It's Snowing on June 9th in Banff

We get up early because Bunny is flying back to Raleigh today from the Calgary Airport, about 90 minutes south of Banff.  It’s raining and the sky is deeply overcast.  The beautiful landscape looks as though it’s behind a sheer gray shower curtain.  The rain doesn’t stop all the way to the airport.  Calgary’s airport is outside the city so there’s no traffic problem this time.  I give Bunny a hug and I realize I’m on my own now.  Nobody to solve any problems that come up but me.  I’m back on the road to Banff, noticing that the rain is heavier now than when we left this morning.  I’m about halfway there when I see SNOW FLAKES mixed in with the rain flying at my windshield.  I can’t believe it is snowing in June.  This is bad because I’m terrified of driving in the white stuff.  My body goes rigid all the way to my eyeballs and my world gets reduced to the 12-foot strip of slush right in front of the car.  By the time I get to the east gate of the park, there’s an inch of snow on the road that’s crunching underneath my wheels.  As I’m waiting to explain why I shouldn’t have to pay the park fee, the snow flakes beg for my attention as they stick on my windshield, all beautiful, perfectly formed circles as big as salad plates.  I desperately want to get off the road, but go where?  I'm on the Transcanada Highway, a four-lane freeway that runs straight through Banff National Park.  The Transcanada spans the length of the country, from Newfoundland to British Columbia, and it is the only good road that climbs over the mountains.  I'm miles from the next exit.  The park ranger at the gate is nonchalant about the snow and assures me that the road into Banff is fine.  I wonder how she knows that, but I take her word for it.  The town of Banff is about ten miles away and by the time I get there, the sun is shining.  I’ve just experienced a rather extreme example of the changeability of mountain weather.  

The Banff Gondola

Town of Banff and Cascade Mountain

Today we went up Sulfur Mountain by the Banff gondola.  A strenuous hiking trail switches back and forth up the mountain for 3.5 miles, gaining 2300 feet of elevation.  If you make it to the top on your own power, Banff gives you a free ride back down.  Or you can pay $35 and take the gondola straight up to the 7400 ft. summit.  Total time one way: 8 minutes.  Viewing decks along the ridgeline give stunning views of the town of Banff and endless mountains.

Walkways at top of Sulfur Mountain

Beautiful Lake Louise

We woke up to sunshine streaming in the windows and went into overdrive to take advantage of it.  The Canadian Rockies are experiencing three times as much rain as normal in the month of June this year.  They have a rainy season every June and into mid-July.  But this much rain is not normal.  Last night, another massive storm system emptied itself out over Canmore.  We’re parked in a basement garage, and there is a steady drip, drip, drip of water coming in making ever-widening puddles in the low spots.  I hope I don’t come back today to find a new swimming pool in the building.

We run out the door early, thinking we have everything we need in our backpacks.  We’re bound for Lake Louise, one of the most beautiful lakes in Canada.  I’m not paying much attention to the temperature.  This is summer and it will warm up, right?  Well, it depends.  As we found out later, it had snowed at Lake Louise for three days straight before our visit today.  Also, Lake Louise is at a higher elevation than Banff; the higher the elevation, the colder the temperature. 

Rain mixed with ice is falling out of the sky at Lake Louise.  And it's very cold. Somehow Bunny is more prepared for these conditions than I am.  She did her internet research the night before she left and repacked her entire suitcase, adding more winter clothes.  All my interviewers told me that mountain weather was unpredictable so prepare for everything, but I was thinking cool, mild spring temperatures.  Downright winter conditions were not part of my expectations in the middle of June.


I tear through the backseat of the car, pulling out anything wearable and eventually end up with a few layers of mismatched clothes.  The light rain gear I have doesn’t do much to keep me warm, but it helps to keep me dry.  The worst part is that my fingers are freezing and I don’t want to take them out of my pockets to use my camera.   I don’t remember being this cold even in the winter in North Carolina.

Time out.  We walk up to the Fairmont Chateau (not hotel).  Everything there is beautiful and expensive, but I find some fleece gloves that don’t bust the budget.  I realize that comfort is a futile dream given my lack of winter clothing, so we head back to the lake.


Ice pellets are still falling, but with less frequency than when we arrived.  I’m trying to trick my mind into ignoring the bone-chilling temperature, even if I get back to Canmore as a human icicle.  But all the advice I got was right on (next time I think I’ll listen to it). Mountain weather conditions can change dramatically from one hour to the next and can improve as easily as worsen.  As we walk the trail that makes a half-circle around Lake Louise, the falling ice disappears, eventually the rain stops, and at the trail’s turnaround point, the sun makes a feeble appearance, brightening the glacier high above the lake.  I’m not warm, but I’m no longer freezing.  I'm in total awe of the beauty of this place and that's all I can think about now.

   

  

Soaking in the Banff Hot Springs - Just Magical

It’s been raining in Canmore this morning.  Last night a major storm raged most of the night, dumping more water into streams and rivers already swollen from an unusually wet spring season preceded by heavy snows last winter.  One of the highways to Lake Louise was closed today because of unspecified debris on the road.  We headed to the Banff Hot Springs, hanging out there most of the morning to take advantage of the lull before the next storm system predicted for the afternoon. 

At 10 o’clock in the morning on an unstable weather day, the pool was deliciously nearly empty.  I couldn’t tell if the floating mist that kept thickening and thinning was from the heated water or from the cloud fragments drifting right overhead, sometimes touching down like curious ghosts.  At times I couldn’t see the other end of the pool, only a white curtain.  We glided through the water, in and out of that curtain, pretending we were magicians' assistants practicing the Disappearing Lady Trick.                                                                         
The sky was overcast, working hard to turn the water the same color, so sometimes looking down it was like the horizon at the beach on a cloudy day: where does the water end and the sky begin? The drizzling rain added another dimension to the surreal atmosphere, cooling the skin without us having to get out of the water.  And then there were the mountains, which in this weather loomed above as huge opaque shadows with a startling visibility when the clouds hiding them drifted away. A sunny day at the hot springs will seem too ordinary after all these special effects.  

After about 45 minutes, we heard thunder and Parks Canada employees ushered us out of the pool but promised we could return when the storm passed.  Parks Canada operates all the hot springs in their parks right now, but that will change next year when private operators take over.  This was a decision by their Federal government to reduce expenditures in response to a significant budget deficit.  I don’t think that the friendly, helpful, and enthusiastic attitudes I see in Parks Canada employees can be duplicated by private firms, so I’m glad we are visiting now.  By the way, the water was about 40 degrees Celsius.  You can figure out the calculation into Fahenheit. Then let me know (Bayard and Marcia, this means you).

The Worst Day of the Trip

Montana - was I even there?  It feels like we repeated the same drive two days in a row, only the second day it was called Montana instead of North Dakota.  We arrived at the Crystal Inn next to the tiny Great Falls airport just in front of a massive storm system that blew all night.  We've been driving seven to eight hours every day.  We're tired, tired, tired.  Every day the state of foggy fatigue we wake up with is getting harder to shake off, regardless of the amount of caffeine consumed.  Today is the end of the long road trip.  We're about six hours away from Canmore, Alberta, a small town right outside of Banff National Park.

Back on the road.  It’s raining quite hard and Bunny's new mantra over the last two days, "I just want to get there", is the one and only focus.  Canadian customs had a different plan for us.  We were told to pull off the road and we spent the next three hours in a waiting room.  I wondered if passengers on an airplane delayed for hours on the runway felt like we did.  There's no official communication, no provision for food or drink no matter how long you wait, navigating the restroom seems to take special training, and fellow detainees are all behaving abnormally to hide their frustration.  There didn't seem to be any profiling going on, because every type of traveler was pulled over; truckers, retirees in campers, hunters, motorcyclists, students, and tourists like us.  Then, about 15 minutes before lunchtime, suddenly every window was filled with a customs official and the waiting room emptied as everyone’s documentation got processed all at the same time.  What was that all about?  A rite of passage?  

More tired than ever, with the rain not letting up, we’d hoped to miss rush hour traffic in Calgary, a big sprawling town that has been growing like mad for years.  We ended up right in the middle of it and crawled our way through the city for an hour and a half.  Used to the excess of overhead traffic signs in North Carolina, a small shield announcing a major highway and tacked to a utility pole was easy to miss (several times).

With the constant rain increasing in intensity, we arrived in Canmore and managed to find the condo we rented.  Looking through the instructions from the owner, apparently he included all the codes for the parking garage (called a parkade here) and the elevators, but left off the code to get into the condo.  Everything is a keyless access in that building.  Only a door separating us from the never ending tyranny of the road. 

I had an overwhelming urge to plop down in the middle of the hallway and kick and scream obscenities at the stupidity of...ME for not confirming everything.  But in our present state of mind, getting reported and having to explain anything to the local authorities would probably not go well.  The condo owner has a home in Calgary and, after about an hour, he was available to tell us the code over the phone.  He had revised his instruction sheet for renters and had revised that important information out of the final copy. 
Hallelujah!  We’re here! I'm going to sleep for the next twelve hours.            

Sweet Dreams in the Canadian Rockies (finally)!

Giant Beasts of North Dakota

Dakota Thunder, The World's Largest Buffalo
Constructed in 1959 but only named in 2010

Salem Sue, The World's Largest Holstein Cow
Photo:  The Real North Dakota Project

Just as I was thinking that the I-94 highway was sooo boring, WHAM!  I saw it.  The sign for The World's Largest Buffalo in Jamestown, North Dakota. We just left Theodore Roosevelt Park, still on a nature high from the wild buffalo sightings.  How dare North Dakota so blatantly advertise its crass commercialism when the real thing was all around.  No sir, not for me, I'm not getting reeled in to that sideshow. Then....signs for Salem Sue, the World's Largest Holstein Cow, followed by Giant Geese in Flight, The World's Largest Scrap Metal Sculpture.  Did we blink too long and in that instant get transported to the land of The World's Largest Everything, like Brobdingnag, the world of giants in Gulliver's Travels?  Well, almost. We're experiencing North Dakota's quirky giant roadside animal sculptures.  To give you an example of how giant these guys really are, Salem Sue is 38 feet high, 50 feet long, and is visible from the road for 5 miles.

Other roadside attractions include The World's Largest Sandhill Crane, The World's Largest Catfish, The Giant Pheasant Family, Wally the Giant Walleye, Tommy the Giant Turtle, the Giant Deer Family, and how could we tell we were in the Plains without the Giant Grasshoppers.  The car veered off the Interstate like a divining rod to see Dakota Thunder.  I changed my mind.  He was worth it.

"Life is a great adventure…accept it in such a spirit"

Who Said That?

I love the Badlands!

One of thousands of prairie dogs in the park

Magnificent beasts

Good riddance to Bismarck, North Dakota.  No happy memories there.  Speeding on to a planned stop at Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  Never heard of it?  Neither had I until I googled attractions in western North Dakota.  Roosevelt was looking for adventure when he came to the North Dakota Badlands to hunt buffalo as a young man, but instead he developed a profound appreciation for wild places that shaped the rest of his life.  "I have always said I would not have been President had it not been for my experience in North Dakota."  As President, he fought to preserve and protect unique American natural resources for future generations by placing approximately 230 million acres of land under Federal protection.  Bunny and I spent about two hours driving the 36-mile loop through the southern section of the park and found bison, prairie dogs (lots), and feral horses.  The elk and the bighorn sheep weren't working today.  Truly a unique American wild place preserved by a great American president.  I think you know the answer to my question by now.