Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

The hour we lost when we entered British Columbia and “Mountain Time” seems to have had an adverse effect on my sleeping patterns, as this morning I woke at 7.25am, once again not having heard Jim get up and go. With breakfast starting at 7.30am, I quickly showered and then went to the breakfast room, where they have, of all things, a kettle. And tea bags. And real milk. And sugar... So I could start the day with a proper brew...

The group then pulled out of Jasper at 9am, heading out the way I'd gone yesterday when hoping to see Mt Edith Cavell. We took the option of heading up the road that leads to the start of the trail, but due to the low cloud it wasn't possible to see the mountain without trekking half-way up the trail (and “up” is the operative word in that sentence) so I made do with the view from the car park, before heading back down and rejoining H93. Next stop was the Athabasca Falls, a waterfall taking freshwater from the Columbia Icefield (not the one I streaked on, another one) to the Arctic Ocean. It was a very impressive sight, the power of the water evident by the sheer volume of noise it made as it cascaded down from the river into the canyon below...





Naturally, I spent some time just wandering round the waterfall, taking endless pictures whilst messing about with the camera settings. But I won't post them here, or you'll get seriously bored. Instead, I'll bore you with more tales from the road...

By now it was starting to rain, and the big dark clouds gathering in the sky matched those that were gathering in my mind. Ever since exchanging emails with Tracy's mum and the conversation with Tracy yesterday, I'd been feeling gloomy, a strong sense of guilt getting hold of me. Guilt at leaving Tracy to face the trials and tribulations of life without me for 5 months (and life has a habit of throwing a lot of those in her way). Guilt at enjoying myself doing something that Tracy and I had both dreamed of doing together, knowing that she can't do it (at least, not by motorcycle, and that's a big factor in the enjoyment). Guilt at leaving everyone back home and doing this selfish thing. My mood continued to darken as the heavens opened, and I donned my rain gear...

Even riding through stunning scenery, only partially obscured by clouds, couldn't lift my mood. I still stopped to take photos of the views from time to time, but less frequently and with less enthusiasm than normal. And what views. It was easy to understand why these mountains are called “The Rockies”, as they are just that – huge great hulks of rock, with only their lower slopes tinged with the green of vegetation. As the skies cleared, I managed to get one or two half decent photos...





I stopped at Lake Louise for fuel, riding up to the car park that was rammed full of RV's and big 4x4s, then took a short walk to the lake itself, managing to find just enough space on the boardwalk at the lakeside to take a single photo before being crowded out...




I then met up with Gerald and Andy at the bottom of the lake road, where we had a lovely lunch of cream of vegetable soup and garlic bread. With Andy having some things to attend to, Gerald latched on to me and we rode together on the final leg to Radium Hot Springs. The road was the same as before, long sweeping bends joined with long straights and undulating through the countryside, with forest on either side and very little traffic. Coupled with the heat of the day and the thrum of the bike at a steady 65-70mph, I soon found myself struggling to stay focused, almost dozing and yawning constantly. With just 30 minutes to the hotel, I pulled into a lay-by and explained to Gerald that I was in need of 5 minutes to recharge or I'd be asleep... He was relieved, as he was suffering the same way too, so we got off the bikes and walked around for a bit, before rejoining the road. The last section into Radium Hot Springs dropped downhill in a series of very rapid, well-surfaced bends with great visibility, so recharged we hurtled along, rolling the bikes over into the turns and enjoying the sensation of leaning “reet over”... At a couple of points on the descent were “escape lanes” for lorries that have lost their brakes, but unlike in the UK, when such lanes lead to a “gravel trap” affair designed to slow the lorries down, these simply became tracks leading steeply back up the hillside... I wonder what would happen when the lorry, having run up due to lack of brakes finally comes to a stop up the steep incline... surely, it would simply roll back down to the road again?

Eventually we arrived at the hotel, which looked fantastic with a great flower display along the balcony. It looked even better when most of the bikes had turned up and were parked outside, their riders unpacking panniers and chatting about the day...





When I was unloaded and showered, a group of us headed off towards “town” to find somewhere to eat. We stopped at the pub initially, but were none-too-impressed so after a couple of beers we walked back to the Italian restaurant we'd seen on the walk in. The food was really good, I had garlic mushrooms followed by Penne Arrabiata, washed down with a bottle of Peroni and a glass of red wine. Nice...

Back at the hotel around 10pm, we discovered that one of our riders, Andrew, was missing. He'd set off from Jasper later than the group, having wanted to go to the Post Office, and still hadn't arrived. Kevin, Julia and Jeff were naturally concerned, but as he'd opted to leave after the group, he was effectively riding behind the support vehicle, and so would have to deal with any problems himself. But they'd not had a phone call or any contact to let them know what was happening, and he should have been back by now...

There was nothing we could do but wait and see if he turned up...

With that also playing on my mind I went to bed, still not feeling in the best of spirits...