
Editor's Note: This is the fourth in an ongoing series of articles about my family's bike trip from Alaska to Argentina as my boys try to break the Guiness world record as the youngest people to cycle the Pan American Highway.
My eyes were glued to my rearview mirror as I pedaled toward Calgary. Unfolding behind me was the most incredible, spectacular sight imaginable – the entire range of Canadian Rockies rose toward the heavens. And to think I spent a week there and didn’t see that glory at all…
The weather cooperated beautifully as we pedaled along the Athabasca River up to Jasper, at the northern end of Canada’s Jasper National Park. All four of us were thrilled – we were in Jasper! Jasper!
After hearing about Jasper and Banff for years, I was excited to finally be there – on the cusp of all those majestic views of the Rockies I had heard about. My cyclist friends claimed, “The best bicycle tour in the world is the Icefield Parkway between Jasper and Banff.” And now, I was here, ready to see it all for myself.
The Icefields Parkway was carved through the Canadian Rockies back in the early 1930’s as a project designed to put out-of-work young men to work. A crew started at each end and met in the middle nine years later, having completed a single-lane gravel road through the mountains. The Icefields Parkway opened to the public in 1940.
Even before the road was built, tourists made their way up to the region by train or horseback to gaze at the marvelous sights in the Canadian Rockies. Now I was ready to join their ranks – to see for myself just why all those people headed to Jasper and Banff National Parks. I couldn’t wait.
Our hopes were dashed when we awoke to rain our very first morning in the park, and rain ended up being our constant companion for the next week. As my family and I snaked our way between ten- and twelve-thousand-foot peaks on our heavily laden bicycles, we saw only their bases as their peaks hid behind a blanket of thick clouds. On top of that, the cold rain caused us all to shiver and shake so ferociously we couldn’t care less about the majestic mountains around us.
On our first day of riding in the park the clouds lifted for a few hours but when we were almost to our campground when the clouds lowered to an ominous level. A few minutes later, we were blasted with an onslaught of rain which obliterated our visibility and left us drenched within minutes. My ten-year-old son, Davy, tried gamely to make it to the campsite, but a mere three kilometers from our destination, he slowed to an agonizingly slow pace. I bit my tongue and slowly pedaled behind him.
With one kilometer to go, he ground to a hal
”Mom,” Davy turned to me. “I’m really, really cold.” He slowly peeled his fingers off his handlebars. “I can’t go on. My hands are too cold.”
Rain continued to pelt us and we had no escape for one more kilometer. But one kilometer can seem an eternity when you are too cold to move. I pulled out a thin pair of gloves to bundle up my son’s hands, and we continued on.
A few days and many hours of rain later, we approached the showcase of the Icefield Parkway – the Colombia Icefield. We became even more worried about what Mother Nature would throw our way. It’s windy and cold near the icefields in the best of times, and we hadn’t exactly chosen ideal weather for crossing our first pass on the road. A few kilometers below the top, a few flakes of snow fell, and we wondered just what was in store.
You can read the other articles in the series here:
Alaska Highway (July 2008)
Yukon (August 2008)
Northern British Columbia (August 2008)