Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 9.

Outside the Delta Calgary it is quiet and early morning. It's back-to-base day.

I wander around for a little, take a couple of pics of the van and trailer, and wait for the final pack (thankfully for the guides, there's not much to put in the trailer today). Here's a pic:



I wander over to the airport for a quick look - typical airport really. Seeing a teller machine (even tho' I got money out yesterday) I give it a whirl: again I am successful. I remember to make a note to myself next time I'm up here in Canada - it's better to rely on a money supply in your wallet than in your account!

Alisa, Doug and Brandon are tooling around the vans, and Danette and James have also appeared: this is what remains of the group. Brandon ducks over to the airport to pick up some coffees - he nicely asks me if I want something, and I go a cappuccino (the only coffee I drink). He arrives back in a couple of minutes and I try to give him some money, but he refuses: the typical gesture of all the guides on both my tours who have done a power of work throughout the tours in the most cheerful and professional fashion.

Piling into the vans, I hop into one with Alisa (I'd promised her the charm of my company the previous day) whilst Brandon, Doug, Danette and James pile into the other. 'Excellent' I think to myself - I can drive Alisa mad without creating further enemies. Revenge is on my mind - her treacherous gesture of sending me up to the 'bastard hill and lake-to-nowhere' on Day 3 still burns! (I am the grudge-meister!)

But of course, no such thing occurs, as Alisa is a charming, funny, down-to-earth and intelligent companion, and my faux-obsession with this episode merely a device to add a bit of poor humour to an otherwise dull story! (I told you earlier readers that she was a real sweety!)

Thankfully for me, Alisa is also seemingly oblivious to my rather stilted social manner, or is gracious enough not to announce it!. I've been acutely conscious on these tours that conversing with others for me is a bit like reading from a script - it's in my nature to plan everything before I say it as I don't appear to be attuned to what constitutes a 'normal' conversation and must internally censor most things I say before I let them out. We chat amiably on and off as the day progresses.

There's not much to relate about a long van journey - although we travel a different route from our cycle up, it is a vastly different view anyway. Time floats by as does scenery. I recall little scraps: a small town, along side an open-cut coal mine atop a hill, bordered up and slowly rotting, mining technique 'progress' having rendered it obsolete; rolling country and far off peaks; wide rivers and 'moose' ponds; the gradual passage of time.

One thing uniquely memorable: in the afternoon we traverse a section of road which is piled either side with huge boulders, which tower over the road itself. This is the site of the 'Frank Slide' in Crowsnest Pass, Montana. The Wikipedia entry below relates full details. Suffice to say that in the early hours of April 23rd, 1903, a massive portion of Turtle Mountain collapsed due to coal mining operations weakening the site. 74 million tons of rock descended upon the town of Frank: in just over 40 seconds 70 of the 600 inhabitants were dead.

Wikipedia entry for Frank Slide

The 104 year old boulder slide looks pristine, with the larger rocks seeming as if they were exposed yesterday - when I find out the slide is so long past I'm amazed.

Here's a pic of what remains of Turtle Mountain - it's clear the volume of material displaced from the mountain was massive and the kinetic energy contained within that suspended rock almost unfathomably enormous: much of the falling rock was rendered into dust and pebbles.



We stop at a petrol station just past the site: Turtle Mountain lurks in the background. Emerged from the shop, purchased gum being chewed, I stand by the van and watch a man exit the same shop and climb into his pickup. Continuing to watch, I raise my hand in reaction: he is reversing straight into a car which has pulled up transversely a short distance behind him. Surely he's seen it? Crunch - hmmm, guess not! I'm guessing from the goings on the hit car is a rental - bummer for the trip. I don't go over as they seem to be working it out and I'm not sure what help I'd be given I'm going to be traveling half way around the world tomorrow!

Later in the afternoon, we cross the border back into the US, and once again the stark contrast between the two processes is apparent. The Canadian side is polite AND efficient; the US side is a study in militarism, attitude and officiousness. The process is symptomatic of all my experiences with US border controls: militaristic, ritualised, and absolutely intimidatory. This must be a policy determined from on-high: an entire organisation of people cannot be so purposefully negative in their dealings with visitors to their shores?

Sure, I can see the point of security. Fine, I can deal with the ritualised processes in the name of efficiency. That is all understandable and perfectly acceptable. But is it absolutely necessary to subject an entire array of world visitors to your shores to an atmosphere of intimidation and tension? The prevailing attitude from the 'mechanism' is mind-numbingly counter-productive: it creates tension, a tension in which people naturally sometimes display less-than-clear thinking, and it creates negativity. Is it going to deter anyone who genuinely means you harm?

The whole experience is a 180 degree turn around to the one I had with every American I had significant interactions with on tour; guides, tour members and citizens alike: to a person, they were all friendly, courteous, welcoming and interesting. The stark contrast is so ironic.

Ok - enough ranting!

Arriving at Grouse Mt Lodge, Whitefish, my elegant overnight stay, I say my goodbyes to the guides - they are off elsewhere in the vans. It's a bit sad, but I'm so glad to have met them and shared the trip with them - wonderful people and the best guides. I also say goodbye to the great couple of Danette and James - whilst they are staying at the Lodge as well, we go different ways early next day (I'm off to the airport at 4:00am!).

Belongings up in my room and bike packed away, I go for a wander around the place: it is lovely, and complete with golf course on its back doorstep. Pic of the front and sign below:



I chill out watching golfers smack their way along the nearest fairway before heading to the bar/restaurant. It's a large, high ceiling room with a nice open gas-log fire: excellent food and beer!

And then one of those little moments happens that confirms all the superbly positive opinions I carry about this tour, the Bicycle Adventures organisation, and the wonderful guides.

I'd noticed whilst packing my bike into its travel case that I'd left one of my wheel bags in the van's trailer. Bugga! Oh well, I figured it had done most of its job, and I wasn't going to worry about getting it back.

Partway through my meal (it is many hours after I am dropped at the place), I look up: there is Doug, standing at the entrance to the restaurant looking around, my wheel bag in his hand. He's taken the time to, 1. Bring the bag back to me, and 2. find out where I am and deliver it in person. I call him over, thank him gratefully and give him one last hug. I'm truly amazed! And yet, in reality there's no reason to be - that's been the way it was the whole way throughout my two tours: guides ready to do everything in order to make the trip a success for those under their care. That one act symbolises it all.

Thank you Bicycle Adventures.

Thank you guides Marty and Ric (Tour 1), and Alisa, Brandon and Doug (Tour 2).

Thank you every one of my fellow tour members, lovely people one and all.

Thank you the Canadian Gulf Islands, Alberta and Montana!

It's been one hell of a ride!

Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 8.

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.

Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 7.

Day 7 of the tour, and Jacob and I are dawdling today (likely my fault as the movie I insisted on watching didn't finish 'til 12:00am!).

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.

Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 6.

Awake for Day 6 and my legs are killing me: all that hiking the previous day has used muscles cycling doesn't. Popping and snapping out of bed like some man made of dry twigs, I dress and crawl my way to brekky - hopefully food will (somehow?) make a difference. Well, if it doesn't, at least the first 4 km is all downhill to Hwy 1, past the Lake Louise town centre (I'm hoping I pass cab-man going uphill so I can yell out "like, later dude!").

Post obligatory bike check and food acquisition, I sling my leg over my bike to the sound of ripping tendons, and slowly inch out of the parking lot. It's a minimum 86km day today with rolling roads and some notable hills - hmmm! Less slowly, a bunch of us assault the steepish downhill - the juices are starting to flow once more!

We ride along the major Hwy 1 for a short distance (thankfully it has a wide shoulder) until we hit Hwy 93 turning off to our tour's ultimate end destination of Jasper. My technique of forgoing route notes is vindicated - see, the road is straight thru' to Jasper! Just into the Hwy there apparently (according to my route notes I kept) is a Park check station. I must have checked it was there (yep - tick!) and then it's onward and upward (well, upward and downward and repeat many times).

I am riding with David and as the ride goes by, it becomes apparent this is a good pairing: we chat, we have a great pace, and best of all he tows me up rises and I graciously let him follow me down declines! In all honesty, we are pretty well matched cycling wise: we have about the same endurance, speed, and the roads we travel on aren't inclined enough that his better climbing ability completely breaks our paceline. On the several hills that do get me pushing into the red, I simply shut up and keep grinding it out as David kindly slows up to keep pace, and then take a breather downhill. My superior weight and higher gearing on my bike means I can still pace him well down hills so that he gets a tow and I get a rest :) - perfect. Seriously, David, if you get to read this, thanks for this and the next day's rides - they were a joy and what riding hard but precisely is all about.

The Parkway is a rolling, scenic, generally smooth road, although with slightly annoying tram-lined shoulders at times - we miss this by riding on the road itself and keeping an eye out for cars coming up on us from behind. It travels thru' picturesque mountainous areas. David and I are pretty much into the groove, humming along at a near 35km/h average, heads down with the occasional peak up to admire the scenery, so we can't say we absorb all the views. Why fly half way around the world to ride a road and miss the scenery? Because: 1. there is so much scenery here that you'll always miss some of it: 2. it's a cycling holiday, and sometimes the joy of cycling like this is the goal in itself.

The Bicycle Adventures Glacier, Banff, Jasper is one you should do twice: once head down, bum up at speed for the sheer joy of cycling hard along great roads thru momentarily caught magnificent scenery; and once heads up, camera in hand, stopping at every opportunity and drinking it all in. In all honesty, even if I did this holiday again (which is very likely) I'd still take the opportunity to charge along with like minded riders at times during the tour: cycling is its own reward at such times.

Just to prove David and I did poke the heads up once in a while, below are some photos of attractions along the road to our lunch stop of Num-Ti-Jah Lodge on Bow Lake.





The first pic is of Crowfoot Glacier - so called because, well guess! The lower talon has melted right back (a sad theme for all Glaciers we visited) but the basic shape is still evident. There's a pullout by the side of the road which has an info board (including a cute little hand-powered announcer box: whiz the handle and you get info about the Glacier played back in English, German and Japanese!) detailing aspects of the glacier and its gradual shrinking. The pullout was well populated with cars and tour buses including one filled with Japanese tourists. Their group discipline was admirably evident - several of them attempted to throw themselves in front of my bike on both my arrival and my departure from the site! Maybe tour by bus was as shit-boring as it looked?

In what seemed like no time flat, David and I had zoomed past Bow Lake and arrived at the far entrance to Num-Ti-Jah Lodge parking area site for lunch. A great morning's ride! It seemed as if others were zooming as well, as in short order all of our group arrived in time to demand feeding.

Some of us wandered down to the lake and sat down on its shores across from Bow Glacier - pic below:



The lake was cold but nice, and I plopped my feet into the shallow water at the edge. Unlike most other glacier fed lakes we'd seen, Bow was crystal clear and I soon had a view of little fishes gathering around my toes pecking at them: they hunt big game these little fish! Stephen and Jabe attempted to explain the US voting system to me after my enquiry, but I'm afraid their pupil was a bit thick to comprehend!

Our pecking of our own food became a priority and as usual, lunch here didn't disappoint, a fact not lost on me as I was ravenous after the early morning dash of 43km with David.

Post lunch, a Brandon-led route update was continuously sabotaged by a bird that persisted in parking in a tree above his head and shrieking at him. Ominous signs dude!

Post lunch and more of the same: great road, beautiful scenery and fantastic riding - man, this was getting boring!

David and I continued on our merry way steamrolling along, although we did the tourist bit and stopped at beautiful Lake Peyto Lookout. The lookout gives an awe inspiring view down to gorgeous milky-torquoise-blue Lake Peyto below - see the pic. Jabe and Julie rolled in for a look as well whilst we were there - one of them (apologies for not recalling) took the pic below of myself and David at the lookout.




More road, more storming along, and Mistaya Canyon Pullout soon rolled into view. The canyon is narrowly carved by the river into the rock - how narrowly is shown below:



The falls at its head are nice viewing and, whilst not high, large volumes of water go over. As the group arrived, they migrated to the waters ahead of the falls: Polar Bear 'Weenie' Doug had indicated that swimming was possible there. Waiting for everyone, people including myself, Bonnie and Jabe resorted to the time-honoured task of Inukshuk building. Mine was overly grandiose, Jabe's was design impressive and Bonnie's was a case of over-reaching: it plunged to water mid-build. The lady aimed high!

After that it was another typical time passer: stone skipping. Given the fast flowing and rather lumpy surface wasn't conducive to either skipping or directional control, many stones sank whilst others whistled out in all curious directions.

'Weenie' Doug (his Polar Bear mystique well and truly shattered for me by his girly-like 'count-to-20' plea at Lake Louise) arrived and the group gathered to watch him dive into the bearably cold but fairly turbulent (and heading rapidly towards the Falls) water. Finding a re-circulating pool he dove in to impressed cheers (bah - I know better but OK, points there). Soon, it was all hands on deck, or rather overboard, as we all went in. Somewhere out there, ppl have photos of the group dunk at the end - I'd really love one of these please! Someone had to take this photo, so we didn't all go in, but the person shall remain nameless: just look for someone who has a brain in their head (obviously this rules me out - I went in and stayed in: it was lovely).

Out and dried by the warming sun in blue skies (I flopped on the warm rocks like a fat seal to dry my cycling shorts) we gradually made our way back to our bikes for the short blat into The Crossing Resort. David and I decided to do the extra ride - a right turn just before the Resort and an out-and-back along a nice road as far as you wished. We went out for about 16 kms, keeping up the pace of the day and just enjoying it: just after we passed Mark and Stuart on their way back (most likely returning from the next province - they cycled in their sleep) we wished to turn back.

And so it was, after an approximately 120km day, David and I rolled into the Resort, rolled around for another 5 minutes trying to see where the hell we were meant to go and then, having located the van, went off for our keys/room mates with keys. A fantastic days ride with a great partner over - thanks David!

Arrived at my room to find Jacob ensconced and - watching TV! Wow - what was this invention? Engrossed, we sat watching a re-run of Law and Order I'd seen about a decade ago in Oz, and then showered ready for the late afternoon drinks and nibbles in a Gazebo out the back of the place.

In the Gazebo with a drink in hand, I relaxed and, lying back, stretched out on a railing with my feet resting against an upright. I fell into a bit of a trance: the conversation in the background, the warm sun, the drink, the feeling of camaraderie, and the thoughts about the great day's happenings and the superlative ride filled my mind. I was in my own head but not apart from the group: I was at peace - I'd discovered on this tour the pure joy of cycling with others ready to push it and run with it, and that realisation caught me now .

After dinner at the Resort, Jacob and I headed back and continued to stare at the TV. The movie 'Copycat' came on, with the yummy Sigourney Weaver and the also yummmy Holly Hunter. As time passed, Jacob's fascination waned: sorry "little dude" but I'm hanging in until the end!

The morning will bring Day 7, with more great riding, the steepest longer climb (14 km) of the tour, walking on a glacier and the sobering evidence of their shrinking, a long, long fast descent where 80km/h is tantalizingly close but not broken, a visit to more falls, and a lovely barbeque and after dinner talk from a Park Warden.

Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 3.

Woke bright and early and feeling none the worse for wear after the ascent and later struggle-against-headwinds of yesterday. It was surprisingly warm during the night (maybe the hotel brochure boasts about no insulation and no double glazed windows actually had something to them?) and sticking my head outside the door revealed a mild and still mostly blue-skied day - looking good!

7:00am breakfast followed by a quick portage of the bags down to the loading zone for the guides to load into the van. I'm not sure how they did this everyday whilst not completely losing their sanity? Mind you, some may argue that they were completely insane to do it in the first place, but as usual they were there, prepared and cheerful.

Today we were to head towards Waterton Lakes and the Prince of Wales Hotel via the Chief Mountain International Highway. Hmmm - 'Mountain International'? Yes - we climb more mountains and we cross the border into Canada. Passport at the ready, and having memorised the simple route guide for the day, I proceeded to set forth - getting as far as my bike propped up against a wall of the hotel and being blocked in by a gazillion others! 5 years later, I finally manage to liberate the beast, check tyre pressure (no more tyre issues since the multiple blow out day in Tour 1), fill my bidons and hit the road just when everyone else was getting into the Prince of Wales 82km away!

Not that dramatic really, but it was the reason I missed the excitement on the road just out from the hotel - Bears!

Apparently a few of the riders had seen both a brown bear and a black bear on the side of a peak quite close to the road - wow! Upon arriving on the scene, a few tour members were still checking out the creatures. Not sure why - by this time the beasts had shuffled up the mountain: I couldn't see the brown bear at all (although ppl kept pointing at it and saying "there it is!"), and the black bear was a mere fly-speck on the distant horizon as he crossed the Rockies whilst giving us the finger. Pfftttt - big deal!

Jabe was one of these members, so after he finished pretending to see the things, he and I pedalled off for a nice two man paceline toward the Canadian border. The roads of yesterday (the first part of the journey was retraced) were far nicer than before: a slight tailwind and downhill meant we were humming along. To our own close bear encounter!

It was over in seconds but I still carry the mental impression to this day: Jabe in front, me close behind, both of us going fast on a slightly curving slightly downhill section of road. From left to right straight across the road runs a black bear, body pointed toward the bushes he's heading to but head oriented 90 degrees straight toward us. He looks panicked - I think my eyeballs popped out. Not really sure how close he was, but I can distinctly recall his two ears, like some teddy bears, popped up off his head, a short stubby tail, and the body of a teenage sized bear. I'm pretty sure if we had arrived 10 seconds earlier at that piece of road we might have had a VERY close encounter of the collision kind!

I kept pedalling sort of, but I was a bit stunned and drifted off Jabe's tail into the center of the road before coming to, riding back up to him and offered up a poetic insight into my amazement - I think I said "Wow"! Lame, but "wow" said it all.

Moving on, Jabe and I ate up the miles to the base of a steepish but short hill on Chief Mountain International Highway. Well, it looked short - doesn't it end just round that bend? I took off like a scalded cat, determined to beat Jabe up one stinking hill! I did beat him up that one - unfortunately the same one continued at the top of the bend and as per usual, Jabe floated past me whilst I ground up at my glacial rate (it appears to indicate on the guide notes that the hill is 8km on the map but it wasn't that anything like that as I recall - 4km maybe?). At the top, the van had stopped - this was a collection point for some refreshments before a downhill and the run into the US/Canada border. I decided to go down the hill partway again - about half, and then edged up it once more. It's funny - climbing the hills wasn't a high, but finishing them was, and as I got acclimated I looked forward to them more: well maybe not so much them, but their completion and the satisfaction thereof.

Setting off from the stop point, we rode on towards our destiny. As we were approaching the US/Canada border, myself and other riders arrived and collected at a spot just shy of the border itself so we could all get our stories straight about why we were hauling huge quantities of dr... eerrmm, A. why we wanted to leave such a wonderful place like the US to go to such a forsaken hell-hole like Canada (this is the story for the US side) and B. Why the hell Canadian officials should let a bunch of smelly cyclists, possibly carting vast quantities of dr... from the Wild West which is Montana into their lovely country (the Canadian side cover).

Amassing behind the two vans, we approached the US border with trepidation: what horrors awaited us inside that anonymous building with the huge empty cardboard cartons, formerly containing latex gloves, stacked outside? (Pics of building-of-horrors and the US side of the border below. I'm not sure if it's even legal to show the pic of the building but what can they do now - oh, hang on there's the doorbell...):




Well, no horrors: a guy walked out of the place, had a brief chat with guide Brandon of which I only managed to catch the last words (something about "good riddance...") and then we tottered along behind the vans as we entered the no man's land between the two countries.

As we slowly cycled the 200 odd meters to the Canadian side, someone remarked that they'd heard that technically because this was no man's land there were no laws, and suggested we could do pretty much anything we liked - very quickly their suggestion was NOT taken up. I've been on the former East/West German border at a forest setting similar to this - it felt the same here: eerily menacing!

Lining up to go thru' in threes (don't ask me?), a funny thing happened. After the accidents of days 1 and 2, most of us had been hinting at the meme about such things happening in threes, and hoping that the third one was a real non-event. And so it was...one of the sons of Ken (sorry I can't recall whether it was Kevin or Scott), the chap who'd had the unfortunate faceplant, trundled up to the back of the line, forgot to unclip his pedals and gracefully executed the slow-motion sideways plummet-to-earth that all of us who ride clipless have experienced at least once. My admiration was great - talk about 'taking one' for the team! Turns out that was the last incident of the tour!

By now, my confidence was sky-high: surely, being the only member of the great Commonwealth of which Australia and Canada were the two powerhouses (the UK doesn't qualify as a powerhouse, well not athletically speaking which is what counts!), I'd get to ride thru' here unquestioned and welcomed, whilst my fellow tour members (all citizens of the large land mass below Canada) would be ruthlessly interrogated about their nefarious intentions in this great and sweeping land?

Not so - whilst I got a free pass, so did everyone: in threes we scooted up to the border window where a gorgeous young lady asked us for passports, shot a few questions about trip purpose, drugs carriage, etc of us and then waved us on our way with a beaming, beauty-contest-winning smile. Man, I was sort of wishing I'd get frisked! The process was so innocuous that Stuart rode thru', after presenting and receiving his passport, without answering the questions and we had to call him back!

Now that I was in the place, I was happy to stay, and after cheerfully getting my pic taken at the much nicer Canadian Border sign (see below - my bike is holding me up), we headed off for the short jaunt to our lunch spot at Belly River.



After lunch (I took some of THE most uninspired pics ever here, and in fact didn't even get a pic of the river! - it's one of those lovely, many streams, trout-fishing style ones), we again set off for the 27km ride to the Prince of Wales Hotel overlooking Waterton Lakes. More undulating roads, but not too serious and I was tootling along by myself. Having taken off early after lunch, I was trailblazing, and soon arrived at the entrance to Waterton Lakes National Park. The ranger, another lovely lady (good strategy Canada!) let me straight thru' after she heard my charming Australian accent, and I scooted into the hotel soon after, having seen its dominating presence on the rise for some distance before.

Here I met the van, Alisa and Jacob (not riding again - you shall suffer for this son!) - from my sly "Hello" to Alisa and her surprised "Oh hello" back, I could tell I had impressed her with my light-speed and grand arrival. Smiling (like an assassin) she suggested that as I was early I should take the optional ride out to Lake Cameron and back, a mere 32km. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I later learned that the optional ride is an 'Expert' optional ride, mainly because it was pretty much uphill all the way out, and started with a hill of 3.2km which most vehicles got towed up! My callous acts of the first day, where I taunted her by asking an oft-repeated question once more in order to assess her mental strength, had come back to haunt me.

I recall a bit about the ride: the first 3.2km of it standing out of the saddle, mashing the pedals at some ridiculously slow rate just to haul myself over it, the never ending rolling hills to the lake, Jabe (bloody Jabe - the guy is a mountain goat) rolling up behind me with a short while to go, breezily saying "Hi", and then (nicely) encouraging me to slog on with him, which I mostly managed to do. Of the lake I know nothing - it was a freakin' lake! I do recall the ride back - generally downhill, much easier, faster, and fanging down that bugger of a short hill I'd earlier climbed passing a truck around some switchbacks: kick arse! If it hadn't been for this last bit of joy, the terrible revenge I had been brewing in my mind for Alisa would have come to fruition.

Back at the hotel, I grabbed a beer from Alisa (she coyly acted as if no terrible event had even taken place!) and wandered over to where Steve had his tandem up on the front carry bar of the van, torturing it in the name of repairing something or other. Figuring I knew as little as he, we both started reeking havoc on the poor beast - son Jacob got bored of critiquing us and wandered off after a while. Several hours later we proclaimed ourselves to be of the genius category having fixed something (the bike shop next day charged with re-fixing it were grateful I'm sure).

Here's some pics of the Prince of Wales Hotel to break the boredom of my ranting:




A nice shower later, a quick cruise around the interior and exterior of the hotel (when I took pics including those above), and some browsing of employees and various things stuck on walls led me to the opinion that the Prince of Wales was a magnificently situated, sturdily constructed, typically styled Lodge type accommodation with nice rooms, huge foyer, big dining areas, and lots of stuff relating to a Prince of Wales (pics, busts, staff wearing kilts etc etc). I never did quite understand whether or not any of the royal buggers had actually been, stayed or even had a remote flicker of a thought about the place. Meh - an historian I'm not!

The evening meal was had at a nice place called (errmm - I don't remember: great travel write-up hey!) in Waterton itself, on the edge of Waterton Lakes. Food was very nice and company was again excellent. Danette, a lovely bubbly lady on tour with her partner James, was keeping a whole table at attention with her conversation. James, a quieter, strong chap and another of the power riders on tour seemed her perfect foil, and to me looked like a young Christopher Walken: I mentioned this later and he didn't seem overly impressed? Hmmm, James clearly is happy with himself - I'd kill to resemble Walken!

Back at the hotel, I again razzed my room mate Jacob about his non-riding slackness - maybe he was the smart one, as I was the one rubbing the gel bought in Tour 1 on my muscles and sitting slightly gingerly on my sore arse! He is actually very smart - he was having issues about which college to attend the next year and I'm thinking, wow, he gets to choose? A great kid, and excellent company as long as you can bear up under the strain of him frequently pointing out how wrong you are (and being correct!). I didn't have this issue - I simply did the expedient thing and threatened to beat him up if he pointed out my faults, which worked well! (To his mum Amy, this is simply an invention for dramatic sake and in no way a reflection of how I deal with teenagers - I normally drown them in the bath!)

So, off to sleep with the prospect of an upcoming morning van ride (to skip a bunch of glorious road), an afternoon ride in company with the charming Julie, a short little kicker hill to Deer Lodge, and a post-evening Polar Bear Club plunge into icy Lake Louise with the (yes Doug it must be said) less-than-enthusiastic so called champion of the frigid dip! Day 4 next.

Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper - Day 1.

Day 1 of the tour started bright and early - VERY bright and early. I'd set my room alarm for 7:00am, time enough for a quick breakfast, final pack and to get the stuff down to the entry for pickup by the tour van at 8:30. Waking to it's buzz, I slid out of bed, dressed ready for cycling, did the pack etc and went down to breakfast. Hmmm - breakfast not open yet: ok, wander out for a walk. The sky was blue but the air was very chilly and it didn't seem to be all that bright. And no people around? Back inside the lodge I plonked down in a lounge in the foyer and took stock. My eyes turned to the clock on the wall - 6:30am? Huh? Turns out my clock in my room was set one hour ahead!

Bleh! - still, breakfast was soon on and dispatched, I'd retrieved my stuff from the room and placed it ready for pickup, and browsing through the multitude of dog-showing books (hmmm, I thought this was a ski lodge?) passed the time.

Hanging around outside, a familiar silver van piled with bikes made its way around the curve of the mountain road toward me - Bicycle Adventures obviously got a good deal on a multitude of these things. Arriving at the entrance, a guide identifying himself as Doug greeted me. After a quick chat, I asked him if he knew Marty (our guide on Tour 1) to which he replied yes. Passing on a message for Marty, I informed Doug he sucked. Doug looked at me and informed me that he didn't know Marty all that well, but Marty did know another guide on this tour, Brandon, very well and he suspected I was meant to tell Brandon he sucked! Bluffing it, I told Doug that he likely sucked anyway, to which he responded with a laugh and a vicious kick to my groin. Well, he did laugh, and from there on in, he and I got on excellently: our Polar Bear Club escapade and his towing me around Alberta for a day will be detailed later. Suffice to say, Doug was a total character and a great guy.

As Doug was sticking my stuff into the van and my bike on top, several people wandered out from Kandahar, two of them wheeling a tandem. They turned out to be Steve and Amy, and their son Jacob, all taking the tour. They'd also stayed the night at the Lodge, but we hadn't seen each other. We made our introductions and they appeared to be well informed about me "the Australian". They asked me where my other head was, to which I replied like all humans I know, Australians only had one! (I jest). I admired their tandem and admired even more the fact they planned to scale mountains with it (which they did, and admirably too).

Piled into the van for the trip to Grouse Mountain Lodge, our official tour start point and the place where the majority of the group were staying. On the way I got the chilling news - Jacob, the teenage son, was to be my roomate. The horror! After my being spoilt on the first tour with my own rooms, the prospect of sharing filled me with dread, and with a teenager what's more! There was no god! As it turned out, Jacob turned out to be a great person, friendly, bright, fun and always eager to tell you you sucked! Steve and Amy were great ppl and excellent parents. I'm sure Amy feared for her son's sanity, being stuck with an Aussie, but I'm sure I put her fears to rest over the tour: I definitely only tweaked his sanity a little!

The entire group coming together at Grouse Mountain Lodge was the usual hectic process of name revealing and forgetting, lots of new faces (it was an 18 person tour), bikes going everywhere, and general mayhem. Alisa, our third and female guide, a real sweety (and a honey - grrrr), must have got asked the same questions about a million times: after witnessing her deal with an oft-repeated one, I cruelly asked it again seconds later just to see the reaction. Her mouth smiled but her eyes glistened with tears of frustration, followed by a flicker of satisfaction as she contemplated revenge further down the track! I also got to meet Brandon and finally was able to tell the correct guide 'you suck!'. Brandon, another great character, appeared unphased - I'm not sure what Marty is in for!

What seemed like eons later, following briefings, ride notes, tour intros etc etc, we were finally liberated and sent on our way for the mornings 34km ride thru' Whitefish central and Northern Montana country to Blankenship Bridge. Once again, I resolved to foresake the handlebar bags and displayed tour notes and rely on my inate powerful sense of direction. At least here it was pretty difficult to get lost - after following a pack of people thru' the winding town route, it was basically one road to the bridge: the only two turns I managed to negotiate in the right direction.

My first tour's cycling was paying dividends: along the rolling roads thru' picturesque and mostly flat farmland and forest I was breezing along, and feeling at one with the bike - a feeling that stayed with me almost the entire trip aside from one diabolical session I will recount later. It was a great day - blue sky, crisp but warming, and perfect for riding. Lovely! I don't recall whom I met/passed on the road very well during this ride - I just remember feeling overwhelmingly glad to be riding right there and right then.

Almost too soon, Blankenship Bridge appeared. Off to its left was our first lunch stop of the tour, a nice little drive-off area overlooking the river. Also, it had a five star toilet - a bonus we would later come to appreciate as most outside conveniences were the classic drop-dunnies: large pits in the ground. The more stars the better, the less look out! Several of these facilities we encountered on tour were real retch inducing!

Arriving before the van, I and several others took the opportunity to wander around taking photos. Jabe, a lean fit looking guy around my age and as I later found out, a superb rider, clambered up to the bridge whilst his partner Julie and I, also an excellent rider and a lovely lady, had a small chat. I later came to really admire and appreciate these two ppl - real gems. I also loved Jabe's bike, a classic older Merlin (which instantly means something to anyone who appreciates bikes).

Then I harnessed my totally lame skills and proceeded to photograph everything around the general area, but in a way which made it look entirely identical and of no intrinsic eyeball value! It's a skill! Below is one of my less inept captures:



I then wandered down over the steepish bank to the water's edge to test out the theory of whether water in rivers originating from snow covered peaks was cold. Strangely enough - it was! However I also found out that no matter how cold, it always felt great on feet liberated from cycle shoes trapped on pedals for hours!

Soon after the van arrived, with food and some unwanted info. One of the group (Ken, a dad touring with his two grown sons Kevin and Scott) had been involved in a bingle, and had done a bit of a face-plant on the road. A short doctors visit and a day later, with some facial scrapes and some dental re-arrangement, Ken hit the tour again and hit the bikes soon after. Wow - whay a guy! He and his sons went on to thoroughly enjoy the rest of the trip, and were a great addition to the party. I was struck particularly at the obvious respect and friendship these three had for each other - a real family group.

Lunch was a replica of those on tour 1; delicious, plentiful and allowing the personal decision of whether to dine on all that is good for you or pig out on masses of 'naughty' food. I'd learned in the first tour that a balance was best, but what I needed to come to realise was that on these tours covering more kms per day, lunch intake shouldn't be excessive i.e. enough to immediately send you into a deep trance.

Post-lunch, we took a trance-deepening van trip to the start of our next ride of the day (the road after the bridge was unpaved for some distance hence the need for vanning). The drive took us back to paved road, and rolling hilly terrain, past blue lakes and dense forests. Which we kept passing. Why the hell weren't we riding these beautiful roads? I was just about to raise this point when all became clear: we stopped, bundled out, and were told we were to ride back along these same roads - excellent! 34kms back to our digs for the night, Lake McDonald Lodge via Agpar on Lake McDonald.

As ppl headed off, I had to answer the call of nature and thus visited the 'Green Door'. Scooting down an embankment to the privacy of bushy cover, I kept scooting and ended up embedded in said bush, in which prickly plants therein proceeded to ravage me. Ow! Luckily this occurred prior to actually 'unpacking'. I deemed privacy to be less of a concern from there on.

The ride back to Agpar was once again a joy - floating above the tarmac at speed and taking in the sites was soothing mentally and physically and the kms flew by. The road dipped and climbed through the forest - nothing too strenuous - and the warm air and sun added to the joy.

Along the way I saw a deer and, even tho' I had seen approximately 5 thousand of them by this stage, I had to stop and take a pic. Carefully stalking nearer down the slight bank I got to within about 3 meters of the unsuspecting creature. The deer was in a conspiracy with nature - as I raised my camera I fell flat on my arse for the second time that day! Hastily rising, I looked around and noted with joy that my drunken-guy fall had gone unnoticed with none of my fellow riders except Jabe in sight, and he'd obviously seen so many deer his visual system merely ignored them and he was looking the other way. Even the deer didn't move a millimeter or even raise it's head! Clearly ppl trying to photograph it fell flat on their arses all the time.

Getting back into the groove, I grooved all the way back to Agpar, our turning-off point, and kept grooving. Missed another turn! It became clear that, at least in this part of Montana and later Canada, road directions didn't generally forewarn you - if a turn sign was there it meant turn then. Back in Australia, drivers are so dumb that we must be told that we will soon be turning, and a pre-turn warning sign warns us about the turn sign coming up. Here you were assumed to be capable.

Arriving at Agpar minutes later (it was a small detour past for me) we slowly congregated as ppl came in from the ride, awaiting final instructions about the last few kms to our place for the night, Lake McDonald Lodge. I took more crappy photos of the lake - well it's just a big lot of water really! Pic below attests to this (Jabe is in there for scale - he is small, it is large):



In the background distance of the pic lurks the land of the Going-to-the-Sun Rd and the pass we must scale tomorrow.

The reason for our congregating became clear - we had to cross a checkpoint into Glacier Park en masse (it costs but it's pre-paid by BA). Having been allowed thru' we continued on the short cycle to Lake McDonald Lodge, dinner, and our rooms for the night.

I don't recall a whole lot about the lodge, but the accommodation was separate little shacks, two units to a shack, lined up and facing, thru' trees, the Lake shore. For some reason it reminded me of the school holiday camp in the episode of the Simpsons, Camp Krusty? Nice enough tho', and there were no occupant riots. After 'squaring things away' (the military theme seems apt) Jacob and I wandered down to the rocky shore of the lake and sat down, me dipping my toes in the somewhat chilly water. Tour guide Brandon soon appeared and talk turned to the Polar Bear Club, the mythical Druid-like ensemble that one could join if one plunged into various bodies of icy water each day (bar one - a rest day) of the tour. So, he and I plunged in. Once in, it was actually very nice - staying close to shore however was preferable as there was a significant temperature gradient which quickly approached frozen at greater depths. Had a nice 15 min swim and then headed back to the cabin for a shower and prep for the evening meal.

Which I am sure was lovely but I don't remember a thing about it! *shrug*. Perhaps the stinging plants I'd encountered earlier had rendered me mindless? And so...

Day 2 approaches: 34kms of the Going-to-the-Sun Rd climb, including 19.5km at 6% gradient, 3840ft of climbing vs my 92kg, plus bike, and a nowhere near low enough gear of 39/23: who will win?