The uncertainty induced by unknowns stirs up strong emotions, especially when you’re tired. Temps are smoldering across North America. Wildfires are burning. Air quality deteriorating. We looked at a trans-Canada crossing, but towns quickly became names on a map without activities or current events written down in our notebook of possibilities. We thought about revisiting Vancouver and the Olympic peninsula and the Oregon and California coasts. Beautiful, but darn, does that seem far. What about picking up the badges for Voyagers and Isle Royale National Parks, dropping down to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland cutting through mountains of West Virginia? Suffering with a severe case of travel fatigue from constant navigation, prolonged sitting and sleep disruption caused by 24 hours of midnight sun makes it hard to get behind a follow-on adventure. So for those reasons, we’re out. We are retreating from too many unknowns and embracing the familiar.
The grueling back mountain roads on our way North set us up for a loop to the east on the easy Canadian heartland roads going south. We’re fans of a good loop as long as we don’t get stuck in it. This southern route took us through the metropolis of Grand Prairie for $1.66L gas fill and 2 Yeti tumblers ice fills at COSTCO! Costco is like being home. The giant bags of Munchies, the 10 can pack of tuna, the pop-up gnocchi sale … THE SAMPLES! Costco is predictable, comforting … familiar. A rotating crop of consumables, a packed parking lot, members pushing piled high carts and a line for discounted gas. We hated to leave, but Jasper was still 200 miles away, and somewhere FAR beyond that we had our own COSTCO to sample.
Taking turns at the wheel, Sheri navigated while Eric slept and Sheri called the crossword clues while Eric multitasked, driving while sharpening his word association skills. Then BAM! It was like a sniper hit us with a long range bullet. And there it was. The rosetta from a stone. Thankfully not in our sightline, but also not on our souvenir list. The last time a stone encountered our windshield was the day we bought the truck. It was a knick, Safelight repaired. This is going to be Safelight replaced. Hopefully the b-train 32 wheeler rigs that are so common on Canadian roads don’t Robin Hood another rock in the exact same spot, and the rose does not bloom any further until we reach Florida.
Flashback to one month ago, we took 2 nights in a half empty, rain and cloud covered Whistler’s Campground. Peaks disappeared into threatening storm clouds. We huddled by a fire. Most of our touring time was spent looking at the aftermath of the wildfire that took out half the town and 80,000 acres of forest. The rest was spent on laundry, groceries, library and finding art. Jumping back into Jasper in a flashforward, we scored the very last available of 700 sites in Whistler.
Entering from the east side of the park we were greeted by steel blue skies over nuclear blue lakes, towering green mountains and purple roadside wildflowers. We maneuvered around a pack of traffic stopping sheep and dozens of beachgoers wading in the shallow emerald green waters of Jasper Lake. Rivers of Gatorade Glacier Freeze spilled down canyons. Ready to rally!
After a gnocchi and squash dinner, evening temps sunk into the low 60s, the sun actually set at 10 pm, and we retired with a plan of attack for the high value Jasper attractions. And then we woke up. Sunny skies gave way to SMEAT – smoke and heat. Blue skies and lakes turned gray. Nearby mountains were hazy outlines. The air was so still the SMEAT crawled up your nose. A western wind had wrapped Jasper in evidence of the burning Boreal forests to the east. We retreated to the familiar; laundry, groceries, and library until we overdosed on Jasper’s cuteness and took off for the hills.
Perched in the hills, Lake Maligne is to Jasper what Lake Louise is to Banff. There is a single scenic road out and back that runs alongside rushing streams and calm lakes lined with coniferous evergreens. You conga with the buses, RVs and SUVs, breaking for wildlife sightings and turnouts for pictures of landscapes the iPhone cannot capture. Crowds meander along the shore, through the cafeteria, among the canoes for rent, queue in the Waffle Stop, and board one of six rotating lake ferries. Ironically, with its picturesque south shore, nothing could be less malign than Lake Maligne. We imagine Father Pierre-Jean De Smet who named it was just having one of those days.
The forty minute commute to Lake Maligne works to make you pot-committed to doing something, anything upon arrival, in addition to just looking at a lake. Having eaten in town, and with all the ferries unbelievably sold out, we chose to hike the 3 km perimeter trail. Signs warned to not get too close to the moose. The closest we came was a Dad embarrassing his kids making loud moose calling sounds. We did find the Canada Parks red Adirondack chairs but a couple apparently had them reserved for three days and had them saved, middle school style, with their water bottles and giant backpacks until their return.
A month earlier, Jasper National Park had a decent crowd, but nothing like this. Boat rides – sold out. Canoes – get in line. Even the cafeteria was running low on poutine, heaven forbid. When we inevitably returned to the truck, a line of incoming vehicles followed us to grab the valuable and rare parking spot. National Parks on both sides of the Canadian border are the new theme parks with crowd size to match. Could the Dempster be next?
The weekend is here and we are at the top of the Icefields Parkway. A month ago we were in hats and gloves when the Ice Princess was having a mood. Headed toward sold-out Banff, we wonder where we will sleep. We wonder if we’ll see smoked ice or if the winds will pick up and sweep it away. There’s a pair of slippers Sheri’s been regretting not buying at a roadside store near Waterton Lakes. There is a road to the sun in Glacier that is no longer closed for snow. It’s our last hurrah in the northern Rockies, smoke, temps, crowds and all.
