Banff National Park, AB (Part 2 of 3)
Keep calm and ride on
By now, N. could drive this section of the Trans-Canadian Highway blind-folded; we made our way to a trailhead close to Castle Mountain.
May I take this opportunity to gripe about Canadian viewpoints? We can all agree that viewpoints, by definition, were places from which people may enjoy good views. And Banff, of course, had more than its fair share.
So it was with utter bafflement that N. and I have driven in the area and seen:
viewpoints from which the view did not merit a stop
viewpoints in which there were obstructions — trees, for example — that blocked the view
viewpoints that were invisible, i.e., in locations where we wished we could stop to enjoy the view but no space allowed for stopping
Sigh.
***
Tips on the trail app mentioned that the hike at Johnston Canyon was gorgeous — and a couple of guides at the Banff National Park Visitors Center had echoed the sentiment — and that the parking filled up quickly. Those facts together were enough to get us to make an effort to get up and ready later than I would have liked but earlier than N. would have preferred.
The parking lot at the Johnston Canyon trailhead (out-and-back, 7 miles) had an electronic counter, so after we got in, drivers behind us were helpfully informed that there were 147 parking spots left in the lot. The trail was crowded and the cause of the bedlam was easy to see: along the first part of the hike one could not escape the sound of the rushing Johnston Creek, which, despite officially having only a Lower Falls and an Upper Falls, included several random falls here and there given the melting snow. We could see evidence of the winter damage — perhaps an avalanche or two — in the fallen trees redirecting water flow. It was a beautiful day, and with the sun shining on the walls of the canyon and on the creek itself — we spotted a rainbow — the trail was gorgeous.
Up to the Upper Falls, the trail was paved and included guardrails — and I thought, wow, Parks Canada really cares about safety. After seeing a posted sign that expressly prohibited hikers from deviating from the trail because the area was an important nesting habitat for endangered black swifts — they liked waterfalls too — I realized that the guardrails were there not to protect people but to protect black swifts from people.
Mercifully, once we continued beyond the Upper Falls, the crowd thinned considerably; the trail was now soft packed dirt but gained some challenging elevation. It didn’t help that I had overcompensated for that time in the Catalina State Park (when we didn’t have enough water and had to do with a magical orange) and brought our largest water bottle holding 64 ounces, which, I later found, weighed 4.164 pounds at room temperature, not counting the weight of the bottle itself. Hike on.
What Parks Canada called the “Ink Pots” were mineral springs that bubbled up from deep within the ground, eventually forming clear pools. Many posted signs prohibited hikers from deviating from the designated trails, but quite a few people decided to ignore them; some brought their dogs and allowed theim to cool themselves in the fragile pools. Grrr.
More than even the Ink Pots themselves which N. enjoyed photographing because they provided some mirror effect, we cherished the mountain views all around.
We ended the day with a stop by the Mount Norquay Lookout, where we were admiring expansive views of Banff Village until we were interrupted by a Mama Bear and her cub who, in turn, were rudely interrupted by a Parks Canada ranger who came in his van and honked his horn to get the bears to go back to the woods.
***
How do you describe those actions in which one bites — or bikes — more than one can chew? Confident? Foolish?
The visitor’s guides in Banff made a big deal of the fact that a small road parallel to the Trans-Canada Highway would be closed to cars in a Parks Canada pilot program from May 1 until June 25. The section of the Bow Valley Parkway — 17 kilometers or 10.625 miles — from Fireside to the Johnston Canyon would be for bikers only. Hey, who had 2 bikes and four thumbs? We did.
By the time we got to the parking lot off Highway 1 for the bike staging areas at 10 am, all five spots — only five — were taken. We had no choice but to drive back to Banff, park our van in the train station, and bike the five miles from there to the beginning of the Bow Valley Parkway.
From Banff, we first hopped onto the Vermillion Lakes Drive, which offered lovely views of the lakes and the mountains behind them. The trail slopped gently up and down and took us through three gates — I saw a faded sign that referred to them as “Texas gates” — which were designed to keep wild animals out of the highway. By the time we got to the very fancy sign at the beginning of the Bow Valley Parkway, I was tired and hot and sticky. Just 25 more miles to go.
There was an unbelievable sense of freedom in riding on the road without worrying about getting hit by cars. We were able to focus on the views around us: on the thick dark green stands of pines and on the high gray peaks above; the skies were blue, with whispers of white clouds that barely held back the heat of the sun. It was about 80 degrees. Lots of other bikers were enjoying the road, the athletic spandex-ed ones treating the ride as a workout in seemingly impossibly thin tires, and the older crowd with their e-bikes zipping along. Upon seeing us, all of them slowed down just a smidgeon, looked at what our daughter called our “clown bikes” and had either of 2 looks on their faces:
“What cool bikes!” and a few told us so
“What in the world are those things?!?” but these sentiments they kept to themselves
The one mystery I could not solve was how the road ahead looked as if it was going downhill but I had to pedal like a madwoman to get moving. It was a cruel optical illusion.
At one point, with a trio of bikers close to us, another pack of bikers coming the other way stopped and reported seeing a black bear on the road. N. exchanged pleasantries with the guy whose final greeting was, pointing to me, “Well, you better pedal faster than her!” Gulp. N. then addressed the trio going our way, “You ladies go first; we’ll follow you…” They laughed in response and went ahead of us. We didn’t see the bear but caught some big horn sheep crossing the road.
It was past noon, the heat was relentless, and the road just kept going uphill. At one point, visual evidence finally matched reality and left no doubt of the incline on the road; even bikers on race bikes were inching their way up. N. and I, in our small 16-inch wheels, finally decided it would be smarter to put pride aside, get off our seats, and push the metal contraptions uphill, because the other option was busting a gut, a lung, or a heart, or a combination of the three. By the time we arrived at our destination at Johnston Canyon — the very same canyon we had hiked yesterday — we were pooped and had no idea how we would make our way back.
But never underestimate the power of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, apples and oranges. And Gatorade — lots and lots of Gatorade. Our only consolation heading back was that a trail reviewer had mentioned that the Bow Valley Parkway from Johnston Canyon towards Banff was easier because it would be downhill. Considering the trail we had just ridden, I took comfort in the expectations. It was not until we were able to simply coast downhill that N. and I looked at each other and were amazed at our own efforts: did we really pedal that uphill section on the way out? We must have, since we were now just letting gravity do all the work.
Besides admiring the mountains — which looked different in this direction — we saw evidence again of the Canadian penchant for non-view lookouts, with a viewpoint carved in a spot with trees blocking the view — boo! — and another by the Bow River for which the parkway was named — yeah!
Today’s bike ride: 30 miles = 50 kilometers. I preferred the latter since it appeared that we accomplished more in the metric system.
Keep calm and ride on.
The gods did not think the day was exciting enough, so while we were riding back near the Vermillion Lakes, my mother called me with serious technical issues: she couldn’t get her computer to turn on her browser; her beloved YouTube was gone. So I talked an 81 year-old through the motions of resetting her computer, opening and dragging a browser page, putting it on full screen, and turning on an app. It only took 46 minutes and 9 screenshots. Perhaps I should work on my tech support certification.
Keep calm and tech on.
***
There was no way we were going to do anything that required the use of leg muscles today. We opted for a scenic drive.
First Stop: Cascade Ponds, which was a good possibility for hammocking — lovely lakes circled by trees and mountains, but what other possibilities might there be?
Second Stop: Two Jack Lake, which had a decent lake but not a particularly lovely parking lot for our purposes.
Third Stop: The best view was not at one of the official viewpoints for Lake Minnewanka — why, oh why? — but a toilet stop — a toilet stop! — before we reached the day-use area.
