Boom Goes The Alcohol Stove

Despite being warned of there being both a grizzly and a black bear near the campground, I was not consumed or even visited by a bear last night. As mentioned in my previous update though, I had taken the appropriate precautions by stowing what little food I have in a bear-proof storage locker.

In addition to not being bear fodder, I was also fortunate enough to not have to pack up my tent in the rain. There was rain in the area but it was kind enough to wait until later in the day. But it was definitely one of those rainy, sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy, cloudy, sunny days.

Yesterday’s ride to Mosquito Creek put me just 15 km from Bow Pass (2,067 m) – the first of two big passes on the way to Jasper. I don’t know what the second pass will be like but I have to say that I found Bow Pass to be much easier than expected. Actually, I found it easy in general. Either the climb wasn’t that daunting or I’m just getting stronger. Perhaps both.

Upon reaching the top, there was a side road leading to Bow Summit and Peyto Lake. I decided to take it, but it ended up being a short detour. The road led to a couple of trailheads but it was far too early in my ride (not to mention far too wet) to consider a hike so I returned to the Icefields Parkway.

By coincidence, there was a Backroads tour group at that particular intersection at the same time. Backroads offers fully supported (and relatively expensive) cycling trips. They transport your gear. The accommodations are hotels. Meals are provided. The participants just pedal. I first saw them when I turned onto the side road and by the time I returned most of them were already on their way. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty proud of my bike when we not only caught up with but eventually passed several of the riders. And without pedalling. Thanks to a big hill, gravity did much of the work. Even with the extra drag from my panniers, we (my bike and I) were cruising past riders on much newer and much more expensive bikes. Sure, that’s probably a bit petty but it was still fun. On an equally petty side note, I passed some of them while going uphill too.

The best part about crossing Bow Pass is that by necessity it meant that a significant descent would follow. And it was a very significant descent. It was the descent that saw me go sailing past the Backroads group and it was a descent that would eventually lead me to the Saskatchewan River Crossing (aka. The Crossing. aka. Tourist-Gouging headquarters). I’ll admit that I don’t know what the costs are to run such a facility but $3.20 for a popsicle seems a little excessive. Maybe it’s me.

I hung out at The Crossing for about an hour. Not for any particular reason. I think I was waiting for the weather to decide what it was going to do. On more than one occasion I was standing in the sun while the rain fell on me. It was just a weird weather day.

Moments before I got back on the saddle, I met Emily and Ian – cycle tourists from Missoula, Montana. They’ve been on the road for about three weeks and are also heading to Jasper. We had a brief chat about our respective trips before wishing each other well. Given our mutual direction of travel, perhaps our paths will cross again.

Shortly after leaving The Crossing the condition of the shoulders took an unexpected turn for the worse. Much like sections of the Trans-Canada in Manitoba, the shoulder suddenly became a cacophony of not-at-all charming cracks running perpendicular to my direction of travel. The result? Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Every two seconds. Sometimes more. It wasn’t at all pleasant.

To put it clunk in per-clunk-spective clunk, riding on shoulders clunk of this sort clunk is clunk sort of like clunk trying to read CLUNK this sentence. Typing it wasn’t particularly fun either!

Fortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t filled with shoulders of this sort but they definitely made sporadic appearances the rest of the way.

What also made appearances were hills and headwinds. And both were forces with which to be reckoned. The hills were in fact the start of the big climb to Wilcox Pass. And while Bow Pass proved to be very friendly, Wilcox Pass proved to be much less welcoming and certainly the most challenging climb of this westerly journey. Of course, to add to the fun was the arrival of a strong headwind.

Big climbs are a funny thing and I definitely have a love/hate relationship with them. Actually, “hate” is probably a little strong. It’s really hard to describe what the feeling is when faced with such climbs. Obviously there is a very physical element to the climb but there’s also a very big mental component. To paraphrase Yogi Berra, cycling is 90% mental, the other half is physical. It’s all a matter of willing yourself to keep going. And really, what choice is there? Not pedalling won’t get you to top. And so you pedal. And pedal. Slowly. Sure, it’s a bit demoralizing when you notice you’re travelling a mere 6 km/h. But you keep pedalling. After all, it’s better than 5 km/h. Eventually, what once seemed improbably suddenly becomes reality as you reach the top. Unaided. Unbroken. Victory.

At one point during the ride, I stopped on a bridge to both look down at a large waterfall and then to look up to where the road was clearly leading. And it was leading to a lookout point high above my current position. And I knew that lookout point wasn’t anywhere close to the top of the climb. But I also knew that the only way I was going to get to Jasper was up that road. And so I pedalled some more.

Twenty-five long minutes later I reached the lookout point. As one person that I met up there said, “If anyone’s earned the view, it’s you!” And it was a stunning view – even if it’s still a long way from the top. And funnily enough, included in that view was Emily and Ian. I didn’t see them at first but noticed them as they were crossing the bridge – probably coming to the same realization that they too were now about 25 minutes from earning the view.

The rest of the climb continued in much the same way. Pedalling. Pedalling. Occasional groaning. More pedalling. And then it happened. Almost unexpectedly, I arrived at the top. And the long climb became but a distant memory. Okay, it’s not really all that distant. You pretty much remember each and every gruelling moment. But now you strangely remember it fondly. Okay, maybe not fondly. I’m not really selling this very well, am I? What can I say? It’s a great sense of accomplishment.

Other than the big climb, today was also significant as I officially left Banff National Park behind and rode into Jasper National Park. The latter being no less stunning. Particularly the long hill you get to descend as you make your way into the park and, of course, more mountains. And an easy 25 minutes later I arrived at Wilcox Campground – my home for the night.

As homes go, I was fortunate enough to get a site with a rather pleasing mountain view. Not a bad way to end the day. But wait! There was still one small adventure to come. And a very unexpected one at that.

Over the past few days, I’ve been trying to use up the last of my current food supply as much of it has long since passed its “Best Before” date. Side note: How bagels can survive two weeks beyond said date is a bit disturbing. I also had some sausages (refrigeration required? Bah!) and some rice I wanted to finish off. At this point I feel I should point out that one should not underestimate the power of an alcohol stove. Tiny? Yes. Powerful? In their own way.

I had successfully ignited my stove and the lone sausage was heating up nicely. In my world, boiling water is cooking. Did I mention it was still mildly windy? Well it was. As such, the flames from the stove were dancing quite a bit. And, in hindsight, it would seem that leftover methyl-hydrate that remained in the stove from last night had in fact leaked into the tray that holds the burner. Well, let me do a little math for you. Spilled Methyl Hydrate + Dancing flames = A spewed fireball that would make Drew Barrymore proud (yes, I realize how old that reference makes me sound).

Fortunately there was no serious damage done. But there was some damage. Some plastic bags melted and a section of my rain jacket will never be the same. I can safely say that it is no longer entirely waterproof. But it is breathable! All things considered it could’ve been worse – especially since the rain jacket was in an outside pocket of my panniers at the time.

From there I managed to avoid starting any forest fires and the evening passed without further incidents – or explosions. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully I won’t burn down my tent!

Today’s totals:
Distance travelled: 103.22 km
Ride time: 5:58:30
Average speed: 17.27 km/h
Maximum speed: 62.66 km/h