Mountain Highs

We did it. We towed a 34', triple axle trailer with our little 1500cc Chev Avalanche through the mountains. Not just any mountains, but the Canadian Rockies - through Rogers and Kicking Horse Pass, to be exact.




For sure, we did not go as fast as those BC licenced full-ton duallys pulling their 5th wheels at 110kph, and yes, our Avalanche was a little warm when we got to the top. But when we unhook to go into town or to bop around sightseeing, we sure are glad for the better gas mileage that we get from our little truck than the mighty 2500 or the 3500cc's.




Our first mountain pass just before Revelstoke was rather tame. It was the site of the last spike for CP Rail, and they have a little park there commemorating it. Crossing the Columbia River again, (we crossed it once  coming out of Oregon) we got to the town of Revelstoke, sitting in a beautiful valley. Snow capped peaks were all around us. Our campground was beside a small lake, actually just a little more than a big pond. The best thing about this lake was that it was stocked with big rainbow trout. Not that we caught any while we were there. But the osprey and bald eagles nesting close by caught a few, and we were able to watch.

It was a pretty wet week, in fact a wet spring judging by the overflowing banks of the rivers, so we spent time touring the hydro dam and the railway museum. The railroad is a big part of the history up here. Trains were in this area before roads, and the towns grew around these supply lines. We also drove up to Glacier National Park and then took a trip down to the hot springs. Finally when the weather cleared we hiked part of Revelstoke Mountain and paddled the pond.

Then, under full sunshine, we packed up and headed up to the higher mountain passes. We passed mountains with tops of bare and jagged rock and others covered by snow and glaciers. We praised our little Avalanche and called it baby names as it chugged up the big hills.  And when we got to the other side of those mountains, we found rain again.




We also found Lake Louise. A beautiful lake of a cloudy green colour, with a glacier on the end. Another tick off the old bucket list: we paddled it down to the end and back. It was quite busy with tourists, even on a wet Tuesday. The walkway on the side of the lake had a steady stream of people, and we could see the camera flashes going off even at the far end of the lake.









The tiny village of Lake Louise, and in fact Hwy 1 as well, happens to be built right on a wildlife corridor.
They have managed to reduce the number of animal collisions on the road by erecting a fence all along the highway. And then they created these really great wildlife "overpasses" as well as underpasses so that wildlife movement isn't limited. 








Except that the village of Lake Louise is inside the fence with the bears and such. Since they can't fence off the inhabitants of the village, they fenced right up to the entrance road and added a cattle guard. This keeps the animals off the main road, but not out of the downtown.


We are in a trailer campground right in the village that is specific for hard sided trailers. No tent trailers or pop-ups allowed. All soft sided tents and trailers are in a different spot that is encircled by an electric fence. That is probably only for the peace of mind of the campers. The hiking trails and all walkways are frequented by bears, as evidenced by the scat all along them. Usually fresh.

Being that there was still lots of rain the first few days, we also took trips to Banff and Canmore (anyone remember "Mike, from Canmore"). Obviously, zipping down Hwy 1 from one town to the next, there's not much to see for wildlife because of the fencing. So on our way back, we took the Bow River Parkway, which runs parallel to Hwy 1, but on the other side of the Bow River, and thus inside the fencing. Much slower, but way more satisfying. We got to see a mother grizzly and her 3 cubs munching on dandelions, a couple of elk grazing in a meadow, and a string of falls in the Johnson River Canyon.

Since that was so much fun, we decided to drive the Icefields Parkway up to Jasper. This parkway is also open to wildlife and we saw a lot of it. In between magnificent views of jagged, snow capped mountains with blue glaciers hanging off its cliffs, we saw herds of big horn sheep, a few black bears, and one huge grizzly ambling by the roadside. In park terms, these viewings usually caused "bear jams", where motorists will stop at the side of the road when they see an animal. The cars coming behind or towards them will also stop, sometimes in the middle of the road blocking it completely. It gets worse when people jump out of their cars and go running over to take a really close picture. Not always a good idea when it's a bear.

Our last day in Banff National Park was cool and wet. How unusual. But we took the gondola up to the peak of the ski hill near the village anyway, despite the fresh snow that we could see up there. With the wind blowing, it was cold enough to require our winter coats. Good thing we brought them on this "warm weather only" trip. It pays to be prepared. The view was amazing. We could look over the endless mountains and down at Lake Louise, its green colour still startling at that distance.

There were a few hikes and such that we would have done if we'd stayed longer. Maybe that's something we can come back to do. Meanwhile, it's time to pack up our poor beleaguered SUV and point it east, out of the mountains and those big old trucks that show it up on the hills.


We don't want it to get an inferiority complex.

W

Pushing back time

He likes to push me.  Beyond my boundaries, I mean.  To be fair, many years ago I did tell my hubby to take me out of my comfort zone.  Silly man, forgets all kinds of other things, but not that.

We left the Vancouver area and drove through the farmland that is the Fraser River Valley.  Going north at the town of Hope, farmland gives way to the Fraser Canyon. Steep granite walls compress what was a wide river in the valley and make it fast and furious.

That's when we came across a little tourist site called "Hell's Gate".  It's a narrows in the canyon, where the fast water has to force its way. A gondola swings you hundreds of feet over this boiling water to the other side. Where the only bathrooms are, by the way.  He nudged, and he pushed, and we got on the gondola. It was a smooth ride, sliding down toward the buildings on the other side of the river. Once we landed there was a museum, a cafeteria, and a fudge shop, all on a patio looking over the water.  It seems odd that these facilities should be on the opposite side of the river from the road, but a railroad runs right along that side. A second railroad track runs along the highway side of the river, too, and that is how it is for both the Fraser River and the Thompson. I guess CP and CN just don't get along.




After following the Fraser north, we got to go east along the Thompson River. And suddenly the granite walls of the canyon gave way to more sloping hills and sandy soils.  Trees became scarce, and sagebrush and dry grass populated the hills.  After all that coastal weather, I was pleased to finally reach a dry and arid area, although very surprised to see it in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.

We stopped at the village of Cache Creek. This little place is all about the 50's and 60's. The Visitor Center is decorated to look like a old 50's diner and there's a drive-in burger joint right beside it. Better yet, the weekend we got there was the town's "Graffiti Days". The local radio station had 24 hour oldies playing, there was a parade of classic cars, and a sock hop was held.







The nostalgia theme is a good attraction. It brought over 200 car buffs showing off their prized possession. And of course, the beer garden brought out the locals.

For sure, there wasn't a lot of "oldies" in the crowd. The few gray heads we saw were enjoying the cars and the tunes. But it's doubtful many went to the sock hop.  It didn't start until after 9:30.









The rest of our time there was spent walking the dozens of trails crisscrossing the hills around us.  Now, it doesn't look like it from the road, but the hills and trails can be steep.  I don't mind walking up hills for the exercise, but I kinda draw the line at having to use my hands and feet to clamber up them.

Unless I get pushed.


W

Island Time

I was very excited as we boarded the ferry for Vancouver Island. I could see the mountainous land mass across the strait and was eager to get there. Ah, but the ferry has a calming effect. You can't make it go any faster, so you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.



This BC Ferry was huge, and not only carried large transport trucks in the belly, the upper floors had a cafeteria, cafe, and a gift shop in the middle while the rows of padded seats and the odd computer desk hugged the large windows. No whales this trip, just several sea birds and the island coming ever closer. I was surprised to see snow, as I hadn't even known Vancouver Island had mountains, never mind ones big enough to be snow capped.




 Turns out, it has a lot of mountains, which is why most of the people living there are located on the lower south-east side.  Hwy 1 is the main road that runs from Nanaimo to Victoria and, despite the highway designation, has intersections and stoplights all the way along to accommodate the numerous smaller communities.

Everything is lush and green, and everyone's garden is blooming. Exotic flowers even grow wild on the roadsides on the way to Victoria.


Victoria itself is like an old lady that hasn't yet realized that those "youngsters" that drive cars have taken over the place.  Much better to park the car and walk, not only passing the bumper to bumper traffic, but enjoying the views and buskers, too.






So we walked, and biked, and stopped at the small but lively Fisherman's Wharf during our downtown Victoria time. We enjoyed the city.  It was bicycle friendly and very dog friendly. Not always a combination that works. But in the case of the Seaside Trail it meant that the bicycles were relegated to share space with the cars while the walkers with their off-leash dogs got the paved trail. I appreciated the recognition that the drivers gave the bikers. Truly appreciated, trust me.


The downside of the Victoria area is the newer definition of B.C.:  Bring Cash.  Even the tour guide at the Parliament Buildings said that tourism is now the province's biggest industry. That means everything "touristy" is expensive - and so much in this part of the island is created for tourists.

We did our share to bolster the local economy. It was easy to leave a lot of money at Butchart Gardens - not only for the steep entry fee, but also for the well-placed ice cream stands. It's a good thing for our waistlines that there was also a lot of walking involved.

We left the southern end and wandered the coasts, visiting the smaller towns.  Every one had a unique story to tell, but they all showcased the community efforts that went in to making a difference in each town. Whether it was painting murals on all of the downtown buildings, maintaining the walkways along the coast, or being a volunteer for events, each resident of the smaller communities pitched in and were obviously proud of their results. Even a city as large as Campbell River had a small town feel.


The west coast differed from the east only in the size of their surroundings. The most western Pacific coast has bigger trees, longer beaches, higher waves, and wilder forests. The rocks off shore are sharper, the tide pools on shore are deeper. And the mountains are closer. This tends to bring the fanatics: the surfers, the long distance bikers, the West Coast Trail hikers. And little old me, just wanting to see everything.



The best of everything I saw? The west coast tide pools. Far removed from the shallow pools I had seen before, these are deep and rocky and hold so much life and colour. Starfish can be pink or orange or grey or purple. Some have five legs, others as many as 20. Green anemones turned the tide pools into watery gardens. And reclusive crabs scurried under the closest rock, and then argued with the one that had gotten there first. I spent hours watching the inhabitants while hubby fished the surf for supper. I risked life and limb clambering over the sharp rocks at low tide trying to find the pool with the most starfish. We found 30 in one crevasse before the tide turned and we were driven inland.


We had thought that two weeks was enough time to see the island. In the end, there are still places on our "to see" list that we didn't make it to. There wasn't enough time to get to the north end, or the fishing villages on the deep inland fjords. And hubby is promising to come back to do the challenging West Coast Trail, preferably without me.  The only thing we have time for now is the calming ferry ride back to the mainland.

W