Day 13 July 12, 2014

Day 13  July 12, 2014

After a quick breakfast, early morning supermarket trip for wilderness provisions, and a few photos of gorgeous and touristy Jasper, I headed north, ever north.   

About 10 miles north of Jasper, with no one else on the road but me, I encountered a very sad sight.  Lying directly on the center double yellow lines was a motionless bear cub.  I stopped on the shoulder of the road and carefully checked the area to ensure that no other bears were in the area before dismounting.  There was fresh, still red blood coming from the cub’s mouth and no sign of breathing or movement and I determined that the animal had been recently hit by a car and was dead.  I decided to pull the bear, probably weighing 60-70 pounds to the side of the road to be less of a hazard to traffic.  I put my gloves back on and grabbed a rear paw, and dragged the unlucky cub to the shoulder of the road and sadly continued north.

It was a very long day of motorcycling, covering close to 600 miles, but the warm, cloudless weather made for great views of the wild and gorgeous mountains and forests.  Crossing into British Columbia, I stopped for obligatory photos in the town of Dawson Creek, the southern terminus of the famous Alaska-Canadian Highway (The Alcan).  There is a well-known marker to delineate the 0 mile marker and I duly recorded the moment in time.

Trying to balance the expense of last night’s hotel stay, I was searching for an appropriate secluded, dry, flat spot to pitch my tent for free along the side of the road for tonight’s stay.  The rest stop at mile post 80 filled the bill- a secluded area out of view near the children’s playground with freshly mowed lawn and a concrete picnic table to boot!  I asked the family picnicking nearby if setting up my tent in the area would be invasive or troublesome to them and they were enthusiastically agreeable, even sending over their son with an offering of pineapple topped pizza as I set up my tent, which I gratefully accepted.  The young husband of the family stopped over to chat and told me that he worked for the railroad and that he had lost his leg in a tragic accident, getting run over by a train.  He survived (obviously) and used the settlement money to recently purchase a house with five acres of land in British Columbia for his pretty wife and three lovely young children. 

A quiet, restful, and FREE overnight stay.

Day 12 July 11, 2014

Day 12    July 11, 2014

After a howdy doo telephone call to The Bev, I left the Wicked Hostel and headed west for a 300-mile day to include Banff, Lake Louise, and Jasper along the Columbia Icefield Parkway.

Arriving in Banff, I decided to treat myself to a visit to the famous Banff Hot Springs for a relaxing soak in the midst of the magnificent mountain surroundings.  The water is a constant 40 degrees C and is full of minerals that are reputed to be of some health benefit.  Relaxed in the water far longer than the recommended 10-minute limit, and I felt short of breath as I extricated myself from the pool for my follow up shower.  Bad boy.

The next stop at the world-renowned Banff Springs Hotel was an emotional one for me.  I was there once before, about 30 years ago on a memorable Candian Rocky Mountain trip with my now-deceased Father, Louis Cylinder and my buddy and college roommate, Stan Stagg.  I had a strong recollection of our long-ago visit to the hotel’s back veranda with fantastic sweeping overlooks of a rushing river, spectacular forests and mountains, and a golf course.  I choked up, thinking of my Father as I mentioned my last visit to this spot to Taylor, my server.  Ice tea, pineapple cheesecake, and many more tears savoring the sunshine, the view, and fondly remembering my Father at this spot. 

From here, north for a visit to the Chateau Lake Louise Hotel, also a part of my last visit to the Canadian Rockies with Stan and Dad some thirty years ago.  This place also has overwhelming views and is also part of the grand chain of Canadian-Pacific Railroad created hotels designed to spur tourism across Canada.  The heat and overwhelming crowds made this less of an experience for me, so after many photos I cut short my visit and headed north on the Columbian Icefield Highway (CIH) towards Jasper, Alberta.

The mountain views along the CIH are breath-taking with snow-capped mountains in abundance.  Imagine my surprise as I climbed one long grade to encounter a hubbub of vehicles off to the side and a police sheriff motioning me to the pull over.  I inquired what was going on, and he whipped out a radar speed gun and showed me a 97 kilometer per hour (58 MPH) reading assigned to me!  He said that the speed limit in the area was 60 kilometers per hour (about 38 MPH).  The Alberta Highway Patrol sheriff asked for my license, insurance, and driver’s license which necessitated me unpacking the entire motorcycle to get under the seat to access the paperwork.  As he was writing out the ticket, I politely asked the sheriff what on earth was the rationale for such a low speed limit in such a remote area.  He replied the speed limit was due to the uphill/downhill grade changes in this region.  A motorcycle policeman himself, he sympathized with my dismay, and adjusted the ticket to display a lower level violation resulting in a fine of $78.  At least one in every three vehicles was being snagged in this sting.

After getting back underway northbound, I made certain to flag down oncoming southbound motorcyclists and warn them of the police activity ahead.  Ah, poop…..

Checked in to the Athabasca Hotel in Jasper at $130 per night and caught up on my blogging.

Day 11 July 10, 2014

Day 11  July 10, 2014

Yet another perfect weather day dawned, and I was determined to make today better than yesterday’s sour affair.

I conducted an interesting video interview with three of the girls at the far end of our Room #7.  They all grew up in rural Saskatchewan and had eye opening stories for me to absorb about farm life.  Nicole lovingly described her town’s annual “Red Neck Days" fun and funky competitions, including toilet seat horseshoes. 

After my required relocation to Room #9 for my last night’s stay at the Wicked Hostel, I decided to spend the full day off of the motorcycle, and yet again set out to explore more of downtown Calgary.  Enjoying the sunshine, I encountered the River Walk bicycle/pedestrian walkway at the edge of the Elbow River and followed it for about two miles towards Fort Calgary, near the Calgary Stampede Fairgrounds.  I ended up getting somewhat lost and walking completely around the outside perimeter of the expansive Fairgrounds to get back to the Wicked Hostel.  Exhausted from my 5-mile+ walk, I thought that a cold beer sounded good, so stopped into the local Casino one block from the hostel for a Budweiser- big mistake.  I could hardly stand up after one stinkin’ beer!  What a sissy drinker…….

The long-anticipated, sold-out Shania Twain concert in the Saddledome Arena was a truly wonderful experience for me.  Most memorable moments included her arrival on stage via horseback and fully dressed up as a Royal Canadian Mounty, how warm and loving she was throughout the night to her adorning fans (walking the entire inside perimeter of the ice hockey rink to great fanfare), and her strong and flawless voice after being away from performing for the past ten years.  The high point was my favorite song of hers, “Still the One” which left me in sobbing tears.  This song is the one that I hope to dance to with my sweetheart daughter, Amy at her upcoming wedding and encompasses my deep and loving feelings for her- it always makes me think of my special relationship with my darling daughter and hits all of my buttons, big time.  Thanks for a great and memorable evening, Shania.

A super-healthy corn dog with mustard on the walk back to the Wicked Hostel and a final look around and a fond farewell to the fun and energy of Calgary and its signature Calgary Stampede.

Day 10 July 9, 2014

After a really good night of bunk-bed sleep in my cozy room of 8, I fired up the bike and made my way to my pre-arranged appointment at "Anderwerks Motorrad Spezialist" motorcycle shop to have the two brand new tires that I dragged up to Calgary installed and have a oil change and filter done on the bike.  After 3 1/2 hours of waiting I was handed the amazing bill- $384!  Yikes.  I thought it would be well under $200, but their $91 per hour labor rate kinda squashed that dream.

I walked around downtown Calgary's Stevens Street pedestrian outdoor mall and was surprised to see so many people dressing up in western wear- cowbot hat, jeans, boots.  Seems that Calgarians dress up this way to celebrate the Calgary Stampede.  I doubt that they dress up like Orthodox Jews during the High Holy Days or like Muslims during Ramadan, but, hey if it rocks your world........

I was able to figure out how to purchase my ticket to the Chuck Wagon Races/evening show combo at the Stampede grounds for $56 tonight.

Finally, going into the Stampede Grounds (right across the street from the Wicked Hostel!) I was overwhelmed by the amazing amount of junky foods for sale, featuring deep-fried everything- oooooo, yuck!  Deep fried pies and deep fried vegetables?  Hmmmm....



I went to the Chuck Wagon Races and the evening show- in 1 hour and 45 minutes of time, they ran nine one-minute races.  I found the entire thing underwhelming and borderline nonsensical.  Two roomates, Jim from London, and Josh, from Australia, went to the same event and left after only two races due  to boredom.  Not a great day.

Day 9 July 8, 2014

Day 9  July 8, 2014

The morning dawned clear and sunny but quite cold and I could see my breath as I awoke.  I needed to bundle up in layers of fleece and long underwear as I fired up the small but mighty Sterno powered stove for a breakfast of orange tea, oatmeal, and a particularly tasty freeze-dried pouch of blueberries, milk, and granola.  Yum!

Finally, the sun arose over the mountains to the east and began to dry out the tent fly, vestibule, and assorted clothes from yesterday’s laundry/partial drying adventure that were hung over the impromptu bungee cord line between two friendly saplings.  Due to all of these gyrations, I did not finally leave my campsite at Glacier National Park until 10:30 A.M. this morning- shameful, but necessary.

After the short, but scenic ride to the Montana/Alberta border, I crossed the international border into Canada, smuggling my forbidden canister of bear spray into the foreign land- a criminal already! 

I continued on Alberta Route 2 north to the town of Macleod, Alberta where I stopped for a burger and slice of heated up blueberry you-know-what before continuing west for my long awaited visit to the Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump UNESCO World Heritage Site Visitor Center (HSIBJUWHSVC).  I could not have been more impressed with the orientation movie on floor 2 of the 7 floors of the Visitor Center.  It described in fascinating detail how the Blackfoot Indians conducted buffalo hunts 1,000 years ago on foot, before the advent of firearms or horses to help them.  They became expert in the ways of the buffalo, knowing the best times of the year to hunt, devising elaborate funneling boundaries to channel the stampeding herd towards the 35-foot “buffalo jump” cliff, judging when the wind direction was favorable, and disguising themselves as buffalo calves to lure the herd and as wolves to frighten the herd forward into stampede mode.  The millions upon millions of buffalo that roamed the plains were nearly wiped out to the point of extinction by the arrival in the late 1800’s by the arrival of the white men and the railroads on the plains, a truly shameful and mindless slaughter of a seemingly endless resource. 

Calgary's well-run Wicked Hostel, located directly across the street from the Stampede light-rail stop and entrance to the Stampede grounds......

After many pictures taken and some serious reflection, I took off for Calgary, The Wicked Hostel, and The Calgary Stampede, arriving around 6 P.M.  Friendly manager, Paula and hostel owner, Gary checked me in and gave me keys and a tour of the place, explaining about the included breakfast, group showers, free laundry service, group common area, house rules, and right-in-front parking for my motorcycle.  The place is clean and bright and filled with young people from across the globe.  I quickly met Jim, a young and handsome facilities manager from London who occupied one of the 8 bunk beds in my room.  He mentioned to me that our room number 7 was a co-ed room, with the remaining 6 occupants girls from Germany and New Zealand.  This was a surprise to me, but hey, girls are people too, right?  After getting settled I returned to the room and had an extended conversation with Steffi Sausele from Germany (who was in the upper bunk above my lower bunk bed) about the German economy, world politics, and her present job with the German government in their quest to lure engineers, doctors, scientists, truck drivers, and nurses to Germany to fill job positions with small to medium sized companies.  Her dream was to land a position as a blog-based journalist in her favorite city, Vancouver, British Columbia.  A lovely, conversant, and educated young lady, we spoke at length as I downed my dinner of bagels, swiss cheese, water, and apple.  Bed. 

Day 8 July 7, 2014

An overnight rain did no damage to the sturdy Eureka tent or covered motorcycle, and the partly cloudy morning turned into another warm, blue sky, puffy-cloud Summer day in northwestern Montana.

A visit to the ranger station at St. Mary Campground in Glacier National Park's eastern entrance, confirmed that I was being booted out of my present camp site and had to relocate to a different site at the opposite end of the campground.  After a nice hot shower,  I ferried the tent and all my camping gear via motorcycle to the new site and reset the tent; I convinced a friendly neighbor to drop off my blown up air mattress at the new camp site #C 119 for me.  After a super lunch at a café in St. Mary, I took off for my long-awaited tour of the Going to the Sun Road, a 50-mile roadway traversing Glacier National Park from east to west. 

There are no words in the English language to adequately convey the scope, grandeur, and magnificence of Glacier and especially, the views along the Going to the Sun Road. 

When I reached West Glacier, the western end of the road, I went into the visitor center and was suddenly struck in an emotionally surprising way as I soaked up what I had just experienced- I was lucky enough to have a perfect ride, on the best motorcycle human hands ever built for such a day, with perfect weather, with the support of a beautiful, wonderful, understanding and forgiving wife, a stable job situation that allowed me one full month to fulfill a dream, and to do it all in good health.  I became a bit weepy and brushed away more than a couple of tears before remounting the K 75 and heading back along the same road east bound to my campsite in St. Mary.  Back in the campground, I did laundry, made a freeze-dried dinner for myself, and quickly rushed off to a ranger program talking about the necessity of fire as part of the cycle of growth in forested areas of national parks.  This was surely a day to remember forever.

Day 7 July 6, 2014

I left my campground and entered Teddy Roosevelt National Park, finally purchasing my Golden Age lifetime National Park pass from Alicia, the park ranger for $10.

I cruised through the park for about an hour enjoying the interesting rock formations and topography, before leaving for another stint on Interstate 94 westbound.  The hungry man breakfast at a café in Glendive, Montana was just the ticket to fuel me up for the 600-mile ride in front of me.  After gassing up in Glendive, I headed west towards Circle, Montana on desolate two-lane route number 200 S.  Realizing the long distance ahead of me to reach Glacier National Park, I was traveling at a steady pace of 90 miles per hour when I was stunned as a small bird flew up and bonked the top of my helmet, luckily just above the visor!  Quite a wake up call, and very unsettling- hope the bird survived.

I reached the town of Wolf Point, Montana and headed west on Route 2, which traverses the entire width of the state of Montana.  I was happily humming along in the vast grasslands of this part of the state when for no apparent reason after only 136 miles since my last gas fill up, the bike sputtered and died and would not restart.  I could not understand why I ran out of gas- I had traveled earlier 176 miles on a fill up and still had approximately a half a gallon of gas left in the tank. 

My analysis came up with three reasons for the sudden terrible fuel mileage – 1) excessive speed 2) head winds 3) lousy packing job allowing the two blue dry bags strapped on top of my  hard saddlebags to stick out further and catch the wind.

As I rolled to a stop I looked around and amazingly found myself opposite an ice cream shop in the middle of nowhere.  I rolled my bike down a short grassy hill to the shop and parked it.    I asked for the manager to see if perhaps they had some gas for their lawn mower that I could buy but he told me the closest gas available was in a town about a half a mile away.  He said if I could get the motorcycle there, the gas station in town was closed, but I could use my credit card to buy gas at the station.  I decided to take a table, have some ice cream, and determine my next course of action, when a friendly older man named Larry approached me before I could even sit down.  He overheard my conversation with the manager and volunteered to drive into town, purchase a couple of gallons of gas and bring it back for me.  Overwhelmed,  I pulled out my wallet and offered him money for the purchase but he refused, asking if regular grade gas was okay for my motorcycle.  He left the ice cream shop and I sat down and ordered a root beer float.  As I was finishing the root beer float, Larry returned with a full 2-gallon gas can. We filled up my tank I paid him $10 with many, many, many, many, many, thanks.  He handed me the receipt for the 2 gallons and offered to give me change back but I refused. I gratefully shook his hand and the bike fired up immediately and I was back on my way west.  Wow!

This is where I ran out of gas....

Beautiful, but empty.

Amazingly lucky place to run out of gas, opposite an ice cream shop,

with Larry to the rescue!  

Thanks, Larry!

I arrived at Glacier National Park perhaps 30 minutes before total darkness and was able to secure a camp spot in St. Mary's campground on the east side of Glacier National Park.  I had just enough light to set up my tent and ensure that everything was secured from the weather before darkness fell.