Day 6
But, Day 6. Well it was a bit of a rocky spot to begin with.
I woke up to more rain. It's not that I'd had nonstop rain on the trip so far or anything, but it just seemed to be a constant presence. I was either getting rained on, about to get rained on, or drying out from being rained on. Repeat. And not nice warm summer showers, chilly stuff.
Bad weather is to be expected. And I had no right to complain. But I was disappointed that I hadn't had better conditions for mountain viewing.
So, a dark, wet and chilly morning isn't what I had been hoping for. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and such, and was a bit shocked by the bags under my eyes. I mean, they were huge sacks hanging down my face. I wondered if I would need plastic surgery to fix the things. But clearly I was wearing myself out.
Next to my campsite was a group shelter I hadn't noticed the night before. So I hauled all my stuff into there. I broke down the soaking tent. I took some time to organize, and jot some stuff in my journal. "I feel the possibility of panic and depression at the edges. Not forcing themselves into my head, but certainly would come in if invited. I don't love them lurking though. Lots of trip ahead and nothing is wrong that some warm sun wouldn't fix."
So onward and upward. I rode in the rain a bit, then it broke. And I saw a griz. How can you whine when you get to see a griz?
I got too close to that one. I was standing next to my bike trying to get the perfect shot, because there are no good grizzly shots available on the internet? But I was thinking I was too close. Then the guy took three steps in my direction and he was real close. It's not like he was going to bother me, but a deep and primitive part of my brain begged me to jump up on the bike fast and go. And I did.
Lake Louis ... what the heck. I swear to god that there is no line of people that is worth standing in for anything. And Lake Louis was a mess of people queuing up because everyone else was queuing up. Herd behavior. I finally got parked and realized it was just a lake next to an ice field with people paddling kayaks. I had wasted time. I took a single picture and scrammed. Found a cafe with a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich and a blueberry muffin. Next best thing in this world besides possibly warm sun.
I feel like when you discover a new road, you kill it. You can ride it again, but you can never discover it again. So while there's joy in a new road, there is a bit of sadness as well. Well, I didn't kill the Icefields Parkway. I may have wounded it, but it is still there for me to discover. I had some views, but I think if I ever go back and there are some blue skies and visibility it will seem like a brand new experience.
But, it's not like I saw nothing. The colors of the waters up there is just stunning.
I wish I had a geologist travelling with me. You can just see the earth in motion, albeit very slow motion. But at the ice fields themselves, it's like you can see the glacier eating the mountain while you sit there. If you can distinguish the ice pack from the clouds.
I stop a lot. Sometimes just in the breakdown lane. I think one guy riding two-up on a v-strom checked on me like three times that day, just getting an OK signal from me that I wasn't having trouble.
There was a line of teenagers riding bicycles down the Parkway, and another mile down a kid alone working on her chain. So I turned around to see if I could help. She had a radio and a chase vehicle was coming, so no worries. So I said have a good day, she looks at my bike and says "You look bad ass on that thing!" I rode with with a smile from that for a while.
One cool stop that day was at the Mistaya River, where you can see how the river has slowly worked its way down through the rock. More cool geologist stuff. I should have taken my rain gear off before hiking down there, but it kept me warm and I was just tired of the on-again/off-again routine. Chatted with a retired Tennessee motorcycle cop who now runs a motorcycle training facility. Real laid back. Talked safety without it being preachy. We pretty much agreed on the best way to enjoy corners, it's not really about the speed but rather the lean, and control, and powering out.
Once I put on my heated vest I mocked myself for waiting so long. I was trying to save an extra layer for when I needed it. Next time I'll put it on when I want it, not when I need it.
I guess I didn't realize I'd be going into British Columbia when planning, that was kinda a fun surprise.
I got myself to Tete Jaune Cache to the West of the provincial park. There is a little "resort" there with a motel, RV Park and little cabins. The shower building was spotless, the cabin was spotless, the owners were wonderful. This place is Highly Recommended: http://www.tetejaunelodge.com/.
After a warm shower and putting on some warm clothes, I was a bit renewed. I wandered down to the cafe on the river.
This was a jewel. A highlight of the trip. It was a small restaurant right on the Fraser River, which was that deep blue or green/blue color. You could sit out on the deck or inside. There was a bar. It was run by these two german guys. A taller guy ran the bar and the till, and this shorter jolly and round red-faced guy was the cook. They were like a old TV abbott-and-costello kinda pair. Really nice guys.
There was a buffet, and a couple things on the menu. I did the buffet and sat outside and drank red wine. I ate Swedish meatballs and some chicken curry and plenty of other stuff. When a cold front came through I moved inside and ate dessert and sipped coffee. I took a table alone, and just sat there absorbing the sounds of the tables around me. A little toasted from the wine I think I had a cheshire grin growing.
I was happy to just be sitting there. But eventually I gave up my table when a new group needed it, walked back up to my little cabin, and slept pretty well.
My wine glass is just out-of-frame ...
