Lake Louise – Canmore – Kananaskis Lakes – Cataract Creek – Crownsnest Pass – Fernie

On the 12th of June we leave the camp spot that we sneaked into at Lake Louise and set off for Canmore. We decided to take a rest day in Canmore where we found another Warmshowers host willing to host us.

Sixty lovely kilometers over a scenic route, that is partially closed to motorized traffic, follow.

Two road cyclists zip by us on one of the uphills and of course our competitive buttons get pressed immediately. We push our pedals hard to get into their wheel. We manage to stay there for about 30km into Banff. We drink a coke in Banff and enjoy the nice town with amazing backdrops of the Rockies.

When me and Jacko started planning our north-to-south route through the US we stumbled upon a thing called ‘The Great Divide’. An epic route through the Rockies connecting  Canada and Mexico, touching five large American states and two Canadian provinces along the way. That’s 4300km of gravel roads, dirt trails, small towns, rural ranchland, 45.000 elevation gain over mountain climbs, and a bit of pavement. We thought it would be a great idea to follow that route as long as it was doable with our heavily loaded touring bikes (most do it on mountain bikes). The trail starts in Banff and therefore today, riding towards our rest day in Canmore, we were going to do the first 30km of this trail.

It starts like a nice gravel route through thick forest. After 10km the road becomes worse and worse, gravel turning into coarse rock beds. A way too bumpy ride for our bikes. With every bump I fear for my bike, I fear the racks will fall apart, I fear the bags will rip. It’s just not made for these goat paths. Moreover the road is steep, super steep. We sweat, we curse, we walk up some of the steepest parts and we forget to look at the beautiful scenery. After 30km in hell the ride is over. After we reach the pavement again (hallelujah!) I notice something is missing at the back of my bike. My rain coat!! I strapped it on one of my bags but it must’ve vibrated off of the bike. Damnit! It is already late and we are close to our final destination so I decide to ride on to our Warmshowers host and make a decision there.

We are greeted by Toivo, our host and housemate for the coming days. He prepared dinner and we almost literally dive in because we are so hungry. During dinner I let him know my frustration about the lost jacket. He proposes that he will drive me back to the beginning of the trail to do the 30km back to Banff. Off I go again. I fill up one water bottle, take the panniers off my bike, put my other jacket on (it got chilly) and quickly grab the bear spray and my phone. We put the bike in the back of his car and he drops me off. I gently whisper to my bike that he has to undergo another beating and that I am sorry about that. Luckily the 30km back to Banff is mostly downhill. It is around 21h when I start cycling and the sun is already behind the mountains. I race down and try to make as much sound as possible screaming stupid things because I am afraid I will bump into a bear around every corner. Around the same corners I hope to see that green/grey jacket of mine, but the hope also diminishes after every jacket-less corner. After an hour or so I reach Banff. No jacket.

Toivo picks me up with the car. When we reach his house I have 120km and God knows how many elevation gain in my legs and I am tired as hell. I post messages on Banff Facebook groups about the jacket, but until this day it does not surface. I put my mind to rest by thinking that at least I either saved a bear or a human from the rain tonight.

The retired Toivo has an amazing house with incredibly large windows with incredibly beautiful views on the Rocky Mountains, many bedrooms, a garden and kitchen island. And he makes us feel like this it is our home now too. We get a private bedroom with plenty of room for us to let our bags explode. We cook, fix our bikes, do laundry, watch a Netflix serie on the couch and just do nothing for a bit. Oh yeah and also plan ahead for the coming days, because shit is about to get real with riding The Great Divide.

We set off and wave goodbye to Toivo. First thing is a massive climb where we put on 400m elevation gain with some 15% parts. Fortunately the gravel road is way better than the bumpy rock beds that we feared for. But it’s still gravel and it means that we have to spend more energy as for the same distance on pavement. Meanwhile the scenery is beautiful, rows of pine trees cover the hillsides, snow-capped mountains in front of us. While we’re having lunch next to the road a State Park pick-up stops and rolls the window down: “I just wanted to let you guys know that there’s a grizzly down the road. Stick to the right side of the road and you’ll be fine”. Fuck. There we go again.

Bear spray in hand and adrenaline in our veins we cycle on continuously scanning the roadside for activity. Than we see some cars stopped and we know what’s up. We approach and see a big-ass grizzly minding his own business. However the fact that grizzlies attack, kill and eat (!) humans does not make us feel more relaxed. After a while the grizzly crosses the road and disappears into the forest.  Safety clip can be placed on the bear spray again. Not much later we see a huge moose disappearing into the thick forest right next to us. Another mammal crossed off of our wildlife-bucketlist.

We sleep at Kananaskis Lakes. There are some campgrounds there and the lady at one of the trading post’s lets us have a free shower which feels really really great. We try to do what we normally do: sneak into the campground and hope nobody notices, but this time there’s some really eager campground managers and there’s no way around paying our first (!) campground fee together with some campfire wood (=40USD altogether).

The campground is covered with snow and it’s hard to get a spot with no snow. Some other guests walk by and tell us there’s been black bears around and about on the campsite so once again we’re careful with food and cooking. The night is cold and it’s hard to keep warm.

The Great Divide route continues over something that we call a hiking trail south from Kananaskis Lakes and is still covered in snow. We go and check it out but is definitely not ridable because of the thick layer of snow. We have to think about a detour. We decide to take the paved 40 East, then take the ‘Foresty trunk’ south (yes, that’s the same damned gravel road that Jacko had his crash on earlier in Canada) and after that go west again to meet up with The Great Divide in Fernie. I guess that’s what it takes to be a succesfull full-time adventurist (because that’s what I call myself nowadays): learning to cope with things that go not as planned and are out of your reach, learn to be flexible, think in solutions.

We cycle the 40 east, we go over the Highwood pass which is the highest pass we’ve climbed so far. We make pictures with our bikes in the snow with the sign saying “Highwood pass, 2206 meters”. A car stops over and warns us about two immense grizzlies he just saw, luckily we’re going the other way. At the end of the day we hope to do some needed groceries at a gas station which to our information should still be open but when we get there at 6:15PM the sign says that they’ve just closed at 6PM. Damn. Well, I guess we just have to put ourselves on the ration a little bit and finish our pasta and the bread leftovers we still have. We go south. Foresty Trunk road, we meet again. This time, the road however is much better: better gravel, no sticky mud. We enjoy a bit more. When we are nearing our planned destination it starts raining again. The campground we planned to camp at is a paid one and all the spots are still covered in snow. Not favorable. However we did see a ‘day use area’ just before turning into the campground and decide to check it out. It turns out to be a covered shelter with a cast-iron fire pit inside! Also known as: Heaven! With the rain worsening outside a decision is made quite easily: we’re camping here.

Although it’s not allowed to camp at ‘day-use areas’, we see no harm and also there is literally nobody out here. Fifteen minutes later we have the fire going, our clothes warming up next to the cast-iron and started to cook some spaghetti. We are out of water but there’s plenty of snow outside so we scoop snow into our cooking pans and heat it up over the stove to make water. We feel like Bear Grylls. Later on in the night it is dark, we watch a Netflix series on Jacko’s phone (Peaky Blinders!) and the setting is pretty tensive. Then suddenly outside three cars appear and pull up on the parking lot of the day-use area. (You have to imagine that the place we were camping at is pretty remote and we haven’t seen a car or a human as soon as we turned up on the gravel road.) What are these cars doing here? Is it a park ranger that will catch us red handed and send us into the cold night (we are not allowed to camp here and there’s smoke coming out of the chimney). Is it some shady drug deal taking place on this parking lot? We dim the phone, dim our head lights and get away from the windows. With one eye we peak through the windows to see what comes out of the cars. Then suddenly cheerful high voices erupt from the cars: a family with little kids and dogs get out of the cars and stretch their legs. The kids and dogs run around the parking lot. It must’ve been a family (or two) traveling for some hours in need of some fresh air. The build-up tension inside the cabin, sneakily watching from the windows, relaxes. We suddenly feel kind of guilty and creepy watching the family from inside the cabin, but we also don’t want to freak them out by exposing ourselves. So we just leave it as it is. The family drives off after ten minutes and we can catch a breath and continue watching our series. We sleep good, ’cause we’re dry and warm.

The next day is a tough one, because it is gonna be all gravel, 95km and 1000m altitude gain. We set off. Meet some fellow bikers on the road going the opposite way. The road is gravel but in kind off good shape. We reach our end goal and civilization: Crowsnest Pass. A name that could have come straight out of a Game Of Thrones or a J.K. Rowling book. There’s a pub, so we drink a beer. Or two. The sun shines on our face and it’s so nice to feel the heat of the sun again. We gain some ‘crowd knowledge’, as we like to call it, and ask around for (free) camping spots. People give us the name of a little park that’s close by. We go and check it out. While checking out the park and approving it for the night, I notice a car approaching us. A window rolls down and the face of a friendly woman of middle-age greets us: “Do you guys need a shower?”. “Uhm, yes sure!”. “Follow me!”.

We end up staying the night with a super friendly family. Valery, who took us in, introduces us to her (little bit surprised) partner Bryce and their kids Raleigh en Kinga. They are from Calgary but like to spend their weekends at their house in Crowsnest Pass in the midst of mountains and thus hiking, biking and canoeing opportunities. We get a hot shower, our own bedroom and a nice cozy Friday night with good conversation, beers and snacks. Next morning we want to make it to Fernie, which is along a highway and not too far away, and so we can take the morning of. After a bacon/egg/toast breakfast we go for a small scenic hike to waterfalls. In the afternoon we wave goodbye to the family with a full lunch bag provided by Valery.

The road to Fernie is uneventful (although we pass “the biggest truck in the world”). When entering the town we come across a brewery. People see us with our heavily loaded bicycles and start waving and cheering us on. Of course we pull over for a beer. We have nice conversations with different tables.

A lady asks us what it is we’re doing and where we’ll sleep tonight. We get offered a place to sleep, but we have to decline politely because we already booked a hostel for tonight. Later when checking into the hostel we hear that ‘somebody’ already paid for our stay. We know who and are amazed by the Canadian hospitality.

Next day is all about our border crossing into the US. We set off with loud country music and shouting USA! USA! USA! We are thrilled. A nice gravel road takes us into Elko, and from there it is a straight line over a highway to the border crossing in Rooseville. We are a bit worried about the bear spray that we carry, it was quite expensive. Also, we both don’t have the best experiences entering the US by plane (grumpy airport officers, interrogations).

When cycling up to the first border officer he happily greats us with a big smile and takes away all our worries. He even proposes to make a picture of us standing in front of the American flag, how nice! We fill out some forms and after half an hour we cycle into the United States of America! It marks the end of an amazing Canadian chapter of this trip.

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11 Replies to “Canada part III: Lost jacket, grizzlies & Canadian hospitality”

  1. Allemachtig Martijn, wat moeten jullie soms afzien en dan te weten dat ze in de Tour bij 11 kasseistroken al beren op de weg zien😊. Verrassend hoe gastvrij al die mensen zijn die jullie onderweg ontmoeten. Vraag me wel vaak af hoe sterk die fietsen van jullie moeten zijn. Ga je ervan uit dat je de hele rit op dezelfde fiets gaat halen?
    Wens jou en je fietsvriend een goed vervolg en kijk uit naar het volgende boeiende reisverslag.
    Hartelijke groet Kees en uiteraard ook van Jeanny.

  2. Allemachtig Marijn, wat moeten jullie soms afzien en dan te weten dat ze in de Tour bij 11 kasseistroken al beren op de weg zien😊. Verrassend hoe gastvrij al die mensen zijn die jullie onderweg ontmoeten. Vraag me wel vaak af hoe sterk die fietsen van jullie moeten zijn. Ga je ervan uit dat je de hele rit op dezelfde fiets gaat halen?
    Wens jou en je fietsvriend een goed vervolg en kijk uit naar het volgende boeiende reisverslag.
    Hartelijke groet Kees en uiteraard ook van Jeanny.

    1. Ha Kees! Ik hoop met deze fiets Argentinië te halen en anders koop ik wel een nieuwe (hoop dat ik dan wel al het goedkopere centraal- of zuid-amerika heb bereikt;))

    1. Hi Adventure Queenstown, thanks for keeping my jacket for 14 years (!). However I do think that by now it must be covered in mold and dust, so please throw it away! Kind regards, Martin

  3. Weer een prachtig spannend verhaal om te lezen , wat een gastvrije mensen in Canada en wat een prachtige omgeving daar. Gelukkig hebben de beren jullie met rust gelaten en zijn de fietsen nog heel gebleven !
    Kijk uit naar je volgende verhaal , geniet verder van jouw droomavontuur Marijn xxx

  4. Lets Go!
    Wat een adventure jongen. Episch. Knap en mooi.
    En afzien… 😉
    All the best for Every day on the bike!

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