Day 6 Pictures: Jasper National Park

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Miette Hot Springs, Japser, AB.

Only this was actually the icy cold pool at 15 degrees... but it was the only one without people and a nice backdrop!

The mountain (er... ridge, "Sulphur Ridge") that Smith and I made it to the top of.... not Storm.

Sheep. Not goat.

Jasper National Park

Day 5 Picutres: Prairie Drives to Pembina

The official Alberta/Saskatchewan border in Llyodminister.

Checkin out the Mindbender, pre-mindbend.

At the Saskatchewan/Manitoba Visitors Centre. What are these things? She said it was a "mahp."

West Edmonton Mall

Day 7: August 5, 2010 Jasper National Park to Banff National Park

Day 7: August 5, 2010




Waking up after a cool night not far from an icy river in Jasper National Park, we hit the road early and made frequent stops along “Canada’s most beautiful highway”- the Icefield Highway passing by the Columbia Icefield and Athabasca Glacier. We crossed the Saskatchewan Glacier, the source of the Saskatchewan river we had crossed not days ago.



The photos speak for themselves, but the scenery was spectacular. We couldn’t help but pull over at each and every look out. It was one of the quieter legs of the trip in the car- we found ourselves captivated by the towering mountains and sparkling blue river water- images we’re used to seeing in beer commercials and on bottled water labels. The drive from Jasper to Banff is one that every Canadian should experience.



We arrived at Lake Louise mid-afternoon under sunny skies amongst bus loads of tourists. We treated ourselves to a pitcher of Grasshoppper on the Fairmont patio overlooking the glistening Lake Louise. We’re now on the road to Banff, where we’ll be trekking into the mountains for some car-less camping tonight. Hopefully Storm stays on the right mountain this time.

Day 6: August 4, 2010 Pembina to Jasper

Day 6: August 4, 2010




We had a team best wakeup time and were out of Pembina Provincial Park by 9:30am. With Jasper a mere 2 hours west, we were ramped up for the start of the real mountain wilderness. Big West Country continued to serenade us with songs like “I’m good at drinkin beer.”



Arriving at the Jasper gatehouse by noon, I went snap happy with the new landscape. Pulling off the main road a few kilometres in, we made an “on the fly decision” (as most of ours seem to be) to check out the Miette Hot Springs. Stopping at hot springs had been on my to-do list since that first post on “43 things” so we made it our first adventure in Jasper National Park. After giving correct, but apparently ‘lost in translation’ directions to an unhappy French family, we decided to do a quick hike beyond the springs to “earn” our hot soak. We tossed on our running shoes and loaded up on bug spray, and believe it or not, I- the neurotic planner- didn’t even stop to look at the details of the route at the trailhead. I did notice it would be a 5km trail (one way), offering “panoramic views,” but elected not to share this with the boys for fear of them backing out and heading straight for the spring pools instead. Ten minutes into the trek Storm says, “This is great. So are the springs just at the end of this here?”

“Ah....no. We passed them on our way onto the trail,” I reply.

“Oh! No kidding,” he says. And we keep going.



At the thirty minute mark (what ended up being 1/6th of the way up) we pause and glance up.

“You think that’s the peak we’re headed to?” asks Storm pointing upwards.

“Ya, looks like it could be,” agree Smith and I.

“I dare you to go straight up from here,” I challenge Storm.

“Ya?” Storm says with a grin. And then he was gone- straight up through thick brush and steep inclines. In a bathing suit, with no shirt on.

Smith and I laugh and watch as Storm disappeared into the trees.



We turn and keep walking, half expecting Storm to be racing to catch up with us when his attempt fails, but also joking about a mountain-top rendezvous should he succeed. We continue climbing, and frequently find ourselves thinking we’re almost at the top... but not quite. More and more time passes, and Smith and I agree that Storm has likely encountered rocky cliffs or bears and was forced to turn back, and would be trailing us by at least an hour. As we trek on, we see that the trail has veered far from the peak we were originally scoping out. The peak that Storm was “heading for.”



At the 2.5 hour mark, Smith and I pause, still thick in the trees but with far-reaching views of the valley and the hot spring pools below. Smith looks across the valley and jokingly says, “Oh look, there’s Andrew.” I glance across at the next mountain over, taking in the thick forest as it transitioned to the rocky hardscape.

“Oh my god. It is Andrew [Storm],” says Smith.

I look up again more closely and spot the half-naked man standing mountainside slowly moving upward.

“HEY! ANDREW!” bellows Smith.



The figure stops moving. I would assume he turned out toward us to see us, madly flailing our arms. We were still amongst thick brush and knew we’d be hard to see.



“OH! HEY!” Storm calls back, “IF I GO DOWN FROM HERE,” he says, pointing directly below him, “WILL I MEET UP WITH YOUR TRAIL?”



Smith and I look at each other, not just shocked that we’d seen him by such chance, but laughing at the fact that he’d ended up on the wrong mountain nearly 2 kilometers away.



“AHHH... NO MAN, I THINK YOU SHOULD JUST GO BACK THE WAY YOU CAME. AND WATCH OUT FOR BEARS!” hollars Smith. The echo of his message travels crystal clear through the mountain air.



“OH, OKAY. MEET YOU BACK AT THE BOTTOM THEN!” replies Storm.

And off we went.



It was over another hour before Smith and I made it to the top of the Sulphur Ridge, a 5km route ascending to 2070m. It was definitely a more aggressive hike than we’d anticipated, but the panoramic view at the top was entirely worthwhile. The air had chilled significantly, and soaked in sweat from the workout up, we couldn’t manage to stand in the cool wind for long. We did, however, get some great glamour shots with the local residents- incredibly friendly chipmunks eating sunflower seeds right out of our hands as if at an Ontario sideroad petting zoo.



As we started back shuffling down the shattered shale rock peak, we reached the beginnings of the mossy grasses to find Storm sitting and waiting, taking in the view.



“Well Hello!” I call out.

Storm looks up, still shirtless, but legs gashed up and sweat still dripping down his face,

“Hey guys!” he says cheerily.



“What are you doing here? Did you go down and then come back on the trail to here?” I ask.



“Ya man. The way up was brutal- I was not hiking. I was scaling rocks and grabbing trees to hold on. The way down was better, I skied the loose rocks and got down way faster. I figured I’d come meet you guys on this mountain,” Storm says.

“Wow,” we say, “Well you missed some great photo ops with the chipmunks.”



Our unanticipated mountain climb left us feeling like a hot spring dip was more than well-earned. Sitting in the middle of a valley 40 minutes off the main Jasper Park highway, the Miette Hot Springs were discovered in the late 1800’s, with timber-framed pools built soon after drawing locals and international tourists alike. Today the temperature was clocking in at 40 degrees celcius. We later learned that the supply temperature from the source spring was 54 degrees celcius. The deep smell of sulphur spread from the pools into the surrounding parking and trails, but once in the massive pools of source-fed (and cooled a tad) water, the smell was undetectable. Definitely the best hot tub, and largest, that I’ve ever been in.

We cooked up some hotdogs with hornbuck sheep tromping nearby all over the place and were back on the road by 5:30pm with Lion King blasting. The scenery was intoxicating. Aqua-marine blue waters gushing as icy rivers running amongst towering mountains draped in deep forest. The wildlife made several appearances and I got some postcard shots of a pair of caribou along a river at dusk.



We’ve made it to Kerkeslin, a quiet camp back-dropped by a fast-moving glacial river. Storm had to look up the name of this place on our park map by the crackling fire as I write, perched on a picnic table with an ice-cold Kokanee at hand. Not a bad blogspot.

Day 5: August 3, 2010 Saskatoon, Saskatchewan to Pembina River, Alberta

Day 5: August 3, 2010



Think of Saskatoon, a city of about 200,000, surrounded by sprawling prairies, a large native population and with the economy charged by potash mining and agriculture. Now imagine what a night out in Saskatoon could be like...



After a visit with Storm’s Aunt & Grandma on Williams Ave (homemade buttertarts included!), we cruised the 5 blocks to Allison’s house. A classmate from Queen’s, Allison moved out to Saskatoon in October 2009 working for Hatch Engineering and to engineer things potash mining-related. We checked in at the party hotel and soon found ourselves at a Broadway Street pub catching the tail end of Saskatoon’s Fringe Festival partying. Waiting at the pub was another Queen’s classmate, Ethan, who has been living the prairie life since graduating in 2008. Originally from Nova Scotia, Ethan seems to have settled in quite well and works as an engineer in agricultural equipment design. Having also met Allison and Ethan’s friends and roommates, it soon came to light that much of Saskatoon’s youthful population is drawn from the thousands of tiny towns across the province. These kids have moved to the big city to live the high life.



Joking aside, the night played out to be one for the record books. Keyed up for a more lively scene, we made our way to the Colonial, a stone’s throw from Allison’s place.



“It’s karaoke night!” says Allison.

Her roommate looks up at us and says, “It’s karaoke night every night at the Colonial.”

“I just joined a new league in town, too,” she goes on.

“Soccer?” I ask.

“Haha no, flip cup!” she says, “The Colonial is starting a flip cup league.”



Suffice to say if you ever go to Saskatoon, the Colonial is a must-see. A massive two-storey 80’s building commandeering a massive corner parking lot, the Colonial looks like a road-side rodeo pub with rooms for rent. Perched out front is Sailor Steve, an older man dressed in jeans and a white windbreaker holding a black and white canvas print of a sailing ship. With no more than a passing glance on our way in, Sailor Steve made no sales pitch. Maybe our ruffian appearance put us out of his target market, or maybe he’s just showing off his artwork to stumbling bar-goers. Never found out which...



With heavy wooden tables and chairs sprawled across the place, the Colonial looked a bit like the Brass in Kingston. Top 40 was pumping and the dance floor, yes dance floor, was dead empty, but would entice the euro dancer in all of us. Sitting between the saloon-style bar to the left and the billiards area to the right, the parquet d-floor featured glitzy lights and a live DJ/karaoke sign up. The glitzy lights were the kind you’d find at an asian electronic gadget store in a dying suburban mall.



We camped out next to the pool table and dance floor, with pitchers of the local Western brew flowing. Smith and Allison’s roommate, Jeff, were challenged to a game of pool by a Korean woman in her mid-twenties and a 50+ white man looking a lot like a vacationing Bill Clinton.

To the right, the dance floor had become the stage for the next karaoke performer- a 45 year old man in a faded blue polo t-shirt tucked into his jeans with crisp white sneakers. Halfway into his AC/DC set, I look over to see him rocking out- not just playing air guitar, but with a guitar hero guitar he had brought with him. Pressing the buttons while stomping around and head thrashing. Impressive.



My attention is quickly diverted back to the billiards area where Jeff and Bill Clinton seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement over a recent shot. Smith had already sat back down with us at the table and surrendered his interest. Things were getting heated, and we watched as the Korean woman rejoined her table next to us- a group of 4 twenty-something Korean guys.



As things get more heated between Jeff and Bill, Smith tells us the bets were being pushed higher- and that the Korean woman was the sharp shooter of the opposing team. Sinking shots when she needs to seal the win, but ‘accidentally’ missing to keep drunkards like Bill thinking they’re still in the game.



And that’s when we realized, the Koreans were a hustling squad, Bill Clinton was tom-fool number one, and Jeff was close to becoming their second slam dunk of the night. By this point there were mere inches between Bill and Jeff’s faces. The argument was over an interpretation of a basic rule of pool, so Bill decides he’s bring in an arbitrator. He treks to the entrance of the bar and comes marching back with the 6’2 bouncer.



“What’s goin on here?” asks the bouncer.

Bill and Jeff each make their pitch, dotted with slurred words and finger pointing, to which the bouncer says,

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Haha... Figure it out, boys. I’m not a mediator.”



Meanwhile, the dance floor is starting to pick up with an eclectic mix of people- the karaoke groupie girl in pumps and a mini-skirt, our guitar hero rockers, farm boys and a handful of gay couples.



“Oh yeah,” says Allison, “This place also serves as the local gay bar.”



Jeff and Bill have agreed to clear the table and play for double the original bet. Jeff turns to Allison,

“Hey, can I borrow some cash?” he asks.

“Oh common, I don’t know man,” replies Allison.

“Just believe in me!” says Jeff.

“Fine. But I don’t believe in you. I believe you’ll pay me back,” she says.



After taking our own turn on the dance floor and getting our fill of people-watching, we headed home from the Colonial: saloon, pub, restaurant, dance club, gay bar, billiard hall, hustle house, and karaoke hot spot.



After a morning run to check out the tree-lined streets of Toon Town on a breezy Tuesday morning, we were back on the road by 11:30am. That might be a TB (team best). The Gremlin is steering us to Edmonton, followed by loose plans to reach Jasper. We’ve hit more prairie storms, but Jack Johnson makes a great soundtrack for this verdant landscape.

And then I woke up in the parking lot of the behemoth centre-o-consumerism that is the West Edmonton Mall. Water parks, skating rinks, roller coasters, and every store imaginable- it was all pretty overwhelming. While in Saskatoon we’d heard of the roller coaster “With 6.5g’s man. It’s wicked,” so decided that would be our mall attraction of choice. Now it could be that I haven’t been on a roller coaster in a while, but wow did that thing ever take us on a ride. It was called the MindBender, and my mind wasn’t the only thing it bent. If you’re ever passing through Edmonton and want a roller coaster ride to remember, pay the $10 for this one. Just do it before lunch.



After our fill of mall madness, we headed west out of Edmonton to the crooning country tunes on Big West Radio with a real catchy slogan: “Just because we work at a country radio station doesn’t mean we sit around and drink all day.... it means we carry guns.” We camped the night at Pembina River Provincial Park en route to Jasper- a quiet, but jam-packed campground that did the trick for a place to hunker down.

Day 4: August 2, 2010

Day 4: August 2, 2010

Winnipeg showed us a lovely evening of blogging and taking in the City nightscape from my brother’s balcony. Having crawled into the ‘Peg under pouring rain, flooded streets, and a sky lit up with sheets of lightening, we were more than happy to take up David’s offer a place to crash and have a hot shower.


Thanks to Smith’s sense of Canadiana and appreciation for history, we made the 2 block trek from David’s apartment to the Manitoba legislature this morning. Between the photo shoots with Louis Riel and Queen Vicky, and handstands on the manicured lawn, it was “a good stop to make,” just as the TripAdvisor website promised in its “Things to do in Winnipeg.”



We were back on the road by 12:00pm, showing little improvement in our ability to “hit the road by 8am, like real adventurers” (according to Grandpa Gibbs). Worse still, we hadn’t yet looked at a single real map of Winnipeg. We were completely relying on the Gremlin, who has been known to have us turn left, only to direct us to turn left twice more in a 1 block radius. As we get into the car, “Next stop? Vancouver!”



Freshly showered (“Ya guys, like, we’re clean enough that could go into a restaurant right now,” says Smith) we did make our way out of Winnipeg and it’s Bluebomber donuts. Mos Def and K’naan are now keeping us an intimidating-looking bunch as we transition into the prairie landscape of Manitoba. Smith taught us all about Stephen Hawking’s most recent theories, Storm told a mediocre Scottish-at-the-bar joke, and we all agreed life is better without a car (except when you’re driving it across your country.)

We’re relieved to see an end to the Ontario-wide religious billboard campaign. They seemed to pop up every 150-200km. As yet another biblical highway preaching appeared on the horizon, Smith joked in a cheery voice “And what message does Jesus have for us today?”



The Saturn has been a real doll so far- not a problem to speak of, despite the fact that we celebrated her 300,000th birthday today. Smack dab in the highway-heart of Brandon, Manitoba, 299,999km rolls over and the 300,000 party began (conveniently right in a rest station parking lot). It’s like the Saturn wanted us to celebrate in true westerner tailgating style.



Back on the road, we’re creeping up on another prairie storm. Just as we were entering Manitoba, Smith says “I really hope we see a prairie rainstorm.” Within hours it was pouring and the sky lit with lightening as we arrived in Winnipeg. After that he says, “Well this is cool, but it would be great to see one in the daytime.” En route to Saskatoon via Regina, we just hit with another downpour, distracting us from the “Welcome to Saskatchewan” sign. We’ll have to rely on the locals to make us feel welcome instead.



We pulled into the sprawling city of Regina and headed straight for the Saskatchewan legislature- another grandiose building, easily one-upping Queen’s Park. Too impatient to wait for a tour (Saskatchewan is apparently more restrictive about their legislative building access policies than Manitoba), we strolled the front gardens instead. Sitting at the head of the long garden was a statue of Queen Lizzy, riding atop Burmese, her favourite horse. If you’re in the market for a quality horse, worthy of Royal preference, head to Fort Grey, Saskatchewan. Burmese was born and raised in Fort Grey and was presented to the Queen by the RCMP in 1969.

Our Gremlin took us next to the Rough Ryders territory- seemingly not the best part of town, but an awesome stadium to see. Plunked down in the middle of an industrial yard and bordered by questionable housing, the stadium towers over its neighbourhood. Pulling out of the empty stadium lot, we came to a stop sign where an older woman, easily in her 90’s, waved us through from her gold 80’s Cadillac, adorned with a flashy Ryder’s licence plate. What we saw of Regina was pretty and quiet, but I can’t say that I’m surprised to see the community rally around something so passionately- Regina didn’t appear to have much else going for it.



While texting with friends living in Saskatchewan to arrange a provincial-visit rendezvous, we noticed that our phones were now an hour forward.

“Did we just cross another time zone?” I ask. “There was no sign....?”

Smith and Storm checked their phones, and since all of our phones showed it being an hour earlier, we decided it must be.

With growling stomachs at 8pm, we made a fly-by decision to stop in Craik Municipal Park and Campground, in Craik, Saskatchewan. Veering off the long, straight highway 1, we were sceptical of seeing a “park” pop up somewhere along this seemingly infinite horizon. Buried in a small valley amongst some sparse shrubbery, the teen-aged girl working the camp “gatehouse” saunters over to our car, “Hi. What can I do for you?” she asks.



“Hey, we were looking to cook up some dinner and maybe go for a dip and then get back on the road again,” says Smith.



“Ok, it’ll be $5 for a day pass,” she replies.



Still sceptical of there being a naturally-occurring body of water nearby this park plunked down in the middle of prairie fields, I interject,

“For the swimming, it’s not like a pool, is it?”

“Ah yes, it’s a pool,” she says, confirming my suspicion.

Hunger prevailed. We were cooking the dogs- lake to swim in or not.

“Have you been here before?”she then asks.

“Ah, no, no we haven’t.”



I developed a newfound appreciation for the prairie life as we enjoyed grilled dogs with the golden summer sun setting and the endless stretch of fields. Stopping to use the washroom on our way out, we came across the ‘pool,’ a dark brown blob-shaped concrete basin. And it would cost $4 to swim.



We’re enjoying the famed prairie sunset to some classic Hip tunes, discussing the difference in deer warning signs from province to province,



“Ontario’s is prancing, Manitoba’s has antlers and is charging, and Saskatchewan’s is somewhere in between,” concludes Storm.

“So Bonita,” Storm says, “Has the day lived up to your anticipation and excitement from this morning?”

Reflecting on the happy-go-luckyness of a day crossing two provinces, with spectacular scenery, new cities, and ever-changing weather, I can’t say I was disappointed.

“I’m normally a big time planner. So this going somewhere with no real immediate plan stuff is new to me, but I like it,” I say, to which Storm replied,



“ If you don’t have somewhere to be, you can never be late.”

Celebrating 300,000 between Brandon and Regina

Manitoba Legislature

"THE" Stadium. Sask Rough Ryders

Saskatchewan Legislature

Craik Municipal Park (en route to Saskatoon). Doubtful something will appear amongst the nothingness.

Dinner at Craik

Day 3: August 1, 2010 Rainbow Falls, ON to Winnipeg, MB

Day 3: August 1, 2010



Despite out plans to hit the road early like true adventurers, we slept right through the wee morning hours and took our time packing up. With a quick run in the bush and a morning dip, followed by bacon and cheese toasted sandwiches, I couldn’t have asked for a better morning. The car is packed up, the people loaded in, and Storm says:

Next stop: Vancouver!


The views continue to be breathtaking- almost exotic. And this is all ours... what an awesome landscape. We rolled into Thunder Bay with little fanfare, and took the turnoff into the downtown area. While getting some ‘morning’ coffee (it was 3pm) we realized we hadn’t seen any signs directing us to the Terry Fox memorial statue. This was a must-see, not only because it’s an oversized Terry (unless he actually was that tall, in which case it’s no wonder he could cover a marathon distance each day), but because of what it meant to each of us as Canadians. I approached some locals to inquire,



“Hi, are you from Thunder Bay?” I ask.

“Yes, yes we are,” replies the middle-aged couple.

“We’re looking to get to the Terry Fox statue, what would be the best way to get there from here?”

“Are you coming from east or west?” the wife asks.

I hadn’t yet bought my coffee and was clearly struggling for a brief moment.

“Are you from Toronto... or Alberta?” she tries again.

“Toronto. Yes, Toronto.” I laugh. What made her guess Toronto? That unto itself is a reminder of why I’m headed westward and abroad...


That’s two for two on getting reliable directions at a Tim Horton’s. While in Sudbury and looking for the giant nickel (which didn’t make the cut under “attractions” on the Garmin, our GPS), we got directions from the Tim Horton’s lady, Shirley. She said we should turn out the driveway and take a left, meanwhile we spotted a local City sign pointing us right. We made the mistake of doubting Shirley and turned right. The Sudbury Sign Committee fooled us.... we were taken on a curvy route through the town centre only to find ourselves a mere 50m from where we started, headed what would have been “left.” Trust Shirley.



With directions to Terry in hand (turns out we had missed the statue completely and had to backtrack eastward to visit this awe-inspiring monument), we found the Terry Fox Memorial viewpoint.



As we loaded up on groceries for the long-weekend closures on Monday, we sketched together a high level plan for the next 24 hours. This was unusual. There is something to be said for waking up, getting into the car, and just seeing where you end up. Stay if you like it. Hit the road if you’ve seen enough. I won’t pretend like this wasn’t a challenge for me, but so far it’s worked in our favour. We’re able to appreciate the drive, the music, the roads, the scenery, and the animals. We did have out first moose spotting today- between Rainbow Falls and Thunder Bay. He traipsed through the field no more than 40m from the highway. No we only need to see one more to say we’ve seen Meese.



Once back on the road from Thunder Bay, we felt the temperatures climb... and it was cloudy. With Lake Superior fading behind us, we anxiously watched for the prairie transition. While we missed the arctic watershed sign (where water starts to flow north instead of south) we did make it to the Time-Zone- Change-rest area. It was 4:30pm when we pulled in and we had another 5-6 hours ‘til Winnipeg... so the extra hour was the golden ticket we needed as far as this day’s “schedule” goes.


Storm is learning new tricks on the manual stick shift (namely not holding down the clutch when sitting and stopped), Smith is reading up on the CAA atlas (our only ally when the Garmin GPS becomes a Gremlin), and I’m playing DJ while on moose-watch.


Winnipeg- here we come!