Tag Archives: Travel

Experiencing the Icefields Parkway

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Peyto Lake

“It’s a scenic drive, not a transportation corridor.” So states the Parks Canada brochure of the Icefields Parkway. Perhaps that’s why the 140 mile route from Lake Louise to Jasper took us 10 hours. The scenery alone was cause for diversion, and there were plenty of turnouts and viewpoints to indulge our appetite for views of the surrounding mountains, rivers, lakes and woods. A favorite stop was the overlook at Peyto Lake. The deep hues of its blue green water contrasting with the snow capped mountains and a bit of luck with the sunlight provided us with an astounding sight.

View from Wilcox Pass

Of course, we did take time to do a few select hikes along the way. Our first was at Wilcox Pass, and proved that every hiking experience has its own unique flavor. This time we followed a ridge line high above the highway. It was wide open terrain, open to the wind, but providing constant views of the peaks around us. Passing above the tree line and into the meadow which formed the mountain pass, we were once again in the land of snow. We managed to continue forward progress crossing the snowy patches by literally following in the deep footsteps of earlier hikers. A few mis-steps revealed just how deep the snow really was! We ultimately reached a rocky pinnacle that provided a 360 degree panorama of snowy peaks. To travel beyond would have required snowshoes, and we were not that well prepared (but we did meet some hikers earlier who were – now we know why!). We took on our fill of the scene, took an abundance of photos, and mutually agreed that we had reached the far extent of our travels for that hike.

Stanley Falls

Or second hike was a hidden gem. Its only marking from the highway was a little hiker sign, and the initial path did not seem to hold much promise. But the Information Center guide had assured us there were six waterfalls, and he didn’t let us down. We soon came upon the lowest of Stanley Falls on Beauty Creek, and were captivated. The thundering creek had cut a deep gourge into the rocks, and the water tore downhill and around bends. We followed the trail upstream, marveling at how perilously close to the edge one could venture – it both afforded excellent views and invited danger. We did indeed find six falls, although it was almost continuous waterfall. It was a hike well worth doing, yet we didn’t meet anyone else on the trail.

Finally, as we closed in on Jasper, our progress was further delayed by wildlife. What appeared to be a long pileup of cars at the side of the road up ahead turned out to be motorists gawking at a black bear. There he was, along side the road, leisurely eating and ambling along. Naturally we joined the throng and took our share of pictures. The next encounter was a gray wolf, frustrated in his attempt to cross the road, and we tracked him just barely in the woods (from the car) until he moved further inland. Our last encounter was with three elk on a smaller road, and they made it clear that they owned the roadway as they crossed in front of us.

Sometimes drives are not meant to be rushed. This was one of them.

Glacier Lake Trail

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Rich and Erik on the Glacier Lake Trail

We could have been on a hiking trail in northern Minnesota. We traveled over well worn ground carpeted by pine needles, deep in a green forest with only the earliest spring wild flowers displaying their colors. Sunshine streaked through the branches, showering us with light only when the canopy allowed it through. Sounds of rushing water in overflowing spring streams were easily confused with the rustle of the wind in the treetops overhead.

View from the trail

But as soon as a broader vista was available, the myth was dispelled and it was obvious we were in the Canadian Rockies. All it took was a bit of a break in the trees to see the snow covered peaks beyond. But even better were the overlooks, where we could see mountains in all directions. And every time we saw them, it felt new to us all over again. An amazing vista.

Today we were blessed with sunshine, blue sky and a return to summer! It helped that we followed the knowledgeable advice gained at the Information Center in Lake Louise and chose a hike at a lower elevation, known to be snow-free early in the season. It was a 9 km hike to Glacier Lake, which was over rolling terrain with one long climb up to a high ridge and then down to the shores of the lake. The spring runoff overwhelmed the trail at times, sending us scrambling for footholds or into the surrounding brush in an attempt to keep our feet dry.

Arriving at Glacier LakeBut arriving at the lake was the best part of all. We emerged from the woods to the shores of a turquoise blue lake ringed by snowy mountains. And not another sole in sight. We had a picnic lunch on the rocky beach, soaking up the sun and the view. A bit of quick exploration revealed Campsite viewbeautiful campsites right on the lake shore, and left us envious of others who would be staying the night in such a gorgeous location. We would all have traded our comfy cabin for a tent on the lake in a heartbeat. Even after significant lingering time, it was all we could do to tear ourselves away and begin our return trip. But then, it’s always better to leave wanting more.

Hiking Lake Louise and beyond

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The “snow fall” theme for this trip continues, although today it came in the form of snow falling down the mountainside – an avalanche! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Our destination for today’s hike was the Plain of Six Glaciers. We started off alongside the popular Lake Louise. One can see why its clear blue green water surrounded by mountain peaks is such a draw, but we were happier when we continued beyond the populated tourist trails and ventured into the wilderness areas. We passed through pine forest, followed rushing water, looked up sheer rock faces, and picked our way on rocky footings and across deep snowy fields. As Erik commented, “This is what I came for!”

Tea House at Six Glaciers

The reward for our efforts was reaching a Tea House on the mountainside. It had only been open for a week so far this season, and the staff willingly answered all our questions about how they get supplies up there (answer, helicopter drops once a season plus pack horses). We settled ourselves at a bright red table on the log balcony of the stone building, and savored outstanding soup and home made bread, flavor enhanced by the outdoor experience.

We did quite well in the wildlife department, spotting mountain goats, a marmot, porcupine, Clark’s Nutcracker, and even a mama Grizzly bear and two cubs. The latter were far across the lake, but we followed their progress along the entire shoreline.

Snow resting at the foot of the avalanche

There were signs warning hikers of avalanche danger in the area, and in fact, we could hear and see them up high on the distant mountains. It was on our return trip that the experience became distinctly personal. Just before crossing a large snow field, we heard the telltale sounds, and there directly in front of us was an avalanche, spewing snow above our trail! It looked just like a waterfall coming down the mountain, but the spray and masses of moving moisture were snow not water. The accumulated mounds of snow formed large snowballs that slid down the slope in a very liquid manner. It was fascinating to watch, even though it threatened to cover our path. We watched in amazement, as it poured on and on, wondering if and when it would be safe for us to continue. It eventually came to rest well above our path, and we high tailed it across, only to see it reactivate when we reached the other side.

Day 2 in the Canadian Rockies – never a dull moment.

Canadian Rockies here we come!

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We are about to embark on the third and final College Graduation Trip!  Diplomas were handed out Memorial Day weekend and the new job begins July 9, so this is our son Erik’s final hurrah and our special time together before he heads out into the “real world.”

The destination is the Canadian Rockies, and the focus will be on hiking in the mountains.  Erik’s choice is one of those featured in National Geographic’s Drives of a Lifetime: 500 of the World’s Most Spectacular Trips.  That’s a pretty good recommendation, even if he didn’t know it when he made his selection.  After months of research, countless visits to TripAdvisor, and reading way too many reviews, we have all our reservations and are ready to depart on Saturday.  Here is the basic plan:

  • Arrive in Calgary and immediately head up the Icefields Parkway
  • 3 nights in Lake Louise, hiking in Banff National Park
  • 4 nights in Jasper, hiking in Jasper National Park, with a side-trip to Mt. Robson Provincial Park
  • 1 final night in Banff, then return home

The goal was to limit moving around and maximize time spent outdoors.  We also chose accommodations in simple cabins.  Erik would have preferred “back country” lodgings, which require hiking in to reach them.  That sounded like great fun, but the timing of our trip precluded such adventure, as they do not open until later in the season (something about snow conditions…).

If time, inclination and internet connections permit, I hope to blog along the way.  But there is also something to be said for unplugging.  If it comes to choosing between an evening bonfire and blogging, I  already know which will win.

New Twist on an Old Game

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I come from a family of game players. Our specialty is word games. When my husband and I were first dating, I finally talked him into playing Scrabble with me. At first, I trounced him regularly. Then the tables began to turn. He played with strategy! High scoring words were no longer enough to ensure my victory – he began to block my moves. Deliberately! He could turn a Scrabble board into an unplayable assortment of letters in just a few moves. It became a whole new game. Literally. But that wasn’t a bad thing, and it made for a much more genial relationship by balancing out the scores.

This weekend, we had two 10-hour car trips to attend our youngest son’s college graduation. We carpooled with our daughter, her husband and their new baby to and from the festivities. To pass the time, I reached back to a favorite word game that was well suited to car trips in my youth – Jotto. A quick search on the internet quickly refreshed my memory of the rules. It is normally played with two players. Each person thinks up a 5-letter word. The players proceed to ask each other 5 letter words, and the number of correct letters from the secret word is revealed. By repeatedly asking words to rule letters in and out, one can eventually guess the other player’s word. It particularly appeals to my mathematical and analytical mind, as well as word knowledge. But we had three players, so we dreamed up a new approach – round robin Jotto. Player A tries to guess Player B’s word, Player B guesses Player C’s word, and C tries to guess A’s. Surprisingly, it worked out quite well! And suddenly, our game for 2 was expandable to any number of players. Once a player was out (when their word was guessed correctly), it was possible for them to review other players’ answers to try and guess their word as well.

It was good to revert back to pre-technology times and while away the hours with a mere pen and paper. Try it sometime!

Graduation Travel Tradition

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It started with my husband.  During his senior year of college, he spent a week in Antigua with his parents.  Not with his brothers, just him and his parents.  It made a big impression on him, and he felt it was a special time shared with his parents before he left school and started his first job.  At his suggestion we decided to replicate it.

Even when they were young, we told our children about this plan.  When they graduated from college, we would take them – not their siblings – on a trip, to a destination of their choosing.  Over the years, it became my favorite dinner time probe.  Where do you think you will go for your graduation trip?

Our first trip was to Jamaica.  Our daughter, Karen, wanted a beach vacation, and a place to relax and soak up the sun after a hectic senior year.  We found a wonderful small resort, Catcha Falling Star, perched on the cliffs south of Negril.  We loved our round air-cooled cottage, jumping into the deep blue waters off the rocks, reading by the waterside, and sampling the local fare for dinner.  It was a week of pure relaxation and slow pace.  It was on that trip that Karen shared with us the depth of her love for her now-husband.  Truly a special time!

The next trip took us to Alaska.  Our son, Carl, was looking for adventure and wilderness.  Traveling around the southern portion of the state our favorite venue was Bowman’s Bear Creek Lodge on the Kenai Peninsula.  From there we experienced sea kayaking in Resurrection Bay, fishing for salmon, hiking on glaciers, and enjoyed the best weather of the trip.  The rustic log cabins at Bowman’s and delicious dinner savored on the porch were the perfect complement to our outdoor experience.  We especially relished that week with Carl, as soon afterwards he left for a year’s study abroad as part of his master’s degree program in International Relations.

And now the third and final trip.  Erik will graduate this spring and has selected Banff and Jasper in the Canadian Rockies for his trip.  Hiking and mountains were the key ingredients for him.  The tickets are purchased, lodging reservations in the making, and anticipation is growing.  Now all he has to do is get his diploma.

That will be the end for this generation.  Will they continue the tradition?

Running Ambassadors

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It was our last day in the French countryside.  Staying in a 200-year-old farmhouse in a village of 100 people, my husband, Rich, and I had spent the week in our preferred style of travel – visiting small, out of the way places and savoring the local flavor.

Our destination for that afternoon was Lucon, chosen for its nice Cathedral and formal gardens.  When we arrived, it was clear that we’d stumbled upon an event of some kind.  It turned out to be the start of a running race.  As runners ourselves, it was with a pang of envy that we watched the racers pass.  Being spectators has never been our strong point.  Returning our attention to the “sights” of the town, we found a sign listing the afternoon’s events.   We had just witnessed the start of the 5500m race, and the 10k was yet to come in an hour.  An instantaneous moment of insanity gripped us, as we considered entering the race.  But our running gear was an hour’s drive away, too far to make it back in time.  Practicality ruled, and we continued our way through the town center.  Browsing in shop windows and taking in the town’s architecture consumed 45 minutes, but not our minds…they were still back on that race.  So with 15 minutes to the start, we entered in our own race against time – getting outfitted and into that race!

Our first destination was a shoe store, where we rushed in and tried to explain in our best high school French (now decades past) that we needed shoes to run in that race!  We managed to find two pair that would do, but did not want to commit to buying them unless we could complete the outfit with shorts.  Struggling to get our point across, we acquired directions to the sporting goods store, where we found and changed into new running shorts.  While I completed the transaction for the shoes, Rich made a dash for the starting line.  When I joined him there, he was explaining our plight to the officials – we wanted to race, but alas were not registered.  All this with moments to go before the starting time.  The response, “C’est ne pas grave!” (that’s not serious) and an invitation to join the race was all it took.  Soon we were off with the starting gun!

Somehow we managed to understand that the race would be three loops through town.  We both ran on adrenaline, not being in our best racing condition, and were cheered on by the officials at the starting line each time we passed.  A couple of times we were spotted for running without racing numbers, but a quick shout “Je suis le Americaine!” was all it took – the return look was understanding and forgiveness.   We were steered away from the official chutes at the finish, but the words “Etats Unis” ringing out over the loud speakers recognized our finish in a unique way.

Our friend from the starting line soon sought us out, along with a woman who turned out to be a local reporter covering the race.  Learning the tale of how we entered the race, she entreated us to stay for the awards ceremony.  In the meantime, we took a quick loop through town to return to the shops where we had made our purchases.  Miming our success, we joyfully thanked the merchants amidst exchanges of congratulations and laughter.  We returned to find an Olympic-style podium where local dignitaries presented trophies and large bouquets of flowers to the winners of the various races.  The next thing we knew, we heard them announcing our names!  The journalist woman ushered us up to the front, where they asked us to take our places on the #1 and #2 stands!  Our French served us well enough to understand the Consular General’s description for the audience of how we had come to visit their town, patronized their local shops and joined in the race.  He then turned to us and thanked us in his best English.  Thinking we were done, we were about to depart when he presented us each with a trophy cup, accompanied by a kiss on each cheek for me, 1-2-3 times, as is the custom in Lucon!  We felt quite the celebrities!

We never did see that Cathedral, nor the formal gardens.  But there is no doubt we took in the local flavor.

Trans-Superior Cycling Tour Unveiled

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This is it, the cause of my sudden attachment to my bicycle, the reason for my forays out into the wind and weather for training, the shift from running to cycling.  It’s the Trans-Superior Tour!

Never heard of it?  Probably because it was my husband Rich’s brainchild.  The route, the idea of spending 9 days cycling together, the challenge, and the custom cycling jersey.  It’s not his first such adventure, but it is mine.  I’m a cycling novice, remember?  But I’m up for it!

I have to admit, his route is rather ingenious.  We wanted to focus on Lake Superior, and many of the best views from the road are on the Western end.  So how to contain the trip to that portion of the lake?  No problem – we’ll just ferry across using Isle Royale as a stop-over!  Not a bad way to get a rest mid-trip and perhaps a few hours of hiking in the wilderness.

So here is the official route.  We start in Duluth, work our way along the South Shore and up the Keweenaw Peninsula, right up to the top at Copper Harbor.  That takes five days and is the most challenging part of the route, with the longest cycling days and the most hills.  From there we ferry across the lake and return along the North Shore to Duluth.

I suspect that whittling down my travel essentials to one set of panniers is going to be one of the trickier aspects of the trip.  However, Rich’s mode of travel involves staying at inns and little motels along the way, so I am spared the need to schlep real gear on this venture.  And I admit I like the idea of reliable shelter, hot showers and real beds.

I have between now and mid-August to be ready for this cycling tour.  I will periodically update my training progress and the finer details of our trip plans during that time.  And if you want the male point of view on this journey, visit Rich’s blog, NorthStarNerd.org.

Oh, and did you read the fine print on the jerseys?  That last line reads “500 Miles of Love.”  It has to be, or we wouldn’t be doing this!

Pen Pals across Generations

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I spent my junior year of college studying in the beautiful cathedral city of Durham, England, in one of the finest old universities in the country.  That year gave me an appreciation for living in another country and absorbing its culture through every day life.  I felt strongly that it was important to experience and live with the differences rather than trying to impose our American ways on a foreign environment.  Otherwise, why bother leaving the USA?

It was during that year that I met Mary and we became close friends.  In the pre-internet world, we managed to stay in touch over the years through letters, and treating ourselves to one holiday phone call at Christmas time.  Each time we connected, it was as though we’d just been together days before.  That is the hallmark of true friendship.

One of my parting comments to Mary at the end of that year abroad was to convey a wish.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if years hence, our children could become pen pals and we could send them across the ocean to stay with each other and experience living in a different country?”  Sure enough, we each married, and had a family.  Our oldest were both girls, just one year apart, and at age six, they began writing to each other.  Their diligence mirrored ours, and their friendship grew.  And at the tender age of 12 (what were we thinking?), we put our daughter, Karen, alone on a non-stop flight to London to visit her pen pal, Ruth.  Several years later, their brothers followed suit.  While their correspondence was more sparse and they found less to talk about on our holiday calls, they still formed a bond.  More trips followed in both directions.

Fast forward through the years, and on to our daughters’ weddings.  Ruth came all the way over with her parents for Karen’s wedding, and last summer we were all present at the quintessential Oxford wedding for Ruth.  It felt so right to be there, like being part of the family.

I had no idea what my wish would spawn.  I do believe my children have acquired the same appreciation for other cultures and an interest in seeing more than tourist sites while traveling.  My own friendship with Mary is stronger than ever, having seen each other through numerous life changing events.  And the distance between us has dwindled dramatically with the help of email, Facebook and Skype.

Now that grandchildren are on the scene, perhaps they will carry on the tradition for yet another generation.  My wish lives on.