Over in the Resort eatery, other tour members have long gone and I 'grab and run' various foods - I still need to pack my stuff and get organised. I leave Jacob tending to his stomach and I tend to my stuff.
Completing the usual process of 'stuff the van' - we bring stuff and the guides stuff it - we check bikes out and then are off in dribs and drabs. It's chilly out and somewhat overcast so I'm rugged up in long leggings, an undershirt, long-sleeved winter top covered by a lighter cycling top, and my warm but eye-searingly bright yellow long-fingered gloves (the idea is to look fast, rather than be fast). I actually dress like this the majority of mornings over here - whilst the temperatures we experience most mornings of the tour are comparable to Perth's mild winter ones on the scale, it seems to me to be a different kind of temperature: the chill seems to penetrate more bitingly. By the time lunch rolls around I am thoroughly warmed up and can discard some layers. Ppl have commented on my overheating potential, but I never do - I just discard what is no longer required at lunch. Today I am to be glad I rugged up - later at lunch we stand on a Glacier and the chill I find intense.
Just before we go I grab a pic of the van in the parking lot - it disappears into the bowels of my camera lens and is never seen again. I know I took it coz I spent a while composing it to get the van, resort sign, and most of our members in shot, all from a funny angle that comprised me lying contorted on the ground. Also, it was there in the viewfinder post-shot in all its glory! Meh!
David, Jabe and I end up tootling along together for a while. The roads are barely rolling at this stage so they cannot shame me with their prowess (and my lack of it) up rises - in fact I go so far as to say I am OK on flats and amongst the kings of downhills, thanks chiefly to my 'racing weight': 92 kilograms and downhills are a fun combo.
At about 30km into this mornings ride we are to ascend Sunwapta Pass, which according to my only-now-consulted guide notes, rises 580 meters over a distance of some 14km - a very reasonable 4% grade average: simple! Closer inspection of said notes doesn't reveal that there is a rather longish 'rise' of about 8km which contributes the bulk of this altitude gain: more like a 7.25% average gradient over this distance. Hmm, more interesting!
Luckily, I hadn't inspected my guide notes this morning (as per usual) so was blissfully unaware of what lay ahead. Jabe and I continued to bowl along (I think David had gone back to ride with Emily and Bonnie - clearly he knew what was in store) at a good clip up slightly rising terrain. At one stage I happened to glance up and see a rather large mountain ahead of us, but the road didn't appear to go in that direction - it continued to follow a wide river pan to our left. Some rising terrain ahead took my concentration and slowed me a little - Jabe moved ahead at this point.
Rounding a curve nearer the foot of the mountain that turned away from it, I again glanced up: the curve ran away from the steep cliff and then did a complete 180 and carved up in one straight line along its face! OK, take a breath, steel yourself and hello grind! Jabe had rounded the re-curve and was heading up the slope so I wouldn't see him until after the top - it was just me, my bike and this incline. Later, on the day after the tour, on which I rode back in the van with Alisa to the tour originating point, we came to the crest of this mountain from the other side and were greeted with a sweeping view of everything below: WAY below! It impressed me that we all got over this!
The nature of the initial incline was not one I appreciated - up to a point it slowly increased in pitch as one progressed and then varied (which makes it difficult to get a rhythm). Some points felt very steep. With nowhere to go gearwise - 39 by 23! - I decided to have a system: 500 meters out of the saddle to gain some momentum (ha!) and 500 meters in the saddle to 'rest'. My forward progress slowed to just under 11km/h, which, with my modest climbing ability and the gearing I had, was pretty much as slow as I could go and still manage to get the pedals over the top point of their motion and hence keep progressing. One complete pedal revolution (top to top) at that gearing equals a little over 3 meters of on-road distance - ridiculously easy on a flat but very grinding here.
2 km into the ride and I was in the red - time for a re-think. I decided to keep seated and just push the pedals thru' the floor. At this stage, I looked up and spied a bike ahead. I knew it couldn't be Jabe but it gave me something to chase. Closing in on it, I saw onboard a rider from another group who had been at the same resort the previous night. I'd greeted several of them last night and had got what I thought was a fairly snooty reaction. Turns out that (maybe) they were doctors and surgeons etc with ultra expensive equipment - ahah, just the stereotype (whether true or not) I needed to get me a little pissed and motivated! With a move which likely says far more about me, I sped up as best I could, put on my best 'this is piss easy' look, and swept past with a breezy "Hi!", leaving the clearly suffering guy in my wake. Hardly charming behaviour but hey, this was raw survival instincts. Ahead lay another 'victim' and then another!
Seeing all these potential smackdowns put a fire under my arse and I started burning up the climb, determined to catch and pass as many as I could. With cheery shouts of "Morning", "Nice day", "Great climb hey?", I rode by them (I even started getting out of my saddle as I passed to demonstrate the ease of my ascent) - what a bastard I was! Reaching a well appreciated false-flat, I knew the climb wasn't fully over but was into it now. The final part of the climb (about 2km) came and went - the fact that there was no-one else to pass was irrelevant now: I was fired up. In the distance I saw Jabe and vowed to catch him as the road was now a slight decline, and did so (he was loitering on the road) just as we reached the lunchtime turn off into the Icefield Center parking lot. Made it!
Jabe and I were first in, right behind Brandon and the van: rest time. Jabe as usual decided to turn around and find Julie so off he went for a descent and then a re-climb! I spent a few minutes gathering my thoughts and breath and then started surveying the scene across the road. Rather than describe it, I'll let the pics speak for themselves:
Stuttfield Glacier
Athabasca Glacier
Snow Dome
It was amazingly, staggeringly spectacular: no crappy photos could ever do it justice. Just go see it because sometime (a time which seems not far away) it will likely be gone.
I say this because at this point, I turned to Brandon and we had a chat about the eye-popping beauty of the place, and in passing, he pointed at a small cairn with an attached plaque nearby and said something I didn't quite catch. I moved over to the cairn: I read that at this very spot in 1850, the tip of Athabasca Glacier reached to here. Back then, if I'd been standing 20 feet further into what is now the carpark, I would have been buried in a river of ice.
Look at the photos - see the distance to the glacier: you figure out how far it's receded in that time. These little cairns depicting its recession as of various years are lined up funeral-procession-like all the way to the current foot of the glacier: the increase in speed of recession is there for all to see.
Don't give me arguments about the uncertainty of the anthropogenic influence on current warming climate conditions: policy makers and everyone get your arses up here and see this. It's a knee-collapsing, gut-shot, drop-to-the-floor heart and mind wrench. Do what you can people - ride bikes, drive less, use energy saver bulbs, turn off standby appliances, investigate solar heating and alternative power generation technologies: whilst everyone can appear hypocritical, because we all could do vastly more (absolutely myself included), we need to start it somewhere with ourselves first. It's already too late for this piece of rock and ice, but maybe other places most of us will never see can be preserved. The fact that they are there unseen is a reward enough.
To lighten the mood a little, Brandon informs me he has to move the van from its current spot - apparently we are parked on top of the Icefield Center's septic tanks and they are due to be pumped out! Eeeeewww - and lunch just about to start. Well stuff that! A bunch of us decide to walk over to the foot of the Athabasca Glacier and check it out.
Trundling off, we make our way across the road and up the trail to the foot of the glacier. Storyboards along the way depict in word and illustrations the dangers of walking on crevasse filled glaciers, the what I think are rather comical paintings of ppl jammed into crevasses freezing their arses off and perishing en masse getting me chuckling! The warnings get even less meaningful when you reach the glacier and all that presents a barrier between yourself and progress up the ice itself is a bunch of orange road cones in a pitiful semi-circle, the top of which has been scattered as hordes of intrepid explorers risk life and limb to smash thru' them on their way onwards and upwards. OK, I'm sure there is a danger no matter how slight, but at least back it up via authoritative barriers if you're that worried!
Taking a few seconds to survey the scene - I see no ppl plummeting to imminent death - we advance out onto the ice. At first it is fairly grubby and muddy with the detritus walkers have hauled up from the trail, but as we respectfully ascend (eyes out for crevasses altho' we have no idea what an as yet still covered one even looks like) the ice cleans up, and we are slowly walking onto white, crunchy ice along rivulets of water and amongst small ridges and dips. The ice has a pockmarked appearance - lots of tiny little sharp points and valleys, and in patches it is clear, and blue. You can hear water trickling and running - most of it is visible on the surface but in places it can be heard coming from beneath the crust: I stay away from walking on those spots. We wander round enjoying the views and the sensation of walking on this frozen terrain: it's a bit like moving around on some giant percolating creature and I'm struck by how long it's been here on this earth and how short a time I have.
We soon reach a point of limit, at least a mental one: whilst nothing is said, progress forward stops and we wander around an unmarked demarcation line, soaking in the view and sensations. I want to progress more - it's not a safety issue in my mind - but I don't because it would seem a bit - disrespectful? "Pay homage, but don't walk all over me" the glacier seems to say.
We gather for group photos: ppl kindly take cameras and share the duties. Here's the one from my camera, graciously taken by Jabe (the lower photo, complete with bloody camera strap!, records this).
Look closely at the first picture - you will observe something which, at first glance, passes you by, but when you really SEE, fills you with wonder and affirms we are not alone in this universe.
There is a 'visitor' in the picture (far left) - his name is Jeffrey. This is the same Jeffrey who survived a plummet to earth off his bike at ferocious speeds and who I later chatted to and came away with the sense that he was something special. He is special - he is an ALIEN!
How else does one explain the fact that he is standing on a glacier (consisting predominantly of ice), which is being swept by a wind of not inconsiderable velocity and thus rendering the immediate atmosphere in technical terms 'frigid', wearing nothing more than a singlet, shorts, sandals, a short haircut, and an enormous grin? Look at the rest of us - our poses clearly indicate we are just short of expiring from the cold. YOU CANNOT EXPLAIN IT BY ANY OTHER MEANS - he is plainly and simply a visitor from another galaxy.
It is my theory that he is from an advanced race who have perfected the ability to manipulate the micro environment around their body, achieving a state of constancy conducive to their wellbeing: he does this by somehow tapping the as yet unknown-to-us powers of tie-dye. My proof - I saw him in nothing other than this tie-dye 'singlet' (in reality the medium whereby his race taps into vast, fundamental unknown forces of the universe) during the entire time he was on tour!
The evidence is irrefutable. Luckily I treated him with nothing less than deep respect throughout the tour (especially after this awesome demonstration of his species' control over climate) and I believe an interstellar ship will be coming soon, delivering to me a similar garment, and the detailed instructions on how to harness its deep and universal powers.
Ok, I exaggerate a little? But it was hilarious to me - sort of like I imagine 'Close Encounters on Ice' would be!
In all seriousness, there IS something about Jeffrey - I predict greatness! (remember this when you are a millionaire dude and slip a few dollars my way!)
Trudging back to the lunch area, I approach the van with trepidation: has the septic tank been pumped yet? Yes it has, and no toxic gases or foul smells spoil the atmosphere. Lunch having been dispatched, it's on the bikes for a promised mecca of downhill riding - yeah!
Setting off on my own (the others try and catch my draft going downhill!) and expectations high, I proceed downhill at a nice clip and several kms roll by - until the sight of another hill! Huh? Wasn't the rest of the 49km meant to be all downhill, well at least a decent portion of it? 800m of uphill later, during which Jabe again passes me, the true long downhill starts and it's away. Jabe is in front and I back off for a while. On serious downhills, each rider is pretty much in their own environment: you don't like to think about it, but if something happens then a bit of distance is prudent.
Streaming downhill, I reach speeds of high 70km/h along the flowing, slow curved road. Scooted back on the seat for stability, my bike is carving up the corners and swallowing the straights. I occasionally pedal in my 53/12 high gear but it's not all that necessary and my greater weight means I creep too close to Jabe if I do. I start to think about cracking the 80km/h mark. Because it's a bit winding and some of the roads are slightly blind around corners (and mainly because I'm a big chicken!) my preservation instinct holds me back.
But then 'round a sharpish bend, a glorious sight - a very long, nicely declining straight! OK, a quick pedal up to high-60's and then hands down to the drops and tuck down for the ride! Arriving at the high 70's and coming up on Jabe, my bike gets a little squirmy and then a little more squirmy, and then a LOT squirmy! Eeekkkk - hands back up on the hoods, and get a bit of body into the airstream to slow myself down. Everything comes back together nicely - it seems pretty clear that it's getting into the drops which is the issue, possibly an aero thing. Unfortunately there is no more time to test this as this straight signals the return to more undulating road: whilst the ongoing journey to our destination of Sunwapta Resort involves a loss of altitude, it's not all that great from here and it's a roller-coaster of a ride from now on.
Here I think Jabe turned back, I'm not sure as after a while I was on my own. But not matter - it was warm and still and I was chugging along quite well. Then I hear a voice behind me - it's Doug in cruise missile mode coming alongside from behind. We exchange greetings and he comments that we haven't had a chance to ride together all tour: I interpret that as 'get a move on sucker'! So, it's time for a man-dance! I go up a cog and settle in for a stint up front and the train gets rolling. I'm pushing pretty hard as I don't want Doug to think of me as a wimp, and the pace is high. The rolling hills which I'd normally slow down considerably on I try and attack, and manage marginally well. Distance whizzes beneath the wheels and I'm up front for quite a while. Doug then comes by and indicates he'd better take a turn, and it's my turn to be impressed.
Doug isn't an overly large guy, fairly lean and toned rather than big-muscled, but on the bike he powers like a train, maybe TWO trains. And so I hop on the 'Doug-train'. Whilst our general flat road pace doesn't increase (I suspect he knows that's about it for me) our pace up the rises does, mainly because rises are pretty much taken by Doug at the same pace as flats! He doesn't crush hills like Mark - it's more just a glide over them, an occasional shift down a gear to keep the cadence up. I learn more about correct gear technique riding behind Doug on this one section than in all my riding to this point. And because the speed is kept up ascending these rises, I am actually getting towed up them - the aero advantage is enough that I can feel the assistance.
So, now a strategy has been worked out (mainly due to Doug's astuteness) - it's us sharing the flats, me leading mostly downhill, and Doug providing the tow uphill. We steam along (well at least my definition of steaming - I suspect Doug is just out on a Sunday ride). At one point Doug reminds me that I can drink - I'd forgotten about anything but the road: white line fever! That done, we steam on. Seemingly out of nowhere, a turn off appears on the road ahead - it's the Resort! Wow - that was fast. Thanks to Doug's assistance and encouragement, I've motored faster just now than ever before.
Doug turns around to check on his flock, ever the guide. This is a characteristic of all our guides Doug, Brandon and Alisa - whilst they clearly enjoy what they do, they are singularly professional at all times.
I sit around for a while enjoying the feeling of the ride and slowing down after the rush. The luggage van had arrived just before us and I pilfered a beer and then went off to sit near the road. After a quick scull of the bottle, I decided to pedal the 500 meters down the road alongside the resort to Sunwapta Falls for a sticky-beak. The falls are excellent, more of the narrow but deep gorge style - some piccies below:
Pedalling back, I meet a few group members who've just arrived - I tell them about the Falls and off they go.
I grab another beer and walk my bike back to the night's cabin. Jacob is inside watching TV - as old re-runs of Law and Order aren't showing, I sit on the porch and down the beer, then return and we watch a truly crappy local station. It's reassuring that TV is as shit over here as back home! After a shower, I hang my washed cycle gear (you throw it in the shower with you and stamp on it!) all over the porch - hopefully bears don't have a desire to wear lycra!. Back to watching TV, and Jacob and I conduct a running commentary deriding every aspect of the station, including howls of laughter, and howls of wolves and dogs. Emily later remarks that "you guys sure were making a lot of noise!".
Later that night we partake of a lovely barbeque (hmmm, steak!), fight over some leftovers, and then a game warden chats to us informatively about native wildlife. During this, Stuart volunteers as a prop and slowly acquires the look of a brown bear as he progressively dons various parts of the guise handed out by the warden. Actually he looks more like a hobo badly dressed liked a bear, but it's not his fault - his sense of cycle fashion had become legendary on tour: one day he donned a zebra-striped ensemble that was so good that he would've been immediately downed and devoured by a pack of lions if he was wandering on the plains of Africa. Hail clothes-bitch!
The night over, we wander back to our rooms and sleep. No TV as I'm pretty tired, a fact confirmed when I probably fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.
Tomorrow, Day 8, and our last time together as an entire group, ride or otherwise. Highlights include me getting pissed off over this fact and chucking an on-bike spazz; visiting Athabasca Falls; Jabe, David and I join up and ride one final time; Brandon joins in on the old Hwy 93 and we take a detour up Mt Edith Cavel for one last grindy climb and a bone-rattler of a descent; one last smooth descent into Jasper on which I pass Jabe and David, and 80km/h; one last ascent into Jasper on which Jabe and David pass me and race each other to the top, and lunch and farewell to the bikes and two lovely people.
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