, Jabe and I roll along the now general downhills of Hwy 93A toward it. The road is good, as is the feeling.
Around and over the top of a sweepy slightly uphill curve, a final long and nicely steep downhill shows itself. The killer instinct rises - I'm at the back and I'm gonna get down this first AND crack 80km/h as well! So, down to 53/12 and pedal with all I've got - I edge past first David and then Jabe. The road flows before me and I'm now scooted down in the seat but keeping my hands on the hoods for stability sake. Up to high 70's and a slow curving bend appears. Stuff it, I'm not slacking off and keep pedaling! Rounding the corner and down the long straight the magic figures appear on my computer - 82 km/h! Woo-hoo! We keep speed down the hill until the sign for Hwy 93 informs us we need to stop for the Icefield Parkway dead ahead.
The final kms into Jasper roll by. I know the riding is soon to be over but I'm happy - really happy.
The last little section into Jasper is an uphill curving to the right. I chuckle to myself as Jabe and David do a final little 'man-dance' race to the top - they can have that one to themselves! Jabe keeps going down the main road - his car has been driven up to Jasper by friends and he's off to find it.
David and I vaguely follow directions to Centennial Park, our tour gathering-spot, meeting a walking Mark and Stuart on the way who shout us directions which we for some reason ignore! We do a little tour around some back streets of Jasper before we find the park. Jabe bikes up a few seconds later - he's not sure of the location of the car and will wait for Julie.
He and I decide to go into town for a look, and gently ride off, trundling around the nice streets of the very pretty town and visiting two shops we find. On this final day, I've worn my Canadian cycle shirt and I'm wondering if I'm in Canada: people are looking at me as if I'm an alien. Perhaps one only wears non-patriotic gear around here, or the local Jasper variant of the shirt? There's not a lot on offer for Jabe - as one store guy explains, it's "like, snowboarding season coming up dude". I do a surreptitious double-take: more surfer-ese! hehe!
Back at the park, and people are arriving as Doug gets to work on the portable barbie knocking up some delicious smelling meat pieces - my stomach growls in anticipation.
Knowing it's no more bike riding, I retrieve my clothes bag and dress in jeans, shirt and warm jacket: it's not cold, but cooling down after the road makes it seem a little chilly.
With ppl seated all around, the typical yummy lunch comes and goes, followed by a presentation by Brandon, Doug and Alisa in which our Tour completion certificates are given out. Along with this, some cute little badges for the Polar Bear club! There are three levels of club membership, and I surprisingly receive full accreditation, even tho' I only Polared 3 times. I am sure that I received this generous award because of my participation in the Lake Louise escapade, where Doug and I courageously braved all that the lake could throw at us - twice! I salute you brother Doug and next time, if I'm lucky to do the trip with you again, we will conquer whatever the frigid waters will throw at us each day.
I
will do this trip again - that's a definite!
Jabe says some words about the dedication and wonderfulness of the guides, words which we all appreciate and echo, and then I wander around taking final pics of everyone: *sniff*. Here is a fabulous pic of Alisa, Brandon and Doug (Doug again doing some weird nipple oriented thing!):
My little buddy Jacob and I wander into town, once again on my quest to find money! Over the tour, I've come to appreciate him and enjoy his company greatly. Wow!, there's no way I'd have predicted that - my normal view of teenagers is they should be locked in a cupboard and only let out when they are 21! I'm gonna miss the little dude! Remember Jacob my mate, next time you're in a Canadian cab, "scoot over little dude so cab-dude can like pick up those two hot babes!" :)
I find a teller machine, and amazingly, it takes my card, gives me money, and then even returns said card! This isn't a common occurrence over here believe me!
We amble back to the park where bikes are getting put on trailers and people are finishing off whatever it is they need to. Someone informs me that Jabe and Julie have left in their car already - I feel like I've been sucker-punched! Stupid money chase has deprived me of the chance to say goodbye to two of the nicest and kindest people I've met, and whose company on and off the bike I enjoyed so much during this tour.
I sit on a pile of construction wood close to the van, a bit dazed and feeling really far off. A little shout raises my head - it's Julie running up to give me a big hug! She and Jabe have come back to say goodbye to some of us they'd missed. We hug and I have tears in my eyes. Then she's off to give Jacob a hug and I run over to the car to shake Jabe's hand and thank him for all the great rides and times with him. That one small gesture of theirs says more about them as people than I ever could.
Then they're off for good this time - we wave and shout goodbyes and their car disappears. I'm breezing around now - phew! - and we all pile into the vans for the trip back to Calgary and the airport where nearly everyone will be heading off from early next morning.
Well, we are sort-of off - we do laps of Jasper as we try and locate Alisa, who has gone into town to buy coffee for the guides at what I assume is a favoured shop of theirs? She's been swallowed up by the streets, but a few mobile phone calls later she's located at the coffee shop she'd walked to, from, and then back to!
So, the long (6 hr) van ride back to Calgary commences. As rides go it was OK but I don't recall a lot. I was replaying a lot of the tour in my head at this stage.
We stop at a pub in Canmore for dinner - apparently it has this traditional Canadian dish called poutines: here's the Wikipedia entry explaining them.
Wikipedia 'Poutine'
For those who don't follow the link it's "a dish consisting of French fries topped with fresh cheese curds and covered with hot gravy (usually brown gravy)".
Sorry to diss all Canada, but no thanks! (And all the members of my tour wondered at my liking for vegemite???)
Anyway, dinner turns into a three-ringed circus: we can't be served in the main area as Jacob is under 18 and there is some local law about serving alcohol in the presence of minors, the bar is packed and anything ordered will take about an hour, the waitress has the memory of a... well, I'll be charitable, but a beer for me is beyond her, and the setting up of some tables for us in an area where we can be served takes an eternity.
Still, we are eventually seated, we eventually eat, and I spend a nice time chatting with Bonnie and Bill, which reinforces my appreciation for them.
That over, it's back in the van and onto Calgary. As we approach the outskirts of this city, we can see it is large and sprawling: very large indeed! After what seems like hours (and a 30 minute crawl along a jammed freeway which signs say has been the subject of a rock fall, but when we finally clear the obstruction turns out to be a road gang cleaning something and taking up 3 lanes of a four lane freeway!!!!) we arrive at the Delta Calgary, our final destination. It has a pool in the lower foyer but big deal - I'm sad. As we gather, we check in and then say final goodbyes: all except myself, Danette, James and the guides are flying out from the airport right here.
I suck at this and mumble stuff to various ppl - I should've practiced! To all tour members who may read this, if I missed anyone or seemed offhand I apologise: I'm just crappy at this stuff!
I help Steve and Amy to their room with some bags - I sadly say goodbye to them and Jacob, and then it's off to my room. It's nice - but who cares? My thoughts are all over the place: one part sadness, one part satisfaction, and two parts sense of achievement! What a trip: Canadian Gulf Islands and Glacier, Banff, Jasper in one hit!
Day 9: in which we van back to Whitefish Montana, I get to ride and chat with Alisa and see the countryside, I have a nice meal at the Grouse Mountain Lodge, Doug surprises me with a huge act of generosity, and I pack away my trusty bike for the trip home from Canada.
