Cross Canada Dog and Pony Show Part 3
I realize that the last blog was a little deceiving…we didn’t make our way straight from Westlock, Alberta to British Columbia in one fell swoop. It’s about eight hours just to the border of B.C., after all, and about 1,200 km (around 13 hours of driving + ferry trip) to our first destination of Rudy and Candice’s place in Gibsons.
There were a couple of not-so-little blips of stops before we made it out of cattle country and into the land of the tree-hugging hipsters.
Hinton, Alberta
We had a brief overnight stay in the outskirts of Hinton, whose claim to fame is being “the gateway to the Rockies”. There was a Boston Pizza with stairs so steep you practically needed a gondola to get there, a Mark’s Work Warehouse with enough pj pants to clothe their entire population of 10,000 (a bonus since Mark had forgotten his), and a subdivision trail that turned into a logging road barely wide enough for the monster mosquitoes inhabiting it.
How can it get any better than waking up to a view of mountains framed by lodgepole pine?
Well, maybe slightly better had the downstairs hotel neighbours refrained from shrieking obscenities while taking turns scraping items in and out of their truck bed…lift out a suitcase, scream, replace in a spot about three inches from where it was originally, other person yells, drags item back into previous spot and…repeat…with the same item and about ten others…
Yes, we were nosy enough to watch.
Talbot Lake
As the sun rose in the sky and beat through the sunroof, we decided that as fun as swamp arse can be, we really wanted to avoid it (newly dating, remember?). We chose the first pull-off we saw—a rocky swarm of dirt with Jasper Lake on one side and Talbot Lake on the other.
Any stop on this drive will take your breath away. This was no different.
As we tripped out of pants and into shorts, neon teal dragonflies swarmed our ankles. A couple of kayakers silently glided across the lake, mountains behind them. Even the recently charred stumps just beyond the boaters didn’t spoil the Rocky Mountain vibe. Silently, clasping hands, we memorized the view.
Jasper, Alberta
A couple of hours later, we were met by throngs of people meandering the streets of Jasper. Our bellies howled for something to eat and after finding what seemed like the only parking spot left near the outskirts of the town of about 5,000, we walked and walked and walked until we found a rooftop patio facing the train station for the famous Rocky Mountaineer.
The waiter resembled a depressed version of young Avril Lavigne. With a face that begged to have something to smile about and an attitude that needed a few hundred milligrams of Prozac, she brought tangerine beer and a Canadian pizza that cost enough to pay for her therapy sessions.
It didn’t dampen our mood. We soaked up the jazzy music, watched as people rushed to board the glass-top railcars, and planned our next stop.
The Jasper Skytram
The Jasper Skytram was an audible-at-the-line decision. Oh, for those of you like me who weren’t raised by diehard NFL fans, that translates to “last minute”.
It hadn’t been on our bucket list—but it should be on yours.
Whisked in an aerial tramway to 2,263m with twenty-five others, we chose to hike the rest of the way to Whistler Summit. The rock-laden “path” is only about 1.4km but it’s sort of like trekking up a waterslide made out of glass. Also, keep in mind that my recent knee injury had me wobbling about enough that Mark had nicknamed me “OG” (Old Girl). Despite this, I was determined to hobble my way to the top.
The views? Worth it. What an experience. On a sunny, cloudless day like we had, you can see over 80 km away, including BC’s Mount Robson which we would later drive by on our way further west.
The ascent wasn’t actually that painful. It was the descent that scraped away at my will to live.
Plus, no blame: Mark’s guts were begging to be on the throne, so he left me teary-eyed in a dust cloud so thick I could’ve saddled it up and ridden it to the gift shop at the base. I should’ve. It would’ve involved the need for a few less painkillers.
But I’m alive to tell the tale. And we made it over the Yellowhead Pass and to our next stop in Valemount, British Columbia without the need for an air ambulance or Depends. So, that’s an accomplishment when you’re our age.
Yay, B.C.
We were officially in British Columbia. Even if we still had almost 800 kms and a ferry ride to get to Gibsons.
Read the first two parts of our Cross Canada adventure here.