Friday July 24th
Rhona’s been running a temperature with a sore throat for 3 days and as we’re heading out of civilization and didn’t fancy taking a swine flu victim with us (ok, we were actually more concerned it was her usual tonsillitis) I took her off to the $100 a visit local doctor (here’s hoping the medical insurance pays up as readily as it claimed before we purchased!). Needless to say, the doctor was English and his sister lives in Madrid, so the illusion of being on the other side of the world was somewhat shaken.
Penicillin in hand, we left town, driving down the beautiful Maligne Lake Road for some 38km of breathtaking views, lakes and pausing for the occasional deer. We did the Moose Lake trail, singing loudly to ward off passing bear and caribou, but it was not until Angus, Maya and I were on the water, canoeing with great élan down the vast Maligne Lake that we had one of those “Oh my God we’re in Canada” moments, spotting a young moose grazing along the shoreline.
After picnicking, we drove back to Jasper (last petrol for 158km which is not something you say often in Europe) and set off into the National Park itself along the Icefield Parkway. This route, which crosses 2 national parks, is the only road connection between Jasper and Banff some 250km to the south-east. National Geographic classed it in the top 10 world drives and for good reason: mile upon mile of mountains on either side and startling turquoise lakes (turquoise due to rock flour, a type of fine sediment).
The attractions of nature were not enough to calm the bickering Barclay Pickering sisters, but harmony was restored when we arrived at our home for the next 2 nights. When sorting the accommodation for the trip, I’d try to include a variety of different styles and the girls were somewhat dubious at the prospect of this wilderness hostel: shared bunkroom, no showers, no flush toilets in the middle of nowhere. However, nowhere just happened to be a forest surrounded by mountains, cosy log cabins, a warm comfortable communal kitchen and sitting room, a campfire pit where mice and ground squirrels scampered and braver travellers (who’d all hiked or cycled in) exchanged tales of cougar sightings, techniques for avoiding bear attacks while backwoods camping and details of their latest ice climbs. Who needs showers when you have a wood-fired sauna to steam off the dirt and your own private white water creek in which to plunge when you’ve built up a sweat. The consensus was that this communal, telly- and flush- free hostel was the best stay of the trip.
