Seventeen days and thousands of miles have passed. That’s a long time to be stuck with the same people. Surprisingly, to this point, nobody in the group has murdered anyone else. Scenery overload and road loopiness has definitely set in; things that would never be considered funny set everyone into giggle fits. There’s not much that can be done about either issue, the scenery overload continues as we begin our southward stab on the Yellowhead Highway toward the even more picturesque Promenade des Glaciers, better known as the Icefield Highway. And the loopiness? It’s much preferable to murder.

Well, maybe….

Anyway, more mountains pop up on all sides, again each one completely different than the rest.

Overwhelmed by the stunning deluge of imagery, my eyeballs go into panoramic overload, unable to completely process this total immersion in spectacular mountain majesty. At that moment, I realize that the objective for this ride has not only been met, it has been far surpassed. I am snapped out of this reverie when right in front of me brake lights break out like an ugly rash. A gaggle of cars have haphazardly parked all along the road. This is the best way to find wildlife, simply look for a traffic jam.

The reason for the blockade? An antenna enhanced critter happily and obliviously grazing away on the side of the road.

I can’t help myself, so I jump off and shoot it.

Does this jacket make me look fat, or is it just the fat that makes me look gigantic in the jacket? Wrong. The correct answer is none of the above. Remember, I’m still suffering from post traumatic sting syndrome. The swelling from the previous day’s bee stings has inflated my normally ripped physique, the aftermath is still evident. Yeah, that’s the ticket!

Nestled in the collective crotches of the Victoria Cross Ranges, Pyramid Mountain, Maligne Ranges and Indian Ridge, Jasper is a perfect place to unwind after a long day of riding. Turns out that everyone in the world is aware of that fact. As we enter the bustling ski town, I briefly worry about finding a room.

The first hotel we see has a gigantic Vacancy sign illuminated. Perfect, right? who needs reservations anyway? Reservations are for wieners, we’re adventurers!

At the desk, the usual I-Need-A-Room dance begins.

“Two rooms please?”

“Sorry, sir, we’re sold out.”

“Really? I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I got confused when I saw your Vacancy sign out front, please forgive me.”

Who’s a wiener now?

Oblivious tourists clog the roads, making appealing targets. Frustrated, I think to myself, “These people all have rooms, maybe if I send a few to the hospital, something will open up?”

A massive barrage of phone calls later, we finally locate the last two rooms in all of Jasper, conveniently located up many flights of stairs, and sharing a single bathroom with an entire floor. What an adventure!

The Best Day Ever is toasted from a rooftop restaurant. And from a local bar. Then a brewery…

The ocular overload continues the next day, with gawking stops at the Columbia Icefield Glacier:

Mount Athabasca:

Random snow cones:

And pre-bottled pure mountain water:

We roll through more of the same until we reach the funky enclave of Radium Hot Springs.

Upon finding this delightful weirdness, there is no doubt this town will be our final stop in the The People’s Republic of Canuckistan. Supremely pleased, we celebrate the greatest twenty four hour period in history with something that begins with ‘A’ and ends with ‘Glass of Twelve Year Old Macallan.’

The border of the USA looms large, and, as always happens, our finite supply of free time is running out.

Click here for the earth shattering finale to this epic tale!

Author: frenchy