August 30th, 2009
Onto the Icefield Parkway today. I was feeling quite nervous -- not really sure what to expect of a road of over 200km and no town in between. Armed with a tip from the bike shop guy to "stick my thumb out" in a worst case scenario, I started out on my way.
Turns out, there was no need to have worried. There were plenty of stops along the way, and I was able to drink water straight out of the creeks too. The bike guy was likely right though; I'm sure that in a worst-case-scenario situation, one of the hundreds of RVs that passed me on the road would have picked me and my gear up in no time at all.
The scenery along the road was nothing short of phenomenal. The Bow Summit and the view over Peyto Lake in particular was amazing (despite the long ride up). I began the ride along the parkway alone, but soon caught up with four other cyclists. I rode with them for a little while but was unable to keep up. I'd like to suggest that this was because I had a full load, but there is a minor possibility that they were just in better shape than me...hard to imagine I know.
Later, I met up with some other cyclists, a guy called Peter and his wife on a tandem bike as well as another Englishman called Tom who was also riding the full length of the parkway. They rode at a far more reasonable pace, and I ended up riding with Tom for the next day as well to the end of the parkway.
That night was spent at Rampart Creek for the night, where Tom and I shared a campsite and met up with another English guy and his wife who shared a couple of beers with us and also lent their stove. Frustratingly, the gas canister I had carried for the last 100km did not fit the stove I had bought. I wasn't pleased, but I wasn't going to take it back now. With the aid of my new friends' stove, I made pasta with Ragu along with some tuna. I foresee this becoming a favourite.
I've discovered that camping in Canada's back country most always takes conversations toward one topic: bears. One guy suggested that if we met any black bears we could scare them away and give them a good kick up the backside to shoo them off. I wasn't convinced and was fairly sure I wasn't going to be kicking any bears. All the talk did was make me super paranoid and so everything I had with me that had even a remote scent was carefully put away in a bear container provided by the campsite, leaving me safe for the night.
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