So today was my first big tour day. Our guide, Wes, picked me up at the house at 8:30. A couple from Edmonton was already riding so I hopped in shotgun and we headed out to pick up the other two people in our group, taking a short detour to check out the base of the Whistlers Mountain Tramway. There’s a lift thingy that can take you up to the coffee house and trails at the summit, but I might try to climb it before I leave, on Thursday maybe if its nice out.
I was really excited for this tour because we drove partway down the Icefields Parkway on our way to the Athabasca glacier, and upon mentioning to people that I was headed to Jasper I was informed I must drive down “the most beautiful road in Canada”, but hey, NO CAR. Anyways, I was thrilled that I would get to see at least a portion of it from the tour van. On a side note, the wheels-less situation hasn’t been nearly as bad as I was afraid of. The major tour companies in town all run frequent shuttles to a lot of the major areas you’d want to go, so I should be set.
Most of the mountains were obscured by low-hanging clouds when we set out, but they were starting to clear off by the time we got to our first stop at the Athabasca Falls. Wes was awesome and explained how the canyons had been formed by glacial run-off carving out the layered limestone in both its liquid and frozen states, and pointed out all the species of wild-flowers along the path. Wildflower season is just coming to an end in the valley, but its only beginning in the alpine, so hopefully I’ll get to check those out if I go up Whistlers. I’m in love with the colour of the mineral-rich water here, its like all the postcards of the Rockies I’ve ever seen, but never witnessed with my own eyes. It’s the biggest You Are Here marker I could ask for.
As we drove on it just got more and more unbelievably beautiful. Wes named every peak we passed. but the only one I remember now is a ridge called the Endless Chain, because it was just that- this huge, towering, unbroken chain of peaks to our left. We passed the Athabasca Flats, where caribou congregate in the winter, and hey, we saw some elk! Their official name is Wapiti, meaning “he of the yellow rump” because they have lighter fur there. Would I make this stuff up?
We pulled over at a viewpoint looking out onto the largest snowpack in North America perched atop Mt. Kitchener, a giant glacial bowl, Mount Athabasca, Mount Andromeda, Mount Snowdome and the Flats. I can honestly say I have never been anywhere as awe-inspiring in my life.
Next stop was the Columbia Icefields Centre, where we would meet our bus to take us up to walk on the glacier. It was another great spot for pictures so we spent some time snapping while Wes picked up our tickets.
That big patch of white is the Athabasca Glacier
This is the sort of vehicle they used to take people out onto the ice with
Another tour bus took us up to the lot where we got into this crazy all-terrain Ice Climber that the American Government uses to transport scientists in Antarctica to go down the “steepest un-paved commercial road in North America”, as our nutty driver, a retired accountant from Japan, yelled as we went almost perpendicular to the way gravity wants you to go. Being out on the glacier wasn’t like, super exciting. You had to be either a pro or part of an ice walk group to leave the safe, smoothed down area where we parked. The views were incredible however, and I got to fill up my water bottle with glacial run-off. Have to say, it tasted pretty amazing. Local legend says drinking it makes you feel ten years younger. Dunno if those were ten years I care to relive, since I’m finally here after all, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
It won’t be possible on this trip, due to lack of cars, equipment and friends, but some day I want to come back and hike to the top of Mt. Athabasca through the snow bowl. Actually, just being in the mountains makes me want to climb everything in sight. I will definitely be coming back here some day with rope, wheels and a few intrepid pals. Taking the train out and now seeing this… I haven’t even come close to seeing all of the amazing things there are to see within our borders, but I’m still so proud and grateful to call this amazing country home.
These were the vehicles we took out onto the ice. Standing beside it, I barely came to the top of the wheel well
Didn’t get a chance to go rafting today, as Wes likes to be thorough and the tour ran late. I’m really excited to do my tour of Maligne Lake and the wildlife walk tomorrow, and I’ll post about that as soon as I get the chance. Love and hugs from the most beautiful place on Earth!
click to see me big
So after a first night of gourmet burgers, magic tricks and sleepiness with Melissa and Ryan, I spent my first morning poking around town and screaming MOUNTAINS every time I looked up. Mentally screaming, that is. I’m not that tourist. I started out with a quest for coffee and then just wandered around poking my head into shops. Grabbed lunch at an Italian place I had a coupon for. Maybe it’ll grow on me, but so far eating alone in restaurants is my least favourite part of the trip.
With the coupon, lunch ended up being like, 3 bucks, and I think I have officially achieved broke backpacker level frugality, cause I ate half and got them to pack me up the rest for tomorrow. Win! I planned to go for a short little hike in the afternoon but after stopping in at the Parks Office and seeing all the bear warnings I realized that I needed to be a little more prepared. I read some guidelines on my phone over lunch- my personal favourite was the bit about how if you encounter a bear and it sees you but isn’t immediately aggressive, you should back away slowly, waving your arms so you look bigger, and “speaking calmly but firmly” so it can identify you as a human. And that’s all well and good, but because I’m me my first thought was, what would you even SAY. I know it doesn’t MATTER, like you could recite your grocery list or your five times tables, it will (presumably) make no difference. But what would occur to you in that moment? Like, would you say a prayer calmly and firmly in it’s general direction and hope it helped in both an immediate and not so immediate sense, or like, launch into a monologue?
“Hiya bear. Wow, you’re big. Uh… Waving my arms… Human, see? Not threatening. Nooooot going to bother you, this is all a misunderstanding. But wait, also not a pushover! I am not easy prey! Very bad prey! Loud! Annoying! Uncooperative! Bony! So ya, not threatening but also not easy! My ancestors made yours into really ugly rugs! Well, sort of. My ancestors are actually from Europe. Do they have bears in Scotland? Wait, the mom in Brave turned into a bear! Guess they do have bears. My ancestors most likely turned your ancestors’ Scottish cousins into rugs. So… watch out! But don’t be scared. Actually please just go away. Oh god I hope I don’t trip over a log…”
Ya… I would probably launch into a monologue. What would you say calmly and firmly while backing away from a bear?
Mostly bears just don’t like being surprised by humans, which is fair as humans mostly don’t like being surprised by bears. Thus I made it my goal to be the most obnoxiously noisy and therefore unsurprising hiker Jasper has ever seen. Since I’m here for a week and didn’t exactly want to gain a reputation as “that chick who sings and talks to herself in the woods” my first investment was a bear bell for my pack. You’ll feel a bit like a reindeer at first, but seriously, the more irritating the jingling is, the safer you are.
Then I bought some bear spray. Bear spray is not based on the same principles as bug spray, contrary to the lady in front of me in line at the store’s apparent beliefs. Think super-ouchy pepper spray for something that’s standing 15 ft away from you. I’m thinking its one of those things that as long as you have it, you’ll never need to use it. They got me to sign a couple forms and give them a bunch of info and then they gave me a short lecture on how it is considered a weapon in the province of Alberta and how if I spray it at people or domestic animals I am in big big trouble. Weirdly empowering. And finally I replaced the whistle that I totally forgot to pack.
I wanted to start off my trip with a short hike that Melissa suggested up to Old Fort Point to get some great views of the Athabasca River and back into town. After a super minor misadventure that resulted in my having a totally unrelated phone conversation with my mother while picking 20 billion burrs off my leggings on the side of the Trans-Canada highway, I set off on the trail, bear bell a-jingling and promptly saw a totally jaw-dropping view of the river. It’s funny, in all my exploring and stocking up and obsessing, I sort of forgot that being in Jasper meant being in the land of postcard views. Pines and rock and rushing turquoise river water- one of those moments that slugs you and makes you appreciate where you are.
The hike up to the viewpoint was mostly stairs, with every landing giving an ever-better view. The loop back down wound through the woods in a way that was differently gorgeous. It was pretty wooded and not overly far from the warning areas, so I clapped my hands together a few times every 30 ft or so. At one point I heard some rustling after not having seen anyone for a good long while, and going with the better-safe-than-sorry approach I belted out the chorus to Sweet Child of Mine, only to come around a corner and straight into about 20 very confused French tourists. Oops.
Hour 40- Portage la Prairie, Manitoba
Truly in the prairies now- wheat, canola, grain elevators (of both the new and old schools) and general flatness, the whole shebang. You know when places look exactly how you expect them to? My only exposure to the prairies before now was gained from reading Who Has Seen the Wind when I was about 12 and Little House on the Prairie when I was maybe 8, but I have to say, it measures up to my rather dubious information, right down to the last swooping meadow lark and faded clapboard farmhouse.
Canola must be in season because quite a few of the fields we’re passing are full of bright yellow flowers that resemble the one on the front of my oil bottle back home. It’s quite pretty, and there’s lots of little ponds along the track with ducks and even the occasional beaver lodge.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is the world’s largest can of Coca Cola
Travelling alone means getting thrown in with other singletons at meals (standing with the people you want to sit with doesn’t help, the waiter totally just points and sends you to random seats and they look at you like you just flipped over a table if you make a half-hearted attempt to seat yourself), so I ended up eating lunch with a retired surveyor named Robert, an elderly guy who asked to be called Skip and the sole other person in my general demographic to be found on the train- Owen who writes crime fiction. I learned a lot more than I ever knew there was to know about the America’s Cup (it’s a sailing tournament, for example). Tried out the shower again after lunch and I can confirm that the drain does indeed open on to the track. It’s a bit breezy. I think I have my sea-legs or rail legs or whatever. I even appear somewhat sober now when walking down the halls.
And now I’ve re-installed myself in the dome car to write and watch the fields pass some more.
Hour 44– SASKATCHEWAN
It’s sort of alarming how little I can do in a day and still be tired. I have seriously sat still and drank coffee for two days straight, I have no right to yawn. I went to see the guitarist play again and bought a CD because 1) it’s good stuff and 2) after following someone around and becoming their number one fan, seeing as they’re the most exciting thing going on at the moment and you’re tired of reading, one feels sort of obliged to.
His name’s Victor Nesrallah by the way, check it out- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHYdmOYg1QI
It’s funny, after being forced to spend so much time together with strangers, you really start to notice other people’s habits. We all sort of have our spots, and there are people who always claim the same seats in the dome car, some who always stay in their bunks, etc. Some of them even manage to arrive only when their seats are free in a way that indicates supernatural abilities. And the fact that I am noticing all this let’s you know that I am just about ready to get off this train.
Hour 54- Can’t tell, it’s dark
I ate dinner with Owen, Robert, and the pediatric dermatologist from the first day. I may not have moved in any sort of significant way, but someone told me once that laughing really hard for 10 minutes is a respiratory workout equivalent to half an hour on the treadmill, and I laughed for about 4 times that so I figure I’m set.
Afterwards Owen and I headed to the very last car on the train (it was a pretty arduous journey considering how swervy the train got all of a sudden) which is this totally crazy 50’s style sitting room, pretty much. It tapers towards the back and it has a bar and these big, blue vinyl arm chairs and big windows. I felt a bit like I needed kid gloves, a cigarette holder and a Manhattan. It was a neat spot to watch the sun set. It was nice to hang out with someone in my general age range- everyone’s lovely but it begins to feel a bit like being at your parent’s dinner party, and I’m getting verrrry good at introducing myself. Victor (the guitarist) stopped by and we talked hitch-hiking and sports fanaticism. Hanging out back there as the sun went down and the country passed by was one of those “mhm, this is what backpacking across the country feels like” moments, the kind of moments travel writers write about. Wow, I’m finally having the sort of moments that people write about
Hour 64- Just Past Edmonton
I was up earlier than I have been since my kilt-wearing, trek-downtown-to-school days because the three small children and their mother with whom I was sharing my car were getting off when we pulled into Edmonton at 6 (thus the little guys were very excited very early). VIA decided to go all fancy (I’m reading it as cheap) and serve brunch today instead of breakfast and lunch, it being Sunday and us being ultra-classy train passengers. Oh man, I forgot to tell you about my minor heart attack the first night when I overheard two people discussing whether it would be mandatory to dress up for dinner. I was wearing a flannel shirt and my other option was a hoodie, so I immediately had visions of munching on trail mix in my bunk at dinner hour. But not to worry, they were just keen. Plaid was very in, in dining car B.
I spent the first few hours of the day hanging out with Edith and her mother (the two I ate lunch and dinner with on Day One) in the activity car, they’re lovely and the first of my train friends. Later I tried to find my way back to my car but they added new ones in Edmonton so everything got confusing and I missed it by a mile. Yes, I got (slightly) lost on a train, land of two directional options.
They added a new dome car, one that’s not up a flight of stairs like the first, as well. We were all like small animals with a new rock dropped in their territory- nosing around and walking through a couple times before settling down and adopting it as our own. I’m getting psyched for the mountains now. The land is getting just a bit more hilly, the trees are getting just a tad more tall and wild looking. Maybe its the caffeine or the forced confinement, but I can’t sit still. The whole world is right out there and I want to see all of it.
HOUR 68- SO CLOSE
We hit the mountains with a startling suddenness. Out of nowhere, the trees were immense and ragged and wild, there were waterfalls and rapids and peaks on the horizon. We wound our way along the Athabasca and I swear if felt like finding the freaking promised land. I know I love mountains, I know on an intellectual level how they make me feel every time my Ontario born-and-raised self is dropped in their midst, but the way suddenly finding myself rocketing between them after all this time and preparation felt is something I can’t explain. Well, I could, but it would be way cheesy and something no one needs to read. With delays, we’re about two hours out of Jasper now, and I sure hope I remembered to pack my stuff this morning because there is no way I am tearing myself away from this window until we pull in.
One of the reasons I’m glad I did this trip by train was that you can really feel the distance traveled, more than flying for example. When you fly, you just up and transplant yourself to this whole new place and on a deeper level you can’t quite fathom how you came to be there, even when logic is making sense of it. On the train you watch the miles flicker by, you see and feel every field and hamlet and bumpy stretch of track along the way. It actually feels like I have crossed a country, I can visualize the vast inbetweens and appreciate that I am really, really far from home.
Hour 70- Jasper, Alberta
I made it, I’m here. Melissa is meeting me in the station, and people are moving so I have to get going. More to come!
Update– I didn’t have a chance to post this last night, but I met Melissa and her boyfriend Ryan and we hung out and made dinner and it was fabulous. I’m going to do some exploring in town today, and do a short hike to what I am told is an awesome view. It’s about 8 degrees Fahrenheit here, and I’m slightly regretting my shorts-to-pants ratio but all part of the adventure, am I right? Hugs to you all!
Hour 0- Toronto
Holy cow, I am on the train. Which means this is actually happening. What.
Let me tell you, if you’re ever crazy enough to opt to travel by Via Rail for 74 hours, book yourself something called a lower berth (I mean, unless you actually have money, in which case by all means, book yourself a cabin). I’m sitting in this little cubby that’s all bed, with a heavy duty curtain on one side and a big window on the other. There’s a fluffy duvet and two pillows and some shelves for my bags. I’m sure I wouldn’t be nearly as enthused if I was claustrophobic, but as is, it feels like I’m in this warm, safe, cozy little shoebox hurtling across the country in the footsteps of all the adventurers and seekers of new lands and better futures who came before me. I have to say, I’m a fan.
We’ve started moving and everyone’s settling down, so I’m going to curl up in my duvet and listen to sad songs and stare out the window and the stars. I can’t wait to wake up somewhere I’ve never been before.
Hour 11- Land of the Silver Birch, Home of the Beaver
They stop serving breakfast at 8:30 and seeing as I haven’t been conscious much before 10:30 lately I was really paranoid that I would miss it. I also didn’t want to set an alarm in case the other occupants of this small rail car ecosystem were unappreciative, so I left my blind open with the hopes that I would be gently awoken by the rising sun.
As it were, I woke up in a wait-this-isn’t-my-bed panic at 7:50 to overcast skies making the Boreal forest look extra primordial. I ate breakfast with a grade one teacher who was heading home to Prince George and a pediatric dermatologist from Kingston who was on her way to visit family in Vancouver. Being on a long-haul train is sort of like being back at summer camp. A really skinny, tubular summer camp where everything is made of plastic and 85% of the campers are middle-aged couples or adults and their elderly mothers. Anyways, there’s no WiFi or cell reception, everyone’s really friendly and pretty much every conversation starts with “So where are you from?” and, contrary to my metaphor, then progresses to “And where are you headed?”.
After breakfast I installed myself in the glass dome car which is on the second level of the lounge/games room area. It’ll be pretty amazing up there once we get into the mountains, but even where we are is beautiful. I realized, this is the most remote I have ever been in my life, in fact, I have no idea where we are in any way more specific than “the wild”, and that’s pretty cool. The forest is glorious. The train runs really close to the water, and we’ve past all the lakes and marshes and peat bogs and skinny trees that I’ve read about. I spent some time reading (I’m working on This Side of Paradise) but more time than I thought possible just staring out the window. It sort of hit me more than ever before exactly what I’m doing, and it’s pretty special, crossing the whole country on the train. Feeling very lucky indeed.
Hour 14- Still Pretty Much Nowhere
I started feeling a little stir crazy and they were making the first calls for lunch (I got to the station a little late so I ended up with the last meal slot reservation, at 2 and at 9, so I’ve been hording the fruit they have around and dipping into my trail mix) so I decided to try out the shower.
The shower room is actually pretty decent, barely reminiscent of an airplane bathroom at all. I am used to showers being pretty stationary affairs, however, so there was a bit of banging into the walls. It may have been my imagination, but it sure looked like the drain opened right onto the track, I could just about see rail ties flickering by under my feet. Very adventurous, as showers go.
Hour 22- West of Hornpayne
Did you know that musicians can apply to travel on VIA Rail for free, providing that they agree to play two forty-five minute gigs a day? It’s a fun and really cheap way to tour and it makes for cheap entertainment. Long story short, I got to sit in the activities car and listen to a Lebanese-Canadian artist (whose name I will look up when I next have a chance) from Ottawa play acoustic guitar and sing about civil war and AIDs victims and old family photographs while we chugged along through the Canadian wilderness.
Dinner was great, the food definitely surpasses my expectations. Not overly surprising as my expectations were largely based off my dad’s egg salad fueled adventures crossing the country back in the day. I had quinoa salad for lunch and lentil quesadillas for dinner. Definitely looking forward to stopping in Winnipeg tomorrow, I want to go for a RUN.
Hour 37- Winnipeg
We crossed the border into Manitoba at about 5:30, and pulled into Winnipeg at about 8:30. I’m writing this on a bench in The Forks Heritage Park, looking out on to the Red River. It’s sunny and glorious out, so I spent some time rambling along the trails and down by the water, and checking out some of the wind sculptures and art installations they have tucked away all over the place.
Spotted: The 1999 Olympic Torch!
Also spotted: Five red foxes… weird right?
You are all going to make so much fun of me for all the pictures of baby ducks I took… yes, I am aware we have them at home. There’s a neat public market behind me where I’m about to head to grab a coffee before jumping back on the train, and I’ll post this as a Part One of my journey if there is indeed WiFi in the station as I was promised.
More Train Diaries to come when I arrive in Jasper tomorrow! Love and hugs y’all
SO, WHAT AM I DOING?
Today, instead of signing up for university classes or buying towels or selling outdoorsy clothing, I am headed west on Part One of my gap year adventures. At 10:00 tonight I am hopping on a train from Toronto to Jasper. From Jasper I’ll be headed for Vancouver, and from there to Victoria and Tofino, not necessarily in that order, but with the goal of being home at the start of October.
WHY AM I DOING THIS?
To make my parents cry.
Kidding. When I was twelve, I saw a movie called One Week, which for those of you who haven’t seen it (and I expect you to go watch it immediately) involves a man who is diagnosed with cancer riding a motorcycle across Canada. It is a stunningly gorgeous, national love letter of a film, and twelve year old me decided that, not only is Canada pretty beautiful and great, but also that the day I graduated from high school I would buy a used motorcycle and ride off into the sunset, preferably wearing my prom dress for dramatic effect. So I got a job at a mini-putt course.
Every summer and many, many weekends since then have been spent saving up for that trip, first handing out putters, then driving golf carts, then selling outdoors gear, and my dreams for it have evolved over time. My wild, adventurous, summer-long sea-to-sea road trip turned into a more international affair (that would be Part Two- Costa Rica) lasting the whole year between high school and university. And I put the motorcycle idea in my someday box, ’cause I still fall off my bike all the time. But lots of people have lots of dreams when they’re twelve, so why am I doing this?
“It’s only by stepping out of your life and your world that you can see what you most deeply care about and find a home.”
-Pico Iyer
I am taking a gap year because since age four my life has been largely dictated by a seemingly endless string of supposed-to’s. I’ve spent a lot of time doing what everybody thought I should be doing, which was not always what I thought I should be doing, but I figured it was more important if the grown-ups said it was.
Working hard to get the grades to go to school to get a job to buy a house to get married to have kids to make more money to send those kids to school- it’s the hamster wheel of life. And I want a break, a year to be unabashedly selfish and hop off the spinning wheel for a while. I want the space and the freedom to read and think and make things and wander. I want to do something wild. I want to go back to school with that sense of pure existence to hold on to and remind me that there are bigger things, and I am so, so grateful to have had the opportunities that are allowing me to do so and for all the people who have my back. I want to have stories to tell. I want to go on an adventure. Well congrats, twelve-year-old me, here we go!
The Wander Year 