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Published: October 26th 2012
Not so turbulent waters
The Sunwapta River defying it's nameHaving arrived back in Lake Louise after three days of hiking in Yoho NP on a sunday evening, I was due to set out on my five-day cycling trip from Lake Louise to Jasper along the famed Icefields Parkway the following morning. So this was it: judgment day. The reason I had gone through the logistical nightmare of bringing my nondescript hybrid bicycle with me from the highlands of Scotland to the Rocky Mountains of Canada; and, to a lesser extent, the reason I had spent two-and-a-half weeks cycling around the Netherlands before coming to Canada, in preparation for my upcoming expedition.
The plan had come together so simply. Having decided months ago that I wanted to see as much as possible of the awe-inspiring scenery between Lake Louise and Jasper, but with no towns from which to base myself; no motorized transport of my own with which to see it; and no desire to squeeze 230kms of wonderous mountain countryside into a four-hour bus ride; I had been set to abandon this part of my trip, until I discovered that Hostelling International operate a series of rustic 'wilderness hostels' at roughly 60km intervals along the road - a perfect
Long road ahead
Wildflowers adding a splash of colour to the Icefields Parkway half-day's cycling between each one.
But with no towns or settlements anywhere along the road - aside from the blink-and-you'll-miss-it junction of Saskatchewan River Crossing - from which to buy provisions, I would have to stock up in Lake Louise and bring enough food with me to last the whole five days. Further complicating matters was the simple fact that my bicycle was not set up for cycle touring - ie I had no racks, panniers, or any other such accessories that are generally considered to be necessary (if not indispensible) for carrying gear and food on multi-day bicycle rides.
These rather glaring shortcomings had not really been an issue in the Netherlands, where I was staying in towns or cities every night - and therefore had no need to carry food at any point - and was content to carry all of my clothes in a small backpack, with anything else being thrown into a sturdy plastic bag and flung over the handlebars... a tactic that had worked reasonably well, aside from the tendency for said plastic bag to act like a spinnaker in the unrelenting North Sea winds, making cycling in a straight line a near
Shelter from the storm
Mosquito Creek wilderness hostel impossibility for much of the trip!
But was I really going to attempt to cycle 460kms (for I wanted to cycle the road in BOTH directions) through some of the most mountainous countryside in North America, with five days worth of food dangling from my handlebars?!? To borrow my favourite French expression - pourquoi pas! (why not?) After all, what was the worst that could happen?!? Well, with no tools to speak of whatsoever other than a small pump, an allen key set and a rudimentary patch kit (ie no spare tyre tube, glue with which to affix the patches or any other repair tools), that was probably a question better left unanswered...
In the days and weeks to come, I would often have people look quizically upon my bicycle - complete with fully loaded grocery bags hanging from the handlebars - and inquire as to why I had chosen to undertake such an ambitious trip without first decking my bicycle out with racks and panniers (neither of which I had the time or money to invest in during my whirlwind travels of the previous two months), only to laugh off such questions with the tongue-in-cheek response of
Mountains and mosquitos
Crossing Mosquito Creek at the start of day two 'I pride myself on being ill-prepared'. That is not strictly true. What I pride myself on - in terms of my cycling adventures at least - is preparing myself as best I can with the limited time and funds that I have available to me, and then making the most of what I've got. In other words: I pride myself on being resourceful.
Perhaps my attitude could best be summed up by another phrase that I would come to utter on a pretty regular basis: 'I don't consider myself to be a cyclist - I'm just a backpacker who likes to pretend to be a cyclist whenever it suits me to do so'. Riding a bicycle can be enjoyable, but for purposes like this it is more of a means to an end; a way of getting me from point A to point B for the least amount of money, with the maximum amount of freedom, and at a much more leisurely and enjoyable pace (not to mention an infinitely more environmentally-conscious way) than any other form of transport. Other than walking, of course. And there was no way I was going to walk 230kms - much less 460kms
Reward for effort
View of Peyto Lake from near the summit of Bow Pass - through the Rocky Mountains. I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid!
And so it was that I set out from Lake Louise under mostly sunny skies on monday afternoon (23rd July), a couple of hours later than I had originally intended, but it no great hurry since I only had about 27kms to cover on the way to my first overnight stop. It wasn't long however before the weather started to close in, and the grey clouds that had been gathering on the British Columbian side of the Great Divide (in Yoho NP, where I had been less than twenty-four hours previous) started to make their way over the 'front ranges' and into Banff NP on the Albertan side of the border - putting me directly in the line of fire.
Naturally my immediate reaction was to pick up the pace, since I was determined to avoid getting wet so soon into my trip, and had no intention of putting on my wet weather gear either. Thankfully between stopping off at a couple of scenic viewpoints overlooking picturesque lakes along the way, I managed to make steady progress over the undulating terrain; but with the weather
getting increasingly threatening with every passing minute, it was with great relief that I rounded a turn in the road - just an hour-and-a-half after leaving Lake Louise - to find a road sign marking the location of my destination for the night: Mosquito Creek wilderness hostel.
My timing couldn't have been better - within twenty minutes of my arrival the heavens had opened; and my good fortune was exemplified by the arrival of a familiar face in the form of Michael (a true cycle tourist from San Francisco, who by pure coincidence I had been roommates with in Vancouver two weeks earlier; and who had cycled all the way up into the Rockies since then) no more than forty-five minutes after me, who was soaking wet from head to toe as he came to a screeching halt just outside the hostel during the worst of the deluge... while I was sitting comfortably in the dining room tucking into a hearty plateful of steaming hot pasta and sauce! So far, so good.
Tuesday started under cloudy skies, as I slowly but surely made my way past the stunningly beautiful sight of Bow Lake (with the receding, though still
Wild waters
Mistaya Canyon impressive, Crowfoot Glacier looming ominously above) up to the summit of Bow Pass - which at 2069 metres above sea level is the highest point along the Icefields Parkway, but which due to the moderate gradient on the approach to the pass from the south-east I was able to make it up and over without having to get off the bike and walk. And if ever there was ample reward for one's effort, it is here at the very crest of the pass - for just a short detour from the road lies the majestic Peyto Lake, with a viewpoint offering superlative views not only of the beautiful, milky turquoise-coloured expanse of water below but also the Mistaya River valley stretching off into the distance behind the lake... offering me a tantalising glimpse of the journey ahead.
Hopping back on my bicycle I was soon enjoying my first exhilirating downhill stretch, as I descended at near break-neck pace into the Mistaya River valley, before flattening out as I passed the gorgeous roadside Waterfowl Lakes, whose appearance was made all the more magical and mysterious by the low-lying cloud obscuring the upper slopes of the mountains on the opposite side
Valley views
View of the North Saskatchewan River valley from behind the hostel at Rampart Creek of the lakes. Further along the road I came to Mistaya Canyon, where the rushing waters of the Mistaya River have simultaneously gouged out and sanded down the rock, producing a spectacular slot canyon with remarkably smooth sides full of potholes through which the water courses it's way further down into the valley.
From there another full-speed descent eventually led me down to the Saskatchewan River bridge, where the North Saskatchewan River - after flowing down from the Columbia Icefield some forty kilometres ahead to the north-west - meets the Mistaya and Howse Rivers head-on, before taking a right-angle turn and heading off to the north-east to eventually make it's way into the Atlantic Ocean via Hudson Bay. Shortly after crossing the bridge, a junction between Highways 93 (the Icefields Parkway) and 11 (the David Thompson Highway) marks the location of the small 'resort' of Saskatchewan River Crossing, offering the only gas station, restaurant, motel and convenience store facilities between Lake Louise and Jasper.
After making a quick pit-stop to purchase a much needed packet of marshmallows (which I had considered to be a necessity for the trip, but not been able to find anywhere in Lake Louise)
Collision course
Approaching the Weeping Wall on the way towards Sunwapta Pass and briefly bumping into Michael again, I was soon back in the saddle and counting down the final few kilometres to my second overnight stop: Rampart Creek wilderness hostel. And after cycling 64kms - making it the longest, if not necessarily most arduous, day of my trip - what better way to relax and unwind than with a nice, hot sauna and a refreshing dip in the nearby creek?!? Okay, the less said about the near-hypothermia I suffered upon immersing myself in the admittedly-glacial meltwaters of the stream, the better; but at least the toasted marshmallows I shared around by the campfire that night hit the spot!
Day three started out gently enough, with the road following the North Saskatchewan River as it meandered slowly past me; but this was merely the calm before the storm. Shortly after passing the Weeping Wall - where a number of slender ribbons of water fall from a vertical cliff-face - I caught sight of a number of cars parked at a roadside viewpoint a couple of kilometres ahead of me... and a couple of hundred metres above me! And so the gruelling climb up to Sunwapta Pass began in earnest, as I
Valley deep; mountain high
Taking a break during the gruelling climb up to Sunwapta Pass slaved away as far as the Big Bend (where I was offered some succulent strawberries by a couple of older cyclists resting by the side of the road!) and then onwards and upwards to the viewpoint that I had glimpsed from below, only to hop back on the bicycle after stopping to take a couple of pictures and realize that my legs had well and truly had enough! Still, I had made it further than I thought I would be able to; and surely it couldn't be too much further to the top!?!
How wrong I was! For the best part of an hour I walked my bicycle uphill, occasionally hopping back on to pedal a few hundred metres when the road flattened out, only to then reach another climb and have to resort to walking again. Finally I crested what seemed like just another rise, only to spot a monument beside the road marking the summit of Sunwapta Pass, which also serves as the border between Banff National Park and Jasper National Park; as well as the watershed between the south-flowing Saskatchewan River valley (whose waters eventually reach the Atlantic Ocean) and the north-flowing Athabasca River valley (which
Rugged grandeur
Heading towards the Columbia Icefield after finally cresting Sunwapta Pass flows northwards towards the Arctic Ocean).
Having made it up and over Sunwapta Pass I was sure my hard work was done for the day, so after cruising downhill past the Columbia Icefield Centre - stopping off to get a close-up view of the tongue of the Athabasca Glacier along the way - and then following the languid upper stretches of the Sunwapta River through a dead-flat section of valley, I got a most unpleasant surprise when I rounded a bend in the road only to be faced with yet another steep uphill climb! To say that I was not amused at this point would be an understatement, and the next fifteen minutes were spent once again walking my bicycle uphill whilst cursing the person responsible for this seemingly unnecessary climb.
Thankfully though it would prove to be only a temporary obstacle, and before long I was pulling into my next overnight stop at the Beauty Creek wilderness hostel, just minutes after my roommates from the previous night, Rupert and Cindy, (a lovely older couple from the United States who are serious cycle tourists, and who - despite being at least twenty years older than me - had
Jagged ridge
The unmistakeable profile of the Endless Chain ridge no trouble cycling all the way up and over Sunwapta Pass!) had arrived. After filling up on pasta and sauce, I then went for a hike up through the nearby Beauty Creek gorge to Stanley Falls, which in keeping with the general theme of the day turned out to be a much more arduous climb than I had expected - though at least the views of the upper Sunwapta River valley from the top were impressive. After that it was back to the hostel for dinner (yep, more pasta and sauce) and a much needed full night's sleep. Three days down; two to go.
With most of the hard work and both mountain passes by now behind me, thursday brought a more relaxing day on the bicycle, as I followed the Sunwapta River down valley towards the unmistakable profile of the Endless Chain ridge. After briefly spying a grizzly bear from the side of the road near Jonas Creek, I was soon pulling into the carpark at the perfectly-named Sunwapta Falls (Sunwapta meaning 'turbulent wates' in the native language) where I was once again re-united with Rupert and Cindy, who kindly shared their coffee and cake with me! After
Raging torrent
Sunwapta Falls bidding them yet another fond farewell, I set off to check out the nearby Upper Falls - where the Sunwapta River splits in two around a small island, re-groups, and then plunges down through a ten-metre-wide, twenty-metre-high chasm - before following a hiking trail for twenty minutes further downstream to check out the Lower Falls.
With the Sunwapta River flowing into the Athabasca River shortly after it's tumultuous passage through Sunwapta Falls, it would be the Athabasca River that I would follow for the rest of my journey to Jasper - during which I spotted a black bear much closer to the road than the grizzly bear that I had seen from afar earlier in the day - though first I still had one more overnight stop to make at the Athabasca Falls wilderness hostel. Unfortunately my initial visit to the nearby falls was interrupted by a sudden downpour from above, so I headed back to the hostel to take advantage of the facilities (which unlike each of the other wilderness hostels I had stayed at actually had electricity rather than just propane power... though still no showers!) before returning to the falls towards the end of the day.
Nature in all it's glory
Athabasca Falls and Kerkeslin Mountain Only then did it occur to me just how fortunate I was to have the opportunity to spend a night in the wilderness - 30kms from the nearest settlement of any kind - yet just a stone's throw away from a wonderful natural attraction such as Athabasca Falls. For upon my return I was greeted by the sight of the entire Athabasca River - by now carrying an enormous voume of water - thundering down into a narrow gorge; with the imposing form of Kerkeslin Mountain - it's forested lower slopes contrasting perfectly with the exposed rock of it's higher slopes, and all of which seemingly glowing in the late-afternoon sunlight - providing the perfect scenic backdrop; and with barely another living soul in sight... save for the odd inquisitive squirrel or low-flying bird looking for their next meal. The feeling of being completely immersed in the most spectacular of natural surroundings - from the near-deaftening roar to the constant shower of mist; and even the smell of the fresh, clean mountain air - was truly an extraordinary sensory experience, and a memory that I will always cherish.
With only thirty kilometres left to go before I made
Mirror image
Fifth Lake in the Valley of Five Lakes it into Jasper, I was in no particular hurry to get going on friday morning; and even once I did finally get underway it was at a pretty pedestrian pace. About ten kilometres short of Jasper I stopped off to see the Valley of Five Lakes, and although I only intended to hike the 5km circuit around the lakes, I figured it would be easier to take my bicycle with me since I could at least leave my bags hanging from the handlebars, rather than leaving my bicycle in the car park and having to carry everything myself.
Big mistake. Not only was the supposedly multi-use trail (ie hiking and mountain biking) littered with rocks and tree roots that made pushing my bicycle an almighty pain in the arse, but thanks to the fact that lake number three was so tiny I missed it altogether I ended up accidentally continuing all the way alongside lake number five, where the trail was so narrow and overgrown with trees I had to basically hack my way through the bush (in much the same way as Stephen and I had done on our 'hike from hell' in Turkey a month earlier!) whilst
The finish line
Arriving in Jasper, 230 kilometres and four days after leaving Lake Louise dragging my fully loaded bicycle that was still weighed down with grocery bags! Needless to say I was less than amused when I finally re-emerged in a clearing about half-an-hour later, though at least I was rewarded for my troubles with some beautiful pictures of the surrounding forest-covered slopes perfectly reflected in the surface of the lakes - otherwise it would have been a complete disaster!
Relieved to finally be hopping back on my bicycle - and adamant that I would not be taking any more ill-conceived detours - I knocked off the remaining ten kilometres to Jasper without incident, wearing a contented smile as I photographed my trusty steed in front of all manner of 'welcome to Jasper' signs; before heading straight into the centre of town to stuff my face full of hamburgers at the first fast food joint I could find! And from there I naturally headed straight to the Jasper Brewing Company pub to suck down a well-deserved pint of beer, whilst watching part of the opening ceremony from the London Olympics... though with the countries coming out in alphabetical order I had unfortunately already missed my own national team's entrance.
Still, I had
Long way between drinks
Road sign beside the Athabasca River successfully managed to cycle all the way from Lake Louise to Jasper (well, almost) along one of the most beautiful and scenic roads anywhere in the world; meeting some wonderful, generous and inspirational fellow adventurers along the way; and in doing so had been able to spend five unforgettable days completely immersed in a kaleidoscope of breathtaking natural scenery. It might have been hard work, but it was definately worth the effort. And it sure beat taking the bus!
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Merissa
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Bear sightings along the road
Thanks for sharing about your adventure! I'm going to be cycling the Icefields Parkway this summer and am trying to read as many blogs/articles about it as possible to prepare myself. I see you wrote about 2 bear encounters, and I was wondering how you handled those situations? Did you bike past them; did you stop at a distance or try to scare them off before approaching; were they scared by your presence or did they ignore you?