The picture came from the Internet with no name attached. It might have no name. I only knew that it was in the Canadian Rockies, in one of the Canadian National Parks.
I wanted to ride that road.
Pam had never been to the Rocky Mountains, and I had never been farther north than the Wyoming ranges, so last winter, via the Internet, I began checking out roads in Montana and Canada. When that picture downloaded onto my computer screen that place called to me.
We figured that July should be a good time for the trip. The temperature would not be too cold for riding, even at higher altitudes.
My friend John called and inquired if another rider would be welcome on our trip. We knew it wouldn't be a problem because we have ridden to the Springfield Mile many times with John, and knew that he was willing to put up with my habit of not always taking the shortest route.
I painted and mounted a used Tour Pak trunk for some additional locking storage, and Pam planned our packing. As the day of departure neared, John had some bad news. Family obligations meant he would not be able to leave until two days after we had planned. We decided to stay in touch by cell phone and meet out west.
The morning of the Fourth of July Pam and I headed down US 20 to Dubuque, then north on the Great River Road toward La Crescent, Minnesota. The river roads that run along both sides of the Mississippi River are possibly the most scenic stretches of road within easy reach of Chicago. We rode the Iowa-Minnesota side of the river. It is well paved, nice curves, decent changes in elevation, and spectacular views of the river. The bluffs that mark the edge of the river valley always remind me of the coastline near Big Sur. It is one of my favorite area rides, and a good way to start the trip west.
At La Crescent we picked up I-90 and headed west. Rochester seemed a good place to motel it for the night. A leisurely dinner before watching some distant fireworks finished the day.
Friday started out sunny and warm. As we continued west on I-90 through Minnesota and South Dakota the heat increased. It was hot. We stopped in Mitchell, South Dakota for ice cream and to see the 2002 decorations on the Corn Palace. By late afternoon, it was even hotter, and we could take no more of the interstate. We exited I-90 and took the two-lane loop through Badlands National Park. The terrain was a relief from the interstate, but there was no relief from the heat. Lightning flashes to the north and a beautiful sunset to the west convinced us that Wall, South Dakota should be our resting place for that night.
Sure, we look happy, but it was HOT:
Critter crossing the road in Badlands N.P:
Rain approaching as we head for Wall, SD:
We did not want to get too many miles ahead of John, and, since Pam had never seen Mt. Rushmore, we decided to detour through the Black Hills on Saturday. We picked up a handful of tourist brochures and looked through them during breakfast in Rapid City. Pam wanted to see Mt. Rushmore and I wanted to find some nice mountain roads. A brochure that described the Peter Norbeck Scenic Byway seemed to promise both.
The Norbeck Byway is made up of Iron Mountain Road (Alternate US 16), and Needles Highway (SD 244), and passes through both Custer State Park and Mount Rushmore National Memorial. It has some unique features called "pigtail bridges" that send the road in a circle above itself to gain altitude when there is no room for a switchback. There are also some very narrow tunnels blasted out of the mountains that allow only one vehicle to pass at a time. Fitting one of the numerous sightseeing busses through these tunnels seems almost impossible, as does making some of the hairpin turns. We saw one bus with both sets of back wheels off the road and stuck at one of these hairpins.
Pam checking out the scenery in the Black Hills:
The Black Hills detour was worth the time. It was cooler in the hills. The roads were beautiful and Pam was able to see Mount Rushmore twice (although from a little further away than she thought necessary). We also checked out the progress on the Crazy Horse sculpture being blasted out of a mountain near Rushmore.The Crazy Horse Memorial:
We headed north into Deadwood to spend the night. The hills surrounding the city were charred from a fire that had engulfed the forest and almost burned the town. Almost every business had a sign thanking firefighters for saving the town. The ruin of one house was a sobering example of the destruction, but seemed to be the only building destroyed. Gambling seems to be the largest industry in town, so we spread a few dollars around just to do our part. As we discussed the sights we had seen that day, I reminded Pam that these were only the hills, and the mountains were still ahead. The next morning we headed west toward those mountains.
The fire got pretty close to Deadwood:
Leaving South Dakota the road climbed to the high plains of Wyoming. Another hot day. At a gas stop at Sundance, we saw three trucks and a large crew of Idaho fire fighters on their way from one forest fire to the next. We looked forward to the mountains, and the cool air we hoped to find there. We could see Devil's Tower to the north, and soon could see the distant Rockies. Thunderheads miles to the west promised the cool relief of rain, but when we finally reached them, the streamers of rain were evaporating before they reached the ground. But the mountains were closer.
US 16 seemed to be the closest two-lane that would take us into the mountains, so we left the interstate again at Buffalo, Wyoming. At our next gas stop, we met a local couple on a Gold Wing returning from a ride to Cody. They told us the nice route would be west on 16 to Ten Sleep, then north on a local road to Manderson where we could rejoin 16 and take that into Cody. They also recommended calling ahead for a motel room, and gave us the name of the motel they had used the previous night.
US 16 took us into the Bighorn Mountains, across Powder River Pass, and down to the town of Ten Sleep. We ate in a café in town, listening to the local cowboys talking about the rodeo. Just west of town, we saw Nowood Road, which would keep us close to the mountains as we headed north. We rejoined US 16/20 in Manderson, and it soon turned to the west, across the valley of the Big Horn and into Cody.
Headed into Ten Sleep: 
The Big Horn River flows through a wide valley, and 16/20 goes almost straight west across the valley floor to Cody. The sky sometimes contributes as much to the scenery as does the landscape in the West, and did along this stretch of highway. Violet clouds, tan grasslands, golden sunbeams, and distant mountains combined into a panorama that let us know we were truly in the West.
U.S. 14/16 running straight west to Cody:
We pulled into Cody and checked into the recommended motel, the Green Gables. It was a nice motel, only a couple of years old, with high ceilings that gave the rooms a spacious feeling. The staff of that motel was motorcycle-friendly, offering rags for bike polishing and advice on dinner spots. We explored Cody, shot some pictures of the sunset, had dinner, and turned in. We tried reaching John by cell phone, with no luck. The next morning I took the staff's offer of rags and tried to get the majority of bugs off the windshield.
Statue of Buffalo Bill in Cody:
Cody, Wyoming was built in large part through the efforts of Buffalo Bill Cody, in a successful attempt to attract tourists to the region. He also built the road that leads west into Yellowstone Park. It is now US 14/16/20 and is a very scenic route into the park. It follows the Shoshone River through the Shoshone National Forest to Yellowstone's East Entrance.
A few of Yellowstone's famous residents:
We took another detour to give John a chance to catch up with us. Pam had never seen Yellowstone, so we took a leisurely ride through the park, then down US 89 past the majestic Grand Tetons, and into Jackson, Wyoming. From Jackson, we took Wyoming 22 across the Teton Pass into Idaho, to see if the Tetons were as spectacular from the west.
The Grand Tetons:
Teton Pass is steep. It has a 10% grade, one of the steepest I have seen. We could smell the hot brakes of the vehicles descending as we climbed the 8400' pass. It was not possible to use fifth gear to climb the east side of the pass, but the Road King did fine in fourth. The descent to the west was not as steep, and the views of the Grand Tetons were not as spectacular from the Idaho side. But the fields of wheat, barley, and potatoes along the gently curving road had their own beauty. We took Idaho 33 and 32 north to US 20 and back east to the town of West Yellowstone. Luckily we were able to get one of the last available rooms.
The Tetons from Idaho:
That evening we were able to connect with John on the cell phones. We agreed to meet the following afternoon in Billings, Montana. Pam and I decided that the following morning we would see some more of Yellowstone Park and take US 212 through Beartooth Pass into Montana.
Rough road to Yellowstone's Northeast Entrance: 
The view is worth the rough ride:
The next morning, we toured the west side of Yellowstone. A fire a few years ago has left the park with fewer large trees, and from what I could see, fewer tourists. We stopped to see Old Faithful geyser, and I took a relaxing nap waiting for the eruption. Afterwards, we continued through the park. A herd of buffalo was roaming near the road, and we took some pictures. Having fulfilled our duties as tourists, we headed for the Northeast Entrance of the Park and Beartooth Pass.
Construction on the roads leading out of the Park slowed our progress, and we worried that we would miss our appointed time to meet John. We could also see the smoke from a forest fire ahead and were concerned that the road would be closed. The cell phone was unable to make a connection in the mountains, so we started looking for a pay phone. We found one outside a small restaurant in the town of Silver Gate, but John's phone was not on. Assuming he was on the road, we had a quick and tasty lunch at the restaurant, and tried phoning again. We were again unsuccessful, and decided to try pay phones along the route.
The Wyoming side of Beartooth Pass is the gentle side:
We stopped for gas before reaching the summit of the pass, and asked if a phone was available. The station's phone was not working, but the attendant said we would have cell phone service when we reached the summit. We made good time to the summit. From there we could still see the smoke rising from the fire near Yellowstone. We were finally able to connect with John on the phone. He was waiting at the Harley shop in Billings. I explained that we were making very slow progress, and we decided to meet in Red Lodge. John asked and was told that there was a Harley dealer in Red Lodge also, and we headed down the north side of the pass to meet there.
Snowplow poles (?) near the summit:
The road through Beartooth Pass is a road that everyone should ride at least once. It passes through the Shoshone National Forest and has few side roads. From Yellowstone Park it climbs around gentle curves and through beautiful scenery. Shortly before reaching the top of the pass, the road climbs above the tree line and becomes twistier. Near the summit the road is lined with tall poles. My guess is the ten-foot and higher poles guide the snowplows when the snow covers every other landmark. The tight curves continue down the other side of the pass until reaching the valley into Red Lodge. It was a great road to ride. I had trouble watching the scenery and the road at the same time, so the road won. It was well paved, with plenty of speed limit signs posted before the curves. As we entered Montana, a little past the summit, the speed limit was posted as 70. Good luck! I usually assume that the speed limits posted for curves are for reference purposes only, but noticed that the ones posted for 15 mph cause the crash bars to scrape when taken at a reasonably exuberant pace. The absence of solid ground on the outside of these curves, along with the sound of the bars scraping, can cause a syndrome called "butt-pucker".
The Montana side of the pass is the twisty side:
We rolled into the town of Red Lodge and found the Harley dealer. John had not yet arrived, so we went inside the air-conditioned shop and looked at the shirts. We found one with a picture of the pass on the back. I knew it would make a great gift for my friend Mark, since he had recommended the road. As a bonus, I hoped the "Beartooth Harley-Davidson" caption would embarrass him while riding his Gold Wing.
Mountain lake along the road:
John arrived shortly, and I told him how nice the road over the pass had been. We decided to get rooms in Red Lodge for the night and make another run at the pass for his enjoyment. The Yodeler Motel had only one room left. Luckily it was a "family" room and had two bedrooms. It was another motorcycle-friendly motel. Although the parking was gravel, the clerk provided wood blocks for the side-stands. We unpacked the bikes and headed back up the pass. It had cooled down from the afternoon, and made for a brisk ride. It was as much fun the second time as the first.
The next morning, we packed and headed down the main street of Red Lodge for breakfast. We went back to the same restaurant we had eaten dinner in the previous evening. I wanted to take a picture of the unusual pool table we had played on after dinner. Instead of the usual rectangular table, it was "L" shaped. It had made for some interesting strategy during the games we played. We looked at the map during breakfast to see if there were any promising two-lane roads going in our planned direction. Montana 78 fit the bill, and would keep us off the interstate for a few miles.
This table called for some unusual strategy:
It was a pleasant road, with gentle curves and elevation changes. It passed through open range, so we kept an eye out for cattle wandering onto the road. The landscape and the mountains to the south put me in a musical mood. I serenaded Pam with a (to my ears only) melodious rendition of "Home on the Range". Then she was treated to my impression of Elvis doing that song, and as an encore, my impression of Bob Dylan singing that cowboy favorite. By the time we rejoined the interstate she was happy the higher speeds kept her having to listen any further.
The heat was building again, so the interstate helped us make time west and toward more mountains. We stopped for lunch at Butte, but a quick tour into the historic district was just too hot. We headed back toward the interstate. We rode by a lot of mine shafts, and then open pit mines. If it had been cooler, it would have been an interesting town to explore. We could think of nothing but gaining elevation and hopefully cooling off.
We jumped back on a two-lane near Anaconda. The road passed north of the smokestack from the Anaconda Copper Company smelter. This stack is visible for miles, since it is almost 600 feet tall. Near the road were large black hills, that I assumed were coal, but were actually the slag left from the copper refining process. Montana Route 1 is the Pintler Scenic Highway in this area and was a good choice for avoiding the interstate. There are a few ghost towns and old gold mines near the road. The road was nice, and the mountains to the west were promising relief from the heat, so the ghost towns would have to wait for a cooler trip. We rejoined I-90 at Drummond and headed for Missoula, and even the interstate was a nice ride through the mountains.
We found a motel in Missoula, and there were three bikes from British Columbia parked near our rooms, with the riders enjoying the evening air in chairs outside their room. They had just come from Glacier Park, and recommended the town of Kalispell for motels near the park. We unpacked our bikes, turned the room air conditioners on high, and went for dinner. We planned our route to Kalispell over dinner. US 93 was the most direct route, but Montana Route 83 looked more inviting. We decided to backtrack east on Montana 200 and take 83.
Not having seen 93, I cannot compare it with 83, but 83 was beautiful. It followed a valley between two mountain ranges north through state and national forest land. The road followed a mountain stream through the aromatic forests, with views of the mountain ranges on both sides.
We pulled into Kalispell in the afternoon. The Harley dealer was on the road leading into town, and I stopped to see if they could change my oil the next morning. They said they could and we found a motel. We decided to wash some clothes and then see what Going to the Sun Road in Glacier Park was like. The desk clerk at the motel said that it stayed light until after ten at night. We rode east on US 2 to West Glacier and entered the park.
Entering Glacier N.P. from the west: 
Going to the Sun Road hugs the shore of Lake McDonald for the first few miles. It had been another hot day, and riding through the evergreens was cooler and pleasant. The view through the trees to the lake included the mountains on the other side and their reflections. Each view rivaled the last for beauty. The mountains had a steep-sided look that we later learned had come from glacial action wearing at their peaks. Tall thin waterfalls, fed by melting snow, could be seen almost at every turn.
The west end of Going to the Sun road:
After passing Lake McDonald, the road began to twist and climb. There were usually cliffs on both sides, rising on one side and dropping on the other. Forward progress was slowed by the desire not to miss a single view. As we climbed higher, the trees on the other side of the valley began to look like rich green velvet with the steep peaks, bare of trees, standing sentry above.
Spectacular views everywhere:
We were still miles from the summit when the sinking sun told us it was time to head back to Kalispell. We retraced our route, stopping to enjoy the sunset over Lake McDonald. A photographer was set up on the shore, taking panoramic shots of the sunlit clouds, the mountains, and their reflection in the still waters of the lake.
His photographs are probably better than mine!
Heading back toward Kalispell we passed through the towns of Hungry Horse and Columbia Falls. It seemed that every other business was hawking huckleberries in some form or another: huckleberry candy, huckleberry jelly, and huckleberry ice cream. There was also a store selling sheepskins, and we decided to stop there the next day and see if they had any that would fit the seat and give us some relief from the heat. We had decided to stay in Kalispell for two nights and use it as a base for exploring Going to the Sun Road.
Modeling high-fashion headgear at the sheepskin store:
The next morning we again headed for Glacier Park. What can be said about Going to the Sun Road? Great road! It follows the shore of Lake McDonald, climbs to Logan Pass, and then descends to follow the shore of St. Mary Lake to the East entrance of the park. We were lucky that the road had opened for the public the week before. I don't know why the road opens so late in the year. It may be fear of avalanches, or deep snow, or perhaps the runoff from melting snow is covering the road. I would suggest making sure the road is open before making a trip to the area. Going to the Sun Road is acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful roads in the world.
Snow is still 10-12' deep on the left:
Near the summit, the road passes the Weeping Wall. Here a number of small waterfalls drop onto the edge of the road. We were treated to a refreshing shower there on our return trip west to Kalispell. Closer to the summit, the ferocity of the winter weather was still evident. We rode through canyons of snow, still melting to feed mighty rivers miles away.
There are free cooling showers at Weeping Wall:
An information center at the summit has exhibits on the park and the road. It includes examples of the wildlife that inhabits the park, and explanations of the glacial action that formed the mountains' present shapes.
Just a nice shot along Going to the Sun Road:
The landscape changed as we made our descent eastward toward St. Mary Lake. It is not as lush as the west side of the park, but the views of the mountain peaks were breathtaking. St. Mary Lake is a jewel in the mountains.
St. Mary Lake near the east entrance to Glacier N.P.:
We stopped for lunch at Rising Sun Lodge, then headed for the east entrance to the park. We wanted to explore one more road that entered Glacier National Park. We headed north on US 89 to the Many Glacier Entrance to the park. The scenery along that road was not as spectacular as that seen from Going to the Sun Road, but the road provided it's own excitement. Cruising west along Lake Sherburne, we approached a road construction sign that warned of loose gravel ahead. This sign had been common at construction areas we had ridden through previously, and the gravel there had been packed tightly enough to make it easy to navigate. However, the gravel at this site was as advertised. I was leading, and hit the stretch of gravel at about 45mph. It was as I imagine hitting a runaway truck ramp would feel. The bike felt as if it had sunk into the gravel up to the rims, and started slowing with the drag of the loose stones. Steering seemed out of the question; so I gave the Road King a little throttle and let the bike go where it wanted. I don't know if this was the best thing to do, but I finally reached the asphalt at the other end of the gravel. I looked in the mirror to see John using the same technique. By the time we reached that gravel pit on the way out, I had decided that the grass on the shoulder was a better route than the road. It was.
As we rejoined US 89 and turned south to make our return to Going to the Sun Road, we knew that Canada was not many miles to the north. We could see the smoke of yet another forest fire to the east over the mountains.
Smoke from a forest fire over the ridge:
Our return trip west on Going to the Sun Road let us view the magnificent scenery from the other direction. This caused a slow trip, since it was necessary to stop at many of the turnouts and enjoy the view. One beautiful sight was the shadows of the mountains west of the road toward Lake McDonald falling on the mountains to the east.
Nice riding road:
Sunset view heading west:
Mountains casting shadows:
Riding along the river that feeds Lake McDonald, I glimpsed through the trees two large animals standing in the river. Only a glimpse. Moose? As soon as we found a safe spot to pull over, we parked the bikes and walked back to see if the animals were really moose, but they had moved on before we could confirm the sighting. Disappointed, we motored on toward the lake, keeping a lookout for wildlife. A deer walked out of the woods to feed on the grass along the road, so we pulled over so not to spook her.
We stopped once more by the lake, and then headed back to Kalispell. It was hard to leave Glacier Park, knowing that it might be years before we would return, but I wanted to find that stretch of road in Canada.
The next morning we packed the bikes and headed north out of Kalispell. We took US 93 to the Canadian border, and followed British Columbia Rte. 93 north. We had been unsure how long the border crossing would take, but it was quick and easy.
As we were cruising north on 93, and I was trying to convert the speed limit signs to mph in my head, we passed a sign warning of loose gravel for the next 25km. With the memory of the loose gravel in Glacier, John and I both slowed to about 30 as we approached the construction. The gravel was pretty well packed, so we were able to make reasonable time through the construction zone. We were going slower than the few cars and trucks that overtook us, so would ride slowly on the shoulder while they passed.
This became our method of riding through the Canadian parks. There are many signs to watch for wildlife, and the scenery begs to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace. A lot of the local wildlife was both larger and heavier than we were, so cruising at or below the speed limit seemed wise. Throughout our trip through the parks, we would ease over onto the well-paved shoulder whenever faster vehicles needed to pass.
We spent our first night in Canada in Radium Hot Springs. If there is any radium nearby, it did not seem to have any affect on us, but might have had some effect on local plumbing. The bathtub in our motel room looked like it had been shrunk to half size. We unloaded the bikes, and then backtracked to a German restaurant that had caught our eyes. It was in Lake Windermere, which we had passed on the way into Radium Hot Springs. Signs on the road warned to watch for mountain goats, so we stopped to see if we could spot any. We saw no goats, but a couple of bats gave us a display of aerial acrobatics.
The next morning, we headed through Kootenay National Park toward Banff National Park. These are two of four parks that adjoin each other in the Canadian Rockies. The other two are Jasper National Park and Yoho National Park. Rte 93 follows the Kootenay River through the center of Kootenay Park, and then crosses the Continental Divide and drops into Banff National Park. We saw our first mountain goats as we descended from Vermillion Pass toward Canada's highway 1.
At the junction with Hwy 1, one direction led to the town of Banff, and the other toward Lake Louise. We headed north to Lake Louise. As we followed the road up to the lake, traffic became heavier and heavier. We were back in civilization. Tourist civilization! Lake Louise is beautiful if you can overlook the throngs of tourists. It fills a valley between majestic peaks, and the glacier that feeds it is visible at the far end. There is a huge hotel on the shore, and we had a good lunch in one of its restaurants. The road was calling, so we headed back to the bikes.
Lake Louise:
After passing through the outskirts of the town of Lake Louise, we saw a sign for a tramway, and headed for it. As we came to the driveway, we passed through a tall fence and across a grate, which I assumed was a cattle grate, even though we had seen no cattle for days. The tramway was actually a ski lift. We bought our tickets. Before ascending the lift, we received a short talk about the area. What I thought was a cattle grate at the fence was actually a bear grate, and the fence was electrified. This area has one of the largest concentrations of grizzly bears in Canada, and the fence was to keep the bears away from the ski lodge. At the top of the lift, in the upper lodge, a ranger was giving another talk.
The Lake Louise Tramway. The ski lodge is below, the town of Lake Louise is near the lake:
The view of Lake Louise from the top of the tramway.
The emphasis of his talk was on protecting the wildlife in the parks, and protecting the visitors from the wildlife. He said most of the wildlife lost in the parks was the result of being hit by cars, and asked his listeners to please obey the speed limit signs. There would be additional warning signs in areas of high wildlife concentration, with lower speed limits.
He also gave many tips on protecting ourselves from the animals, especially the bears. Although bears are huge, they are also quick and agile. He said they were able to run down ground squirrels, and had no trouble running down people. The elk, moose, and deer in the park could also be dangerous. He warned the audience to stay in their cars, not feed the animals, and drive slowly when near any wildlife.
We went back outside to enjoy the view. From the deck of the upper lodge we could see Lake Louise in the distance, nestled in its valley. We returned to the top of the tramway for the ride back down. People arriving said they had spotted a bear and cub below the lift, so we jumped on, keeping a lookout for the bears. About halfway down we saw them below us, strolling slowly toward the tree line. What a sight! To see a bear in the wild is a rare and wonderful occurrence, and we were lucky enough to see two: a mother and her cub.
Mama Grizzly (by the center pole) follows her cub into the trees:
We headed from the tramway back onto Rte 1, and turned north. It had been threatening to rain all day, and we discussed putting on our rain suits. We decided to keep going and if the rain came, we would pull over then. Less than a quarter mile on Rte 1, we spotted another bear, a huge grizzly strolling along the trees on the right shoulder of the road. At the distance we passed him, it was easy to gauge his size, and he dwarfed any animal I have ever seen in the wild.
We pulled into a cross street to watch the bear make slow progress toward us. I wanted to get a picture of him, but was too nervous about his proximity to get off the bike to open the trunk for the camera. We kept the bikes idling as we watched him, and when he was close enough that it seemed dangerous, we pulled back onto Rte 1 and left him in peace. Another couple of miles and the rain finally came. We put on our suits and continued north, and it let up shortly.
Scenery along the Icefields Parkway north of Lake Louise:
Traffic was very light, even on Rte. 1, which is one of Canada's main highways. When we left Rte 1 for 93 toward Jasper, other traffic was almost non-existent. Signs of civilization were rare. The scenery, which had been beautiful since the Badlands, and had become more so the further we rode, was continuing this trend. The further north we traveled, the more beautiful the sights were becoming. We cruised at speeds well below the limit, trying to soak up every sight. When faster vehicles would approach us, we would ride on the shoulder until they were past.
More scenery:
The next civilization we encountered was at the turnoff for Mosquito Creek. There was a restaurant and gift shop there, so we stopped for a break and a "ride to eat, eat to ride" meal. Let's see, we had breakfast in Radium, lunch in Lake Louise, we would have dinner when we stopped for the night, so this would be dunch? The chili was good. We got back on the road.
Cloudy and chilly, but who cares? We are on the top of the world:
We made loose plans to stop near the Columbia Icefield for the night, but the scenery slowed us enough that by the time we made the next civilization at Saskatchewan Crossing, we filled up with gas and reassessed the plan. There was a gas station, restaurant, gift shop, and motel at Saskatchewan Crossing. The rare sight of a motel made us think it might be a good idea to stop there rather than head farther north that day.
John fills up his bike at Saskatchewan Crossing:
Rooms were available, and the price was reasonable, and became even more reasonable when the Canadian dollars were converted to US dollars. The rooms were nice, the restaurant was a buffet, and we still had an hour or two of daylight to explore the road.
We unpacked the bikes, and headed north for some more scenery appreciation. To give you an idea of the amount of traffic we encountered through the Canadian Parks, we rode about a half hour north of Saskatchewan Crossing, stopping to take pictures, and returned without seeing one other vehicle.
Pam and John on the deserted highway:
The buffet was excellent.
We picked up a brochure about the Columbia Icefields, and the description made us look forward to the next day's travel. The Columbia Icefield is the largest icefield outside of the arctic, and feeds numerous glaciers. It looked as if we would get to see a glacier up close. We headed back to the rooms, and I checked overhead on the chance that the Northern Lights would be playing across the sky, but they were not going to make an appearance this trip.
The next morning we packed and headed for the Columbia Icefield. The public is not allowed to drive to the glacier, because private vehicles would not be able to climb the grade to the glacier, and because too many vehicles would add to the glacier's destruction. We bought tickets for a tour in the lodge across Hwy 1. A bus took us across to meet the snow buggy. The snow buggies are specially equipped busses, with all wheel drive, and diesels with enough torque to climb the grade to the glacier. The driver gave us an informative talk as we climbed to the glacier.
Waterfall south of the Icefield:
These ice buggies have some serious horsepower:
One of the Icefield glaciers:
The icefield and glaciers are remnants of the last Ice Age. They are shrinking now. The glacier that was our destination flows 45 feet each year, a slow moving river of compressed snow that is still shaping the mountains underneath. We reached the surface of the glacier and were able to walk/slide along it. We tasted the water that melted from it, water that had not been liquid for ages.
A nearby peak, called the Snow Dome, is a unique geographical feature. It is where the east-west Continental Divide meets the Arctic Continental Divide. The snowmelt from that peak runs to the Pacific, the Atlantic, or the Arctic Oceans. It was a fun and informative side trip.
We left the icefield and again headed north on the Parkway. I was beginning to get nervous. I had not yet seen that stretch of road whose picture had enticed me for months. There were, after all, some side roads where that picture might have been taken. What if that stretch of road was on one of those side roads? We motored north, and the bare mountain peaks at least began to have shapes similar to those in the picture.
Sometimes, when we would pull onto a turn-off to admire the view or snap some pictures, we would encounter a car. More often it seemed we would find a busload of Asian tourists, and many seemed as interested in our Harleys as in the scenery. They would, with hand signals, indicate that they wanted to take our picture, and we would oblige when asked.
Another waterfall along the Parkway:
As we approached Jasper, we pulled off to photograph a waterfall. I was feeling that the end of the mountain portion of our trip was approaching. We planned on heading east across the Canadian plains when we reached Jasper. I turned to look back along the road we had just traveled and saw it. There was the road from the picture, the road I had been longing to ride, stretching back through that valley and across that bridge. The road that I had gazed at on my computer screen the previous winter was there before me. It was like seeing an old friend. The road had been ridden, had been connected to all the roads that I have ridden before and will ride later. Then a busload of tourists pulled into the turn off with a hiss of air brakes, and we saddled up and headed toward Jasper.
There's the road!As we neared the town, we saw a sign for another tramway. Since our first aerial trip had been so much fun, we headed for the Jasper Tramway. As we pulled into the parking lot, a tramcar passed over us, heading toward a peak unseen. It was a fully enclosed car, not the ski lift chair that we had ridden near Lake Louise.
The tower down there is halfway up the tramway:
The Jasper Tramway took us much higher than the lift near Lake Louise had. We were above the tree line, close to the clouds. A trail leads to the summit. We walked a little way up the trail. John and I quickly lost any ambition of reaching the summit, but Pam wanted to head higher. As she headed away, I surveyed the scenery below. To the south was the valley through which we had traveled from the icefield. To the north and west were two more valleys, with the town of Jasper and a chain of small, blue-green lakes in the north valley. I could see the clouds curving around the earth as they neared the horizon. They seemed to be less than 200 feet overhead. A short nap was in order while waiting for Pam to return. The sun warmed my face as a large rock warmed my back. The wind was constant. The clouds blew by.
That's Pam standing on the rock halfway up the first leg of the trail. She went to the top:
That is Jasper on the left, and the Parkway running to the right:
When Pam returned from her hike, we rode the tramcar back down. We headed north on 93 to 16, following the signs for Hinton. The group of riders we had met in Missoula had warned us to bypass Banff and Jasper, unless we were interested in crowds of tourists shopping in tourist stores. The Yellowhead highway, Canada Transcontinental 16, skirted Jasper and led to our planned stop in Hinton. From the junction of 93 and 16, it is about 30 miles out of Jasper National Park.
We had seen no wildlife since the bears near Lake Louise. During our last 30 miles in the park, that changed. The first elk was grazing along the road about five miles past Jasper. We were amazed by the size of the animal, and the effortless way it moved, even carrying a large rack of horns. We stopped and watched as he grazed the grass by the shoulder. Less than a half-mile along the road, we spotted another, and then a couple of miles further, a group of elk.
Mountain goats:
More elk:
Then, as we neared the park boundary, we came across a herd of Bighorn Sheep. Although it was July, they seemed to be still shedding their winter coats. We saw not one moose that we could confirm, but we still had almost fifteen hundred miles across Canada to get home.
We left the park and headed for Hinton.
As we rolled east on the Yellowhead Highway, we came across a sign that read, "SENIC ROUTE TO ALASKA", with an arrow pointing to the left. That road would have to wait for another time, but it was tempting. We headed into Hinton for the night.
The next morning, it was time for the long trip across the Great Plains of Canada. We expected long stretches of road similar to those that cross the plains in the United States. It was a chance to see some of the towns and cities that, to me, had exotic sounding names: Saskatoon, Moose Jaw, Winnipeg, and Thunder Bay.
The landscape was much as we expected. It was flat enough to see the entire length of freight trains transporting grain across Canada's heartland. The major landscape features were huge grain elevators, dwarfing anything I have seen in Illinois.
Elevator and train alongside the Yellowhat Highway:
We had escaped the summer heat during the time we spent in the Canadian parks, but once we left the mountains it was again hot. The drought that was affecting the West seemed to be even worse in Canada. The news reports were full of stories on the drought, as well as a grasshopper infestation. A crop dusting plane flew so low overhead that we instinctively ducked. There were dry, brown depressions that had been lakes in wetter years.
The landscape had its own beauty. Vast fields of grain showed the strength of Canada's agriculture. The sky again seemed to echo the emptiness of the landscape. We could still see the smoke from the forest fire near Glacier Park until we were near Saskatoon, and it made for a colorful sunset.
The forest fires hundreds of miles away were making spectacular sunsets:
We took a detour from the Yellowhead Highway to see the town of Moose Jaw. If a town is named Moose Jaw, and I'm close, I'm going to go see it! It was a nice town, trying to increase tourism by tours of Al Capone's Tunnels, which the bootlegger used to get his liquor secretly to the train station in town. The town was a nice break from the road.
The landscape became prettier as we entered Ontario. We were back into land that had been shaped by glaciers, and the road began to curve as well as rise and fall. We were back in the land of logging, hunting, and fishing. Hwy 17 through the province was an unexpected pleasure.
There were numerous road signs warning of moose, and we kept a watchful eye out as we passes streams and lakes, but saw not a sign of one. Then, as we pulled into a gas station for fuel, we saw him! Standing still, gazing at the road, as if he was waiting for us to see him, a moose. Well, a stuffed moose anyway, decorating the entrance to the gas station. Since he was stuffed, he didn't mind posing for a photograph with us.
Spotted! One moose:
We traveled a little farther, and then stopped at an old motel for the night. The next morning we headed east toward Thunder Bay.
We pulled into Thunder Bay, and rode to the lakeshore. If the size and number of grain elevators was any indication, Thunder Bay was the destination for many of the grain trains we had seen crossing the plains. There was a nice park downtown along the lakeshore, and we relaxed there for a few minutes, enjoying the sights. We had been in Canada for a while, and now home was starting to call from south of the border. We had liked our travels through Canada, but the familiarity of things at home was missed. We saddled up and headed south along the Lake Superior shore toward the United States.
Thunder Bay lakefront:
The border crossing was uneventful, and after entering the United States the road hugged the lakeshore. It was as if the landscape was easing us back into the midwestern flatlands: the rolling hills along the lakeshore were a nice transition from the mountains in our memories to the mostly flat farmlands near home. The beautiful scenery meant that the ride around Lake Superior should be another ride for the future. The views along the road were nice, as were the small towns along the way toward Duluth. The towns along the route seemed to cater to weekenders and lake fishermen from Duluth and the south. They were full of restaurants and souvenir shops.
The "North Shore" in Minnesota:
We planned on stopping at a motel before reaching Duluth, but all we were seeing were no vacancy signs. It was getting dark, and the numerous deer crossing signs were cause for concern. We had to head into the port city of Duluth to finally find a motel. The next morning John took us on a ride up into the hills overlooking Duluth for a view of the city and lake.
View of Duluth from the hills above:
We were faced with a decision: we could make Chicago that evening via superhighways, or head south to the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul and cruise the shore of the Mississippi river to Dubuque. The river won.
We headed for the familiar roads along the river, and as we left the twin cities a bald eagle swooped down near the river. The sight of the bald eagle hunting welcomed us back to the Midwest and home.
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