Saturday
A leisurely day, driving along the Icefields Parkway, a highway running up to Jasper, with breathtaking views of jagged mountains, glaciers and the mighty Athabasca River. We spot our first black bear, ambling by the side of the road, and explore two roaring waterfalls.
Picking up supplies in Jasper, only after hopping across the deserted railway tracks does Rhys point out the sign: Criminal Prosecution for Trespassing.
Our forest chalet is 40 minutes drive north of Jasper.
Sunday
A landslide has blocked the road to the Sulphur Skyline Trail, so we take a short drive into Hinton for the Beaver Boardwalk Trail. The busy little engineers have built wood and mud dams to seal off all the water channels at one end of the lake, creating a protective barrier for their lodge, where they sleep during the day.
Monday
The Skytram cable car carries us almost to the summit of Whistlers Peak at 8,081 feet.
We still have 2,600 feet of climbing to the Indian Ridge Summit, first descending into a beautiful green valley and then up to the rocky peak at 9,250 feet. The path crosses a steep scree slope requiring careful footing.
There’s no shelter from the wind.
The views are spectacular, despite the grey clouds rolling in.
The path vanishes about 300 feet from the top, replaced by scrambling over loose rock. Hayley wisely chooses to rest and enjoy a sandwich, watching Rhys and I push on. I’m outside my comfort zone, clinging onto rocks with the slope plunging away beneath me.
About 100 feet from the summit, rain clouds approach, progress is slow, and the descent will be more difficult than coming up. I turn back. There are only three other hikers on the final climb and they all make the same decision. Rhys, of course, is determined to make the top and plant the flag.
Once I’m back with Hayley, I relax and enjoy the view, before the three of us make an easy descent, joining Jude and Max at the cafe next to the Skytram station.
The tram is delayed as someone was sick and the carriage needs to be cleaned. That sounds like a fun journey as they pack 25 people into a carriage, jammed shoulder to shoulder like sardines.
Tuesday
A rest day, with a gentle walk from our chalet through the forest to the Folding Mountain Brewing Taproom for board games and a couple of beers.
In the evening, I fancy the three-mile walk down to the river. There are no takers. Just me and my trusty bear spray then.
The initial walk is along rough roads before switching to a narrow track winding through the trees. There are steep banks on both sides and frequent blind corners. I’m conscious this is the only path down to the river, so begin singing a Neil Young song, not wishing to startle a bear coming in the opposite direction. The lyrics are mixed up but they fit my bullish mood.
Hey hey, my my Rock and roll can never die It's better to burn out than fade away Hey hey, my my
I reach the wide Athabasca River safely, cresting a huge sand dune that reveals the dense forest stretching away behind me, into which I must return after a brief paddle in the icy water.
It’s a little darker on the return journey. I sing louder. Turning a bend, I walk straight into the path of a black bear!
The bear turns its head away from me. My heart thudding, I back off slowly round the bend.
I start to sing at the top of my voice. After a few minutes, bear spray held out in front, I peek round the corner. The bear is just standing there. Bloody hell! This is the only route home.
I retreat and keep singing. After a few more minutes, I climb up the left bank and make my way through the trees to look down on the path. To my relief, it’s clear, although I don’t know if the bear has climbed out of the trail and into the forest or simply retreated. The next 30 minutes consist of belting out the song and much tentative peering round corners until, throat sore, I reach the safety of the open road.
There are only 90 black bears in Jasper Park over 4,335 square miles. How’s that for luck? Still, an encounter I’ll never forget and I am seeking adventure. Before anyone asks — I did not take a photo. Would you?
Wednesday
Another early start for a long drive to the relatively short Mount Edith Cavell Hike, with a hanging glacier and beautiful lake, into which chunks of snow fall and ripple out over the surface before melting.
Whistling marmots burrow among the rock piles.
Thursday
Rain is forecast for most of the day, but we drive down to the pretty Maligne Canyon Hike regardless.
On the journey home, we stop off at a sulphur spring.
The evening light is gorgeous under a moody sky.
Friday
Our last day and a leisurely drive to Berg Lake to view Mount Robson, the highest peak of the Canadian Rockies, at 12,972Â feet. We cross a time-zone from Alberta into British Columbia which is a little strange. The trail was devastated by a flood in 2021 and is still undergoing reconstruction, but we manage a short walk up to Kinney Lake.
Saturday
Our wonderful adventure is over as we head home, but one last grizzly encounter remains, viewed from the safety of the car. The park warden moved us on as the mother is a “problem bear”, meaning she is becoming used to human contact. The wild should remain wild.
Fabulous! We saw a few bears in the Rockies but mostly from the safety of the car. Shenandoah in the US is where we saw most including on the trail and near our cabin. They do seem as unkeen to meet us as we are them. And yes, John took pictures of the one near the cabin. Mad!
Better him than me! When I returned to the chalet I thought I should mention the sighting to reception. The chap was singularly unimpressed, pointing out that black bears are only interested in berries and a more fearsome grizzly was seen to the north. 🙂