Across the SW Calgary skyline: Banded Peak Group Traverse

Ever since our first weekend in Calgary when Vicki and Tristan took us to Forgetmenot Pond, I’ve wanted to climb these mountains. At a touch less than 10,000 feet , they are not especially high, but they form impressive pyramids that dominate the horizon whenever we drive out to the Rockies or down highway 22 towards home. Banded Peak is the most easily identified, and can be seen clearly from all over the city, even the farthest NW where Simon, my partner for this hike lives.

The route is around 35 km in length, and ascends approximately 8,000 feet. It starts from the Highway 66 / Elbow trailhead, at the confluence of the Big and Little Elbow rivers. The objective is to climb the four highest points of the massif that is cut off from the surrounding ranges by these rivers and the Tombstone Pass. We tackled it anti-clockwise, which seemed a good choice in retrospect, although I have a few ideas on how to make it easier on the legs. Taking it anticlockwise means that you are shielded from the sun during the main climb. That is definitely worth something on a hot day.

Our first attempt was called off at the last minute due to forecasted thunderstorms. Spending the day on a series of lightning conductors in the Front Ranges when the sky is crackling is what’s known as ‘unwise’. Fortunately the next week was clear of bad weather, and the snow that fell during the storms had cleared. By Thursday things were good, and I left Calgary at 0425 to meet Simon. Simon also left at 0425, but only got as far as his truck, where he found he had a puncture. Then other stuff went wrong, and he probably wasn’t very happy for a while.

And so it was 0615 before we hit the trail, and the sun was already lighting the summit of Mt Glasgow ahead of us. The approach trail up the Little Elbow valley from the main car park is about 8.5 km of pleasant walking, contrary to Alan Kane’s description of it as ‘drudgery’. It was my third time up this trail (previous visits were on my MTB), and I still enjoyed it. Simon had never seen the valley and thought it was awesome.

It’s crucial to pick up the exit trail for Mt. Glasgow, or you’ll walk way too far. After about 7.5 km from the parking lot the valley will start to open out, and the river braids. The trail bends left, and at 8.5 km there is a small cut area on the left and a minor (maybe dry) creek bed crosses the road. There’s a reasonably obvious cairn on the right and second cairn in the cutline. If you reach a steep downhill with a cut area (and I think I remember a wooden bench from the MTB trip) on the left immediately before a large creek bed, then you have gone several hundred metres too far.

The trail is narrow, muddy, and will try to kick your ass home in the first five minutes – be warned. After that it lies back a little and climbs into an alpine valley flanked by impressive cliffs. Later you’ll see that the cliffs on the left are actually free-standing to some degree. Don’t be demoralized, but your route takes you up along the top of the headwall in front of you.

The guidebook recommends boulder hopping up a creek after about 20 minutes of ascent, but the guidebook was in my bag, so we went straight up the left side of the valley, following a path of sorts, via a scree tongue. I was worried when I picked up a block of wet rock. The ground was bone dry and I surmised that it must have recently fallen from a water-streaked area of cliff high above us. We cracked on, rueing our lack of helmets, but some minutes later I saw several more blocks and realized that in fact they were blocks of basalt whose dark colour and mineral composition must make their thermal characteristics so different from the surrounding limestone that they condense moisture during the night. Spoddy geophysicist talking? Yes. But finding a wet rock in the middle of a desert is pretty freaky!

After maybe 800 feet of climbing you arrive at a ridge above a bowl. If you’ve followed this route then up, like us, you will probably swear a lot, since you are now faced with an unpleasant descent to the creek, and a worse (actually bit dicey) climb up a steep moraine to gain the level ground in the bowl’s centre. Simon found a way around this by walking up the foot of the moraine to the right until it leveled out. The good news is that if, like us, you thought you were climbing the mountain on your left, you’ll realize that you are actually climbing the one on the right. We agreed that it was a good time to realize that.

The route up Mt Glasgow takes an impressive scree ramp that zigs up to the right for about 1,200 feet, then zags back left up the west ridge of Mt Glasgow. This ridge looks really hard from underneath, but when you get onto it, it’s OK. A tip for avoiding some unpleasant steep scree (other than ‘stay home!’) is to take the very outermost edge of the ramp, which skirts the top of a big cliff, and adds a bit of distance but is both les steep and far easier hiking that going straight up. If you do go straight up, head for the last gully on the right, where there is a small ridge of bedrock to reduce the scree’s potency for slippage. Eventually you’ll hit the ridge. Above looked steep, but there was a path of sorts close to the edge, which I followed. Simon is not keen on heights, so he thrashed up a less solid line to the right. The views at this stage are awesome and to be honest, it’s one of the best parts of the day. The summit arrived sooner than expected, just after a ledge with a convenient bivouac cave, which would shelter two people fairly uncomfortably in a pinch.

The summit (2935 m / 9,629 ft)) was a great place to be. It’s narrow and the west face of the mountain is a precipice with a 3-4000 foot drop a few inches from the summit cairn. From here the view of the next three summits is very clear, unless it’s cloudy, in which case you’ll wonder why you bothered, and whether to continue. We noticed a faint path that skirts below Mt. Glasgow and connects to the Glasgow-Cornwall col. It looked pretty dicey, since a slide would take you over a major cliff band, but maybe it’s OK if you are on it (no doubt it’s not OK if you’re not….). My only complaint was that the summit register tin leaked and was full of horrible flies of every size and variety, which swarmed out and engulfed us. Some of them were nasty biters. I braved the swarm and found that we were apparently only the seventh party to attempt the traverse this year, despite the late stage of summer.

The descent from Glasgow is a minor scramble. Kane says it’s a ‘moderate’ and that Banded is ‘easy’. Compared to UK scrambles, I’d say that Glasgow is easier than Jack’s Rake (which is a classic English ‘easy’), whereas Banded doesn’t require you to touch the rock, so it’s no more a scramble than getting between floors in the Chinook Mall (by the voie normal escalator route, anyhow). If the rock was wet then I’d be circumspect in my descent route off Glasgow, as it’s friable limestone – ‘Notoriously slippery when wet!’ as the ancient Prof. at university barked on every field trip.

The descent from Glasgow was fun, and Simon (an avid non-climber) did really well. Just stay close to the ridge, and once the limestone gives way to shale, stay confident, as each of the three or so steps can be breached via short chimneys, once you’ve cleared them of skateboards. Don’t get too eager though, or you’ll undermine the whole buttress.

From Glasgow, Cornwall appears to be covered in some kind of brown grass, and you’ll be looking forward to some easy romping. This is cruel – you’re actually looking at loose shale scree on a steep slope. Now that I’ve taken away your hope you’ll just have to suffer, although it’s not bare of life – in fact I was amazed by the variety of tiny plants and flowers that manage to cling on in this barren wilderness, and felt guilty about tramping across it. Actually Cornwall was probably the most fun mountain of the four, because it had the short bands of rock to deal with. By the time you reach Banded Peak, you’d give your last litre of water for a few solid outcrops to link together – but who cares, hey? You’ll be as good as home by then…..you reckon.

The ascent of Cornwall (2,978 m / 9770 ft) is the day’s high point. The climb is short enough not to get too boring or tiring (about 300 m) and the summit ridge is a lovely tightrope with fantastic views onto the Front Ranges and beyond. Tombstone Lakes in particular are eye-catching. Less pleasant was the summit register. This time it was swarms of flying ants. The black ones were eating the red ones, and they got bloody everywhere.

From the top of Cornwall the descent was very easy. Lingering snow showed where there must be one hell of a cornice earlier in the year, but otherwise the slopes are great for fast descent. From the saddle, Outlaw is just a short climb away, and the ridge is best taken directly, with the odd rock step (pass the biggest one on its right hand side). It’s the easiest ascent of the day. The summit of Outlaw Peak (2,970 m/9,744 ft) is pleasant, but the summit register………well, let’s just say don’t open the casket. I could not face putting my hand into the insect hordes that awaited I case the Mutant Six Legged Queen awaited me in her lair beneath. While we sat on the summit, Simon was dive-bombed by a screeching kestrel. That was pretty weird, since we were several thousand feet above where I’d expect to find a bird that eats mice, but after a careful look around, we realized that there was a bunch of sandpipers on the ridge. In turn, we found that the sandpipers were feasting on millions of little hoppers that were trapped in the snow. I have no idea where they came from, or how the birds knew that it was worth flying 5,000 feet above their normal haunt to exactly this patch of snow for a feast. It was an amazing little temporary food chain to discover this high up, and apart from a deer and a pika on the walk out, the only life we saw in 14 hours, until we saw people back at the parking lot.

There is no path between the summit of Glasgow and the Outlaw-Banded col, which is not a problem (in clear conditions) but it does mean that when you leave the Outlaw summit ridge, you’ll wonder where on earth to descend. We followed the ridge east, then descended a scree ramp some way, before just launching downhill. For the one and only time on this outing, the running was good, and we flew down to the col, 300 m below. The abyss below was impressive, as was the line taken by the faint path up Banded Peak. To pick this up, identify a bench in the hillside a third of the way up the hillside between the col and the summit. There’s a triangular black rock on top of the bench, and two faint paths are visible raking from left to right below it. We took the right-hand one. This takes a straight line up the mountain from the bench to the summit, and is a surprisingly easy walk.

The summit of Banded Peak is very similar to that of Mt. Glasgow and only a metre lower (2,970 m/9,626 ft). I was relieved to be able to trace our descent route below the summit cliffs, but more relieved to find that the summit register was airtight, and lacking in biting nasties. The register suggested that we were the 4th party to complete the traverse during 2009, although it was harder to spot than the others, so maybe other parties had not completed the register.

Now comes the hard part. After celebrating completion of the traverse, it’s a nasty surprise that awaits below. You’re really only about halfway around the circuit, and if like us you are smug in the knowledge that the secret short cut espoused by Alan Kane and Dave Stephens is going to get you home in time for an early evening beer, then you’re probably in for a bitter disappointment. We followed their advice and traversed from the Banded-Outlaw col, all the way round the summit cone, and back to a col, maybe 2 km from our start point, but only a few hundred metres as the crow flies. I’m not sure why we couldn’t have got here anti-clockwise from the summit a lot faster, but then again, when we reached the suggested descent point, it was bloody horrible – several hundred feet of nasty, yellow-stained unstable scree on a steep slope. We made it down eventually though. Below this descent is a lovely valley, which leads to the fabled horse trail. Don’t miss this, or you’ll end up above Cornwall Falls and have to backtrack a long way.

The walk out was pretty hard work as I had run out of water, and my blisters (caused by that stinking scree traverse off Banded Peak) were no longer funny. The first people we saw in 14 hours of hiking were a couple on the pink suspension bridge with 500 m to go. I managed to lose over 2 kg in weight, despite drinking 4-5 litres of water this day. Simon’s truck was a very welcome sight. He turned on the air con and suddenly I was having fits of shivering – I think my heat management system had gone on the blink after a day of hard exercise in relentless sunshine. Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything!

For those wishing to do this hike, suggested impedimenta include:

· Walking poles (essential for avoiding face plants);
· Boots (although admittedly Simon wore trainers with gaiters – he has strong ankles from doing mad stuff like the Death Race);
· Water. I drank over 4 litres and should have taken another 3. It was hot and there is zero shade. A hat is a good idea too;
· Bear spray;
· Maps (Gem Trek Kananaskis Lakes and Bragg Creek);
· Torch; and
· Spare sense of humour.

We carried a Spot locator beacon too, to see how well it worked – the summits do have cell reception, but having the beacon gave our partners peace of mind.

Full photo album here.

Kayaking on Upper Kananaskis Lake

There seems to be a direct correlation between distance traveled from Calgary and the quality of the lake paddling. This trip went a little further than Lower Kananaskis Lake and the reward was more impressive scenery, and a lake that's fairly circular (unusual for the larger lakes in this glaciated area) , so you can spread out a bit, and not always be close to the shore.

It was meant to be a beautiful day in the mountains and worth making a five hour round trip for. The day certainly started out sunny, and I had hopes of paddling about 14 km round the shore.

The lake was pretty popular and there was a massive group of paddlers out, with several bizarre-looking sea kayaks equipped with double outriggers. I suspect they were stabilizers for novice paddlers. The only bad thing about Upper K Lake is the powerboat access, which can make it a bit noisy at times.

After about 45 minutes, the cloud was building and we decided to cut the trip short, taking in a couple of islands on the way back. We got caught in a squall on the way to the middle of the lake, and were glad to beach on the first island, which was a perfect lunch spot. It also appeared to be a perfect camping spot, but sadly after we had cirumnavigated it, Lou spotted a sign saying 'No Camping' - you can see why, as every redneck with an outboard would be partying here all summer long if not. We did spot a campfire and tent on the far side of the lake though, so there is still potential for a paddle and camp in this area.


Once we left the island, the wind and waves built pretty quickly, and were hitting us abeam, which made for a fun paddle home. My boat got swamped leaving the beach, before I could get my deck back on.

We got back to the slip as the rain started, and we got drenched loading the boats. Still, better to be on land than caught out by the thunderstorm, like the guys in this photograph!

Here's the full album link.

Cat Creek Falls

When the cloud is down and the mountains are invisible from Calgary, then you'll probably have the trails to yourself. Ronnie and Margi were visiting from Liverpool, and after half a day recovering from my Jasper-Banff cycle ride, we drove down to the bottom of Highway 40 for a leisurely stroll through a thunderstorm to the Cat Creek Falls.

I posted some pictures of this hike here.

My waterproof camera was well suited to conditions, but Lou got some nice shots on her camera - here's one of our guests enjoying the Rockies rain.

Coyote Moon, Coots Pond, Cemetery Circuit

When you just want a nice quiet ride without any hills and a bit of indulgence, this is the ticket. It's a 30 km circuit with a great cafe half way round. The cafe is the Coyote Moon in Turner Valley and it's pretty popular with two-wheelers of both varieties. The owner seems to be making a real effort with her customers, and we enjoyed the food. They sell beer too. There are some decent wildlife pictures on the wall that are for sale, although in our (maybe slightly biased) opinion they're not as good as Lou's friend Karen's photos.

The ride starts where the Coots Pond Road hits the Millarville road (549) about 1250 m east of Highway 22. It's a simple rectangle - take 549 west (against the wind), 22 south (against the wind), stop at the cafe for lunch, then ride east towards Black Diamond (against the wind), and north back to the car (guess what - this is the Foothills, the wind will be against you again).

Cycling from Jasper to Banff

This ride was my big one for 2009. It's the reason I shed 5 kg and didn't go rock climbing all summer. The thought of failing on the Sunwapta Pass after all that effort was not to be entertained. Jasper to Banff is about 295 km along the Icefields Parkway, via Sunwapta Pass, Saskatchewan Crossing, Bow Summit, Lake Louise and the Bow Valley Parkway. We rode it in three days, as a team of four, with two support drivers also managing to ride some of it, and two guest riders joining us partway through. The internet is crammed with people piling on the superlatives about 'one of the greatest rides in the world' - personally I lack the experience to qualify that statement, but it was better than my last multi-day cycling trips, which both involved riding through the industrial estates of Telford. It was also a bit harder. It's par for the course that one of the top Google search records is the Grauniad's cycling corespondent's Top Ten, and she doesn't rate it, preferring instead a 30 mile ride on the outskirts of London. I think perhaps she needs to get out a bit....or just give up writing. If you just want to see the pictures from this ride, to check whether it is indeed more scenic than a view of the Wrekin complemented by Ironbridge Power Station, then here are the links:

Day 1: Jasper to Columbia Icefield









Day 2: Columbia Icefield to Bow Lake



Day 3: Bow Lake to Banff

I managed to squeeze in a quick ride the night before we started the main journey. Lou and Caroline dropped me at Medicine Lake, from where there is a lovely 27 km descent to Jasper. The temperature that evening was in the upper 20s, and I got a top speed of around 78 kph, which wasn't to be bettered all weekend. I also had two close shaves with idiots in cars (a pizza delivery boy and a Japanese tourist) that would set the scene for the ride - you have to assume that every driver on the Icefields Parkway is an imbecile, even (and especially) the 'professional' ones. I got to the hotel to find the party had begun - Hamish had packed 18 bottles of wine 'just in case', plus whisky and beer. We'd be alright!

Day 1: Jasper to Columbia Icefield. 106 km.

The first day can be summed up in one word: uphill. You climb steadily all day, then finish with two steep sections on the Sunwapta Pass. The forecast was hot, and the forecast was right (for once), with the Sunwapta Pass arriving at 96 km and 30 C. The riding is dead simple - join the Icefields Parkway and stay on it, following the Athabasca river upstream. This river flows to the Arctic Ocean via the Albertan Oil Sands; the next two rivers (Saskatchewan and Bow) flow to Hudson Bay and thus the Atlantic. You pass the sources of the Bow and Athabasca during the ride.

The morning riding was pleasant, constantly uphill, but allowing us to make good time. There was one issue that began immediately, of which we had been warned. The road was built in sections and between each section is a seam. These start off 20 m apart, but in places they occur every 1-2 m and start to become a real pain in the back - aluminium framed bikes and skinny racing tyres at 110 psi probably don't help much here. It's not the Paris-Roubaix, but it's enough to annoy you. Fortunately, there's not a road in the western world that hasn't been dug up by the cable guys, so for the full distance between Jasper and Lake Louise, you can ride on the patched asphalt, which appears to have been laid without a break. The down side is that it's narrow (eight inches), rougher than the road, and often slightly elevated.

We got a bit strung out in the morning. John was recovering from a nasty cold, and riding a very heavy bike (it much have been twice the weight of Hamish's new carbon-framed toy), so he was riding a bit slower than Neil. That led to Neil and I being ahead and out of sight of Hamish and John. We stopped at Athabasca Falls for a pee and to wait for the guys. They had a radio so in theory we just had to wait until they came into range and tell them where we were. Unfortunately Hamish hadn't turned his on, and we were extremely fortunate to spot a flash of blue through the forest, that was John passing by on the road above the falls, otherwise we'd have lost a lot of time.


We set off in pursuit of John, and could see Hamish a km or so ahead, riding hard away from us. It transpired that he was trying to catch Neil, but Neil was now behind him, trying to hunt him down. The dog chased its own tail for several km beyond the falls, but when Neil got to within maybe 300 m of Hamish, two bear cubs came barreling across the road between them. Neil and John did very swift U turns and retreated, waiting for mum to appear. Hamish rode on, quite oblivious to the situation - he was pissed off later!

Eventually we regrouped at Sunwapta Falls, where we did a great job of avoiding the bar, with its promise of ice-cold beer. We met the support team here (Caroline had almost taken the turning up the Yellowhead by mistake - that would have been a long wait for lunch!), and arranged to meet again at Bubbling Springs for food. Unfortunately the signpost is only visible when you are headed north, so we rode past it, and in doing so became rebels and minor folk heroes for an hour.

In Canadian parks people generally do what they're told. Tell someone you're hiking off-trail and you're likely to get a frown in response. Admit that you can use a compass and people will ask you why you need one. It's not like the UK - trails are laid out and 99.9% of people stick to them. Parking lots and picnic areas are provided, and that's where you stop to eat. Maybe it just makes life easier for the bears - they know where every hamper in the park will be between 12 and 2. Well, we'd missed the turning and we were hungry, so we pulled up on the roadside and laid out a delicious picnic that Caroline and Lou had prepared that morning. A healthy spread too - tuna sandwiches, olives, vegetables and hummus, and not a breadcrumbed eyeball, spicy sausage roll or Cheezey Pleezer in sight. (I coped, and somehow didn't lose any weight all weekend). As we enjoyed this princely spread, traffic streamed past on the Parkway 50 m away. Cars tooted and people waved, bikers punched the air, and fellow cyclists shouted greetings as the passed. We felt that we had somehow crossed a line into a place they all feared to tread but regarded in fleeting envy - or maybe there was a grizzly just down the riverbank that we couldn't see.

After lunch, the wind increased (a headwind, of course) and the road started to climb. Google Maps had told me that Day 1 was 97 km, and various internet sources had claimed that the Sunwapta was 12 km long and steep all the way, so we were not excited about the forthcoming tussle with gravity. The blacktop rolled on by, and soon we were at 96 km - job done! Erm...no. The internet had lied. Google Maps had lied. And we’d been suckered in. The pass begins at around 97 km, although for several km before this, the road climbs more steeply and the valley is wide open to the blasting wind, insidiously sapping your strength and softening you up for the kick in the face to follow. There’s no mistaking the start of the climb when you see it at the end of the valley though – it’s a proper ‘Oh F*ck! hill’.

I'd been sticking close to Neil since lunch, but I knew that on the hill his fitness and lighter physique would carry him away like a leaf on the wind, while I gasped, sputtered, panted and dragged my fat backside up the mountain and the same wind that blew Neil up to the pub poked me in the eye and pushed me back down. Sure enough, I would have waved goodbye to him on the first climb if it had been possible to let go of the handlebars wthout falling off, and after 500 m I was ready for a lie down in the rest area, where the support team waited with water. Only the thought of Hamish and John overtaking me prevented me from getting off my bike for a little while...like, until tomorrow. By now the temperature was 30C and riding was reduced to a few tens of metres in the saddle, then a few stood up in a high gear, then back to the granny ring. Sweat was pouring off me - I think I drank 7 litres of Powerade that day.

I'd been told by two ladies who I met atop the Highwood Pass that the Sunwapta was no harder a ride than that pass - more misinformation! The total climb is maybe similar, but whereas the Highwood rises steadily for nearly 1,000 m across 62 km, the Sunwapta climbs very gently for 92 km, then begins to ramp up, and just gets ever steeper. Lou took these pictures of me on the hill - and that's not even the steepest part.

The problem with swallowing all this misinformation was that after the initial steep section, you get to a turnoff, where the road ahead bends left, through a cutting, then you see it turn another corner high above you, and disappear. I took my second stop at this point, and reckoned that if the pass was 12 km and the steepest part was at the end, then I’d maybe done 1 km, and would be riding in the car pretty soon.

Fortunately, the steepest part of the pass is actually in that first 2.5 km. The cutting that carries the road round the bend shields you from the wind, and the verge is maybe 3-4 m wide, so you can even zig-zag if necessary (John assures me that this was indeed necessary). You turn the corner expecting to climb again, only to find that you’ve made it – the next 5 km comprise a superb downhill followed by a gentle climb through Graveyard Flats and a last 6% section to the hotel. The downhill was fast (maybe 65 kph) and contained bonus items – tourons and Bighorn Sheep wandering about in the steep, narrow road. I’m not sure which were less aware of their surroundings, but at least the sheep had a good reason to stand in the road with their mouths open.

So finally we arrived at the hotel. A small child punched me in the nuts with an apple, John arrived like a conquering champion, and we all sat around looking at the glacier until Hamish opened his mobile wine cellar. We were joined at this stage by Hamish and Caroline’s son Ben, and his fiancé Lindsey, who had ridden from Jasper that morning, leaving a long time after us, and arriving just behind us – these guys are both seriously fit triathletes.

A quick mention should be made of the hotel and restaurant, by way of advice for anyone reading this and thinking of doing the ride. The hotel is ideal for cycle touring – good storage facilities and big rooms. The restaurant is not good and I would recommend taking a BBQ and cooking your own dinner by the car. The saving grace of the restaurant was that they had an excellent super-friendly waiter who was very helpful, and the corkage on the wine wasn’t so prohibitive that it would justify buying poor wine at inflated prices from the restaurant owners.

View picture library from Day 1


Day 2: Columbia Icefield to Bow Lake 97 km

The next morning dawned clear and blue again, with wisps of cloud soon vanishing from the summits of Mounts Andromeda and Athabasca. We were all up early and ready to ride, after a sizeable breakfast. Actually, we weren’t all quite so sharp that morning – Caroline was regretting her whisky consumption, and spent a while contemplating the scenery. With John feeling the pain from yesterday, and having nothing to prove (it was his third time on this route), the riders for the morning became Lou, Hamish, Neil, Ben, Lindsey and myself. Lou was to ride the first 15 km or so, over the pass and down the Big Bend. Ben and Linsdey would ride with the main party to Bow Summit, about 90 km away, then turn and ride back 40 km to a hostel.

The conditions were perfect. No wind; smooth asphalt (briefly), barely any traffic, and the scenery that rolled by was amazing and totally distracting. We soon covered the 15 km to Big Bend and ripped down it to the valley floor below. The road was clear of gravel, but on the last bend before the start of the Big Bend there is a tourist pull-out, which is dangerously placed, as people lurch in and out of it without warning, their eyes fixed on the wonders of valley below, and not on the road. I’m sure that if large trucks were allowed on the Parkway then a string of accidents and dead tourons would have closed that viewpoint long ago.
Beyond the Big Bend Lou, Hamish and I regrouped and took some photos. Lou was really enjoying the ride, and decided to continue 35 km to Saskatchewan Crossing. She rode it really well. Early on this stage you pass the Weeping Wall, a world-famous ice climbing venue that I have yet to pluck up the courage to drive to – the climbing doesn’t bother me anywhere near as much as the likely road conditions. Cool air was difting from the forest, blankets of flowers lined the road, and blue mountain walls towered beyond the closest cliffs; this was the section of the ride that I enjoyed the most.

The road descends gradually to Saskatchewan Crossing, passing numerous mountains, side valleys and glaciers. After being spoilt by the scenery and easy riding, the crossing itself is a real shock. There’s a gas station and a massive tat shop, thronged with fat caravan-towing people desperately trying to throw their money away on something -anything - to take home. Maybe they are all just buying tacky gifts for people they don’t like – in which case they must have a lot of dodgy relatives! The parking lot is a zoo and not somewhere to linger unless you like petrol fumes, pounding music and discarded trash. You’re better off filling up in Jasper and waiting until you reach Lake Louise. Fortunately there’s a great little picnic spot just 400 m south of the gas station, with spectacular views of the Saskatchewan and Howse Rivers, and a toilet block (no water though). We spent an enjoyable while here, fortifying ourselves for the next stage – a 40 km steady climb to Bow Summit.

The road drops steeply down to the North Saskatchewan River from this point, and you’re very aware of the height that you now need to regain in the afternoon sun. There’s an immediate steep section to get out of the valley bottom, and then a continuous gentle uphill for 25 km to the start of the main Bow Summit approach. During the afternoon, Lindsey started to feel a bit low – probably too much sun- and this meant that she and Ben slowed to the point where I could actually keep up with them. It’s probably the one and only time I’ll be able to write that! It was during this section that I came closest to a wipe-out – a caravan (trailer) came past me at 100+ kph, driving right on the edge of the lane, with its entrance steps left down. I felt the rush of wind as they passed a couple of inches from my legs.
The main hill to Bow Summit goes on forever. I didn’t measure it but it must have been 5-7 km in length, at a steady gradient all the way. Poor Lindsey was battling the sun, the hill, and a horsefly that just would not leave her alone. She pushed through it though. We had another near miss on the hill, with a Japanese tourist in a rental car assuming that they could somehow drive through the bikes instead of slowing down and using the overtaking lane, so long as they kept up their speed and used the horn.
The top of Bow Summit was a welcome place to arrive, as it signaled the summit of the last long hill on the ride. Tomorrow would be mostly downhill. It was still hot (29C) and we were glad to roll the last few km to our hotel, the Numti Jah Lodge, although Hamish and I did find energy to stop and have a good shout at a coach driver who had nearly hit him on the road a few minutes earlier – again, thinking that there was no need to change lanes when overtaking. The tour guide’s excuse was priceless: ‘he is an old man, he does not see so well’. Oh, that’s OK then folks.
Numti Jah is set in a fantastic location on Bow Lake, with views of the Crowfoot and Bow Glaciers. Once the coach parties departed, and only their scattered trash remained (why do they come here?) it was a beautiful, serene spot to explore. We took a lot of photographs and enjoyed a glass or two of beer, wine, and kia before dinner. (Hamish’s cellar was in fact running a little dry by the end of the evening, so my advice would be to triple your estimated wine requirement before leaving Calgary). Dinner was pretty reasonable at $67 fixed price for three courses, and the food and service were great. The lodge was built in the early 20th Century, and the downstairs is all pine log walls and stuffed animals, like a fancy Alpine climbing hut with dead stuff staring at you. Upstairs is less sumptuous, and the walls and plumbing could do with renovation, but the view of the glacier from the window made much of this forgivable. It was a great place to stay, and only John was bothered by the thin walls and wooden floor; the rest of us slept through the early morning commotions of our amorous neighbours. I recommend alcohol and BioEars when staying here!
Day 3: Bow Lake to Banff 93 km
The final day dawned perfect again, although in Calgary they’d had killer weather. All we had seen of it were some weird pink towers of cloud late the night before. From the Numti Jah it’s pretty much downhill all the way home, although there are a few small, steep hills to remind you of where you are. The morning riding was lovely, and fairly peaceful until we neared Lake Louise. I rested for a while in a roadside carpet of flowers until we all regrouped, and then we rolled onto Highway 1A – the Bow Valley Parkway – for the final 50 km leg. In the morning John had ridden a stretch, but Caroline took over at the Icefields Parkway pass check, joining Hamish, Neil and myself. Hamish and Caroline sported his ’n’ hers cycling tops from some distant cycling destination….again.
The Bow Valley Parkway was a fantastic run. The views of the Sawback Range and into the Valley of The Ten Peaks were superb and all the better seen from a bike. The road was downhill overall, with a couple of steep little hills. Three sections of divided highway were amongst the most pleasant sections of the ride, as the road only splits when it hits interesting terrain. Johnston Canyon was a bit of a zoo, with RVs lining the road, and unpredictable drivers all over the place. Other than that the riding was quiet and made for a fitting final day. We lunched at Castle Junction, but the addition of a tablecloth, whilst aesthetically pleasing, allowed a horsefly to feast unmolested down below. When I finally noticed it, I had five bites and blood running down my leg. It died slowly.
From Castle Junction we picked up speed and in no time we were at the Trans Canada. Perhaps we should have stopped there, but it felt like we had not quite made it, so we joined the Trans Canada. In the space of five minutes’ riding, we had two very near misses; the first when a motorcycle tried to undertake down the verge at perhaps 140 kph, and the second when a tourist tried to turn off the road through us. It was a relief to escape alive. It's a shame the Town of Banff, Banff Park and the Highway Dept can't collaborate to improve this situation – there is a perfectly good access road that links the Parkway to the Vermillion Lakes turn-off but they have run a wildlife fence between the highway and the lakes, with no access gate for cyclists, a link which could make the Banff-Lake Louise ride a great summer rental draw for tourists.
Finally we were rolling down the Vermillion Lakes road, and the trip was over. We posed for a couple of quick pictures in front of Mt. Rundle, then a massive thunderstorm hit, and we ran for Calgary, the post-ride party, and the airport to pick up our friends who were arriving from the UK that evening. Awesome!