Blog English – Arminius-on-tour

The rangers at the campground reception explicitly reminded us of not leaving any food or garbage outside to avoid critters visiting us. Storing food in a car is fine since bears do not break open cars here. For tenting bicyclers or motorbike drivers bear proof storage compartments stand by. A cooler isn’t an adequate protection. You shouldn’t even cook inside the tent not to get the food smell into the tent. Never wear clothes used while cooking when you sleep. A bear might mix up “food” and “human” with inconvenient consequences for “human”. Garbage has to be stored in containers with patent catches that can’t be opened by bears. This morning an odd track surrounds our truck. It is a thick pad with five claws – a bear on nightly patrol? Now we know that precautionary measures are absolutely reasonable.

At Maligne Lake, 30 km above Maligne Canyon, you can do several hikes. There is a bear warning for Opal Hills Loop, but the trail isn’t closed yet. There is nothing to stop us. Although the trail is with 8.2 km pretty short, it is classified as quite strenuous, because for instance on a stretch of only 3 km you have to cope with 460 m elevation gain. We are puffing the first kilometres through forest and over marshland. At the same time, a Dutch couple started with us. They walk in similar pace and hike as taciturnly as we do. We don’t want to chase away the game, we want to watch it. Fortunately they don’t have a bear bell or something like that to tell the animal kingdom miles in advance: A human is coming. A Japanese group is chatting behind us. A young elk buck is hesitatingly crossing our way. It is only one of dozens we are getting to see today. The group behind us is screaming more frightened than astonished. Possibly it has seen the elk now. Luckily we don’t hear anything else from it later. We lost it or it has left the dangerous terrain.

A couple of kilometres further my hair stands on end the first time. We find altogether five bear scats on a few hundreds of metres on the path, each two together and a single one, all of them quite fresh. Can a single bear put so many huge poops into being? Obviously bear use, as game do, human hiking trails for movement. That’s after all more comfortable than going cross-country. In front of the last ascent we are walking above the tree-line along a high plateau, or much more a high valley. It is a couple of hundreds of metres wide and some kilometres long, surrounded by several peaks. It is peaceful and quiet up here, grasses grow and flowers bloom. We are crossing two burbling creeks and are enjoying the mountain scenery. If we knew at this point how close we already have been to the bears, we wouldn’t have walked here so calmly. In the end of the marked hike we are once more realizing, there is a way up further and higher. So we are shouldering the backpack and starting again. Instead of turning right to the sea view we are deviating to the left where we can overview the high valley that we just passed through.

In the beginning we are thinking it must be a piece of wood (above the tree-line?), but a glance through the binoculars is revealing: A dark brown grizzly bear mum with her two blond kinds is sleeping here cuddling up to one another closely. The cubs must be from last year; they are nearly as big as their mother. We are watching and photographing this beloved and cute image for quite a while from purportedly safe distance from the other side of the river. One of the kids is waking up, roaming around, and returning; eventually the rest of the family is waking up and starting to move – in our direction! Despite they are plodding without rush they are coming closer incredibly fast. Yet they crossed the creek and are coming up the slope we are standing on. We could shout now, make noise, talk, ring with not existing bear bells, use the existing emergency whistle from the backpack, or draw somehow their attention. We don’t do anything. We are too fascinated of the spectacular site met our eyes. The Dutch are taking flight, it becomes too nasty. They can’t run that fast, they mean. It is too late to run anyway in view of the speed the animals can display. Furthermore, running should be the stupidest thing we could do now. The distance still seems sufficient not to be dangerous. In this moment one of the cubs is lifting its snout; it has found our scent. The two others are discovering us as well. They are watching us for a moment, and instantly turning off heading to the valley where two unsuspecting hikers are walking and where we moved just half an hour ago. The bear mother shows, as rangers call it, good behaviour. She avoids contact to humans, that’s why this path isn’t closed yet. Just now I am realizing that I’ve got goose flesh that probably comes more from chilliness than from excitement. We are starting to put on clothes, the waterproof jacket immediately after that, because it is starting to rain. It is too late for a picture of the lake; it is wet, cold, and threatening. We are enjoying the outlook for a moment, but it is too dark for a photo. Not to be unfair: Up here we have met a group of distinctively nice Japanese. The descent is even more steep than the ascent, but done in an hour. Altogether we managed the about 10 km and 1300 m of elevation in three hours plus a rest and bear watching.

On our way to the next camping, now in sunshine again, there are more elk, deer, Rocky Mountain sheep, and mountain goats. We will sleep at Pocahontas Campground, a former coal mining area that is dedicated to tourism now.

Sunwapta Falls, our first stop today, show the enormous power of water. Chaba River carved deeply into the rock, falls several metres into the depth, squeezes again with high pressure through a crevice, bangs on the opposite side against a rock face where it slowly washes out a cave, and eventually bends in a 90°-angle.

Next stop: Athabasca Falls. Also there a certain amount of water drops a determined amount of metres into the depth. Very nice, but one day there are enough pictures of lakes, waterfalls, and deer. The parking lot is nearly full despite rainy weather.

Via a side road we want to go to Jasper city to fill up with diesel and get some food. A glance to the right, here it plods. It is an adult grizzly bear, although not as big as the last one. It’s roamering through the forest; it’s just not possible to get a picture of it. Fortunately there is a forest path where we can turn off, and a clearing. The grizzly is sniffing around the meadow, we get some photos, and quickly he’s gone into the wood. We drive down to the highway to maybe catch him again, but we see only two deer fleeing. Few hundreds of metres further a herd of elk mothers with their white-spotted fawns are crossing the road. Grizzly bears, wolfs and cougars are predators of adult elks, fawns and young animals are hunted by coyotes, black bears, and lynx. Today’s grizzly shouldn’t be our last one…

In Jasper we accidentally run into a pizzeria that has got TV. UEFA world cup game Germany vs. Uruguay is running. Germany wins 3:2 and is now world champion in achieving the 3^rd place. At least something.

On continuing our trip we finally find mountain goats, licking minerals on the side of the road. They are short-haired and light brown now; they already lost their splendid long white winter fur.

Maligne Canyon is a must in Jasper NP. The ravine with the fateful name is famous. An actually small creek engraved down to 50 metres into the limestone. At the same time it forms waterfalls, rapids, openings, natural bridges, washouts, and overhangs. In some places you can’t see the brook since it is only a few metres wide and it cut the rock zigzagging on the way down so that the view to the water is obstructed. Just the sound of rapidly flowing water remains – from far down. The park management built six bridges over the canyon at the most interesting sites. You walk sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left side of Maligne River and you get exciting photos everywhere.

Night temperature was with 2° tonight just above freezing point. Generally on the Icefield Parkway there is always night frost except in July and August. The road takes us further north. We are ascending to nearly 2100 m, descending to 1400 and up again. Right beside there is Saskatchewan River, still a brook, having the strangest colour I ever saw in a river. It contains enough rock meal to be milky-opaque. On the other hand enough glacier mud is already deposited and set minerals free to give it a turquoise colour. Saskatchewan River is baby blue like tiles in Soviet-Russian bathrooms.

The famous Columbia Icefield is about 200 sq km, more than 250 m thick in certain areas, and feeds six glaciers. In an average year snowfall is seven metres. Glaciers form where more snow falls in winter than melts each summer. Over time and under pressure, the snow compacts into glacial ice and moves under the force of gravity downhill. Nowadays most glaciers are retreating. Athabasca Glacier is one of the most accessible glaciers in the world and focus of many visitors in the area. Since the end of the 19^th century it has retreated 1.5 km, and has lost more than two thirds of its volume and more than half its surface area. Under the glacier 8000 years old forest was found. The more the glacier retreats, the more living nature captures back the terrain and new forest comes into being. Which part of climate change is natural development, which one is manmade? We are not going to know that in this age.

You can visit Athabasca Glacier in different ways: Special glacier busses bring the queuing tourists for few minutes to the ice field. It’s you to decide if it’s worth the money. Second option is a guided hike with a ranger, probably an interpretive way of discovering the ice. Another possibility is a short hike from a parking lot to the glacier toe. You are not allowed to walk on the glacier there due to safety reasons, but you can see it very well. The self-guided trail with many charts is very informative. Columbia Icefield is a hydrological apex, the meeting point of three continent-wide watersheds. Meltwaters flow into three rivers – Columbia, Saskatchewan, and Athabasca River – and into three oceans: the Pacific, the Atlantic, and the Arctic Ocean. But before, its freshwater is a source of life for millions of people.

There is another opportunity to admire the ice field, and we started today with it. The most beautiful tour is a hike to Wilcox Pass. The first four kilometres lead through conifer woods of the subalpine zone into the treeless alpine area above around 2200 m. The first 335 m elevation gain is moderately steep, but still good to manage. Microclimate today is strange: The sun shines summerly warm, but the wind blowing down from the mountain peaks is pleasantly refreshing. Up on the top we walk on a plateau, a kind of upland moor, and have to cross a river hopping from stone to stone. The high plateau is a lovely landscape with small peaks growing from it. It looks like Scotland, but 2000 metres higher. In the end of the marked hike you definitely should put up with two more kilometres and a couple of metres of elevation, going cross-country over some hills and snowfields to get to the lookout. Use existing tracks and paths used by game to protect the fragile alpine fauna. The peak welcomes us with glacier-cold constant wind and a view to Columbia Icefield, more glaciers and the Rocky Mountain chain that was worth every metre. We think: one of the most beautiful hikes we’ve done.

Dress code is pretty interesting today. There are visitors on the glacier with knit cap, scarf, gloves, boots, and winter coat. I do well understand them. But there are lost tourist trudging through the snow with baby doll and sandals. This doesn’t seem easy because the wind tries to lift the short skirt and tries to show the slip. Is it possible to get frostbites on the bum?

In the Icefield Centre we do not only get better material for Jasper National Park with hints for the hikes and background information. The ranger is very knowledgeable and is willing to share her knowledge when feeling serious interest. In the end she betrays not only the best trails, but where we find elk, Rocky Mountain Sheep, mountain goat, and grizzly bear. She will be so right…

Travelling means farewell. As soon as you found new friends you are leaving them. We want to get back to the national Parks where we interrupted our trip. John recommends a scenic route that we partially didn’t see yet.

We are going back to Kananaskis Country: Bow Valley Provincial Park, Peter Lougheed PP, and Spray Valley PP, one more beautiful than the other. We see moose, deer and many squirrels; beautiful foothill and alpine landscapes, mountains and deer mirroring in gleaming lakes. Smith-Dorrien / Spray Trail is one of the loveliest roads in Canada and nearly complete gravel. That is what a Unimog is made for. The sound of the tires disappears, and Arminius swallows the bumps like a camel a bucket of water. It’s just fun to drive.

From Banff to Lake Louise we are taking the same road where we discovered the grizzly last time. This time we are also lucky and are seeing an elk buck. The royal deer wears proud antlers and a well-fed stomach. The twelve-pointer doesn’t show timidity; on the contrary he seems to putting on a show. In the beginning he’s completely ignoring the watchers standing round and is eating really calmly. Then he’s looking around rebelliously and seems to ask: “What!? What do you want, eh?” We don’t see the bear this time, only the rangers trying to locate it with their radar. When a grizzly is staying so close to the road it is probably better to watch his movements. In an emergency hiking trails and even roads are closed to ensure both the safety of humans and bear. Few kilometres later we find another elk, a buck again, this time even a fourteen-pointer, but not as big and fat as the other one.

Temperature on Mosquito Creek Campground is quickly dropping from 30 to 15°. But before seeking the warmth of our cabin we have to admire the alpenglow.

Continuously good news: Even at cold start Arminius behaves and does without smoking. We buy a bunch of diesel additive, the engines definitely runs better with it. Ernie, the GCL Sales Manager, poured a bottle of conditioner into one of our tanks last Friday to test it. We went around on the weekend. Our smoke and sound problem didn’t disappear with it, but it already improved.

In the afternoon we return to John and Lyndel a few kilometres outside of Calgary. We met both of them and their family already on Saturday a bit more than one week ago on a pick-nick ground and were invited to a barbecue at mother’s house. Today we are requested to come to Cochrane. We watch the soccer world cup semi final game. Germany is defeated by Spain 0:1, so we better cancel this unpleasant topic. John is professional photographer and we might admire his pictures and photo equipment. In the evening one of the famous Canadian barbecues with steaks and salmon happen, there is more family, and eventually we meet the German neighbours Conny and Frank who immigrated to Canada 23 years ago.

Arminius’ treatment in the GCL detoxification clinic seems to be successful, he doesn’t smoke any more. At least not more than usual. The engine sound significantly reduced, he sounds normal and healthy. A test drive in different rev speed ranges brings the same positive result. The chief mechanic wants to check the cold start tomorrow morning anyway. That’s a good idea, the campground in front of the workshop isn’t the worst one; so we stay one more night.

The South African mechanic in the special workshop for fuel systems removes our injection nozzles and puts them on the test bed. The result isn’t too encouraging. The injection pattern of two nozzles isn’t correct, and the four other don’t keep the injection pressure. We’d better exchange all six what tears a big hole into our vacation fund. Canada seems to have very poor-quality diesel, many truckers have mentioned that to us. Most of them use additives to improve diesel quality, what would be in Europe for an engine of that kind pouring out money in the drain. But here it seems to be an investment worthwhile. Freight forwarders pour diesel conditioners into their tanks and apportion that to transportation costs. There are few private diesel cars in Canada. Even large motorhomes run on gas. We are ordering the spare parts that shall arrive tomorrow and hope that it’ll be done with that.

GCL company was very obliging. Since the car can’t be moved anymore as soon as the nozzles are removed we had not to go into the workshop. The mechanics do all the maintenance on the parking lot in front of the garage what required at least halfway good weather, of course. This allows us to stay in the cabin and not to have to stay at a hotel or to enlist our friends’ help.

We are invited for dinner at our friends’ house. There is big joy to meet Lynn and Claude again much earlier than expected, and it becomes a long evening. But who knows the plans of Big Manitou?

No, we aren’t bored. After all our photos have to be downloaded, chosen, deleted, edited, named, downsized, renamed, uploaded. Blog postings want to be written, translated, and put online. In the afternoon we are watching a soccer game of an amateur team in the neighbourhood. Despite both parties had to gather all their strength to compile a complete team, and men and women between eight and fifty are playing together, the match isn’t worse than most German village leagues. Soccer is becoming very fashionable in Canada.

This morning we have to get up early. We’ve parked directly in front of a sports bar that will show the international soccer match. At eight o’clock we enter the Irish pub to watch the world cup match Germany vs. Argentina. During a rich breakfast we watch together with many other Germany fans in a packed inn how Argentina gets dismantled 4:0 in the quarter final. I am glad that Maradona will not run nakedly along the beach as announced. Who wants to see that? The small enclave Argentina fans will get over the defeat. Most of Germany’s fans don’t or nearly don’t speak German. Perhaps they have German roots, maybe they are simply fans.

We are going back to the industrial area where the Bosch agency is situated since we can stay there over night. In the evening George visits us. He came as Rumanian refugee 30 years ago to Canada, lives in his Dodge van converted to a camper and is a truck driver. George has many stories and jokes at the ready. His car is packed with many things he generously distributes like vegetables, cheese, and a Rocky Mountain tour guide book. We drink schnapps and beer together. George’s got some interesting opinions and insights as well. He admits that fuel is more expensive in Germany. But in Canada distances were huge, it was necessary to go many kilometres to get somewhere, you used more petrol or diesel, and in the end you altogether paid more for fuel. Not completely illogical, isn’t it?

An early call this morning at Freightliner Calgary gives us hope: We might come; they are willing to take care for our problem. Mercedes Benz trucks run in North America under the brand name Freightliner and are our contact partners. Two mechanics and one serviceman are poking their noses in our engine compartment, like the expedition mobile, and are making educated guesses. Unfortunately Freightliners just have diagnostic plugs with computers to tell them what’s broken and which part to change; there is not too much knowledge about simple mechanic things. But all of them are very helpful; they find another contact for us and the address as well.

Arriving there we happily realize that it is a Bosch agency. Our injection pump is from Bosch and the possible problem source. It becomes better and better: The boss of the agency gets his special mechanics. He already repaired military Unimog in South Africa and knows the ropes. We are analyzing, discussing and decide: We will start on Monday morning to keep us mobile over the weekend.

Today’s Canada Day, holiday for the whole country. There’s not too much to do except waiting and devote ourselves to domestic duties.

Weather isn’t too much inviting this morning: 6° C with rain, snow and graupel showers. We go anyway to Emerald Lake in Yoho National Park that looks like its name says: emerald. Wir fahren trotzdem an den Emerald Lake im Yoho Nationalpark, der so aussieht wie er heißt: Smaragd. A coach full of Japanese drives us cackling and flashing down the road to another outlook where it is more quiet and Emerald River, that is nevertheless grey, washed away the bottom of some rocks. The mountain river squeezes through a cleft and squirts out on the other side as waterfall. This spot is called Natural Bridge. The creek whisks through the woods, but there are coves everywhere where water flows slower and the deposited mud makes cute beaches.

Back to Lake Louise, Banff NP, we meet a snow plough. That gives us something to think about. We start our hike to Plane of Six Glaciers despite snow. Weather forecast promises improvement. It’ll be right: In glorious sunshine we walk along kitsch-coloured Lake Louise where one more of the famous railway hotels is situated. Unfortunately not every effort was made to give The Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise Hotel architectonical splendour back then. It looks boring, nothing sort of prison-like ugly. The over 5 km long ascent up to Six Glaciers Tea House is much more beautiful though and so warm that we start to remove clothes. Most hikers stop off for coffee and cake, but the ambitious start to put on clothes again to resist the now chilly wind. They put up with further one and a half kilometres climb to get to the outlook. To not suffer from vertigo might be quite helpful here, but Joerg is very brave and ignores the slope (on both sides of the trail!). The effort is worth it. The view to the surrounding glaciers is marvellous, much better than from the tea house. Meanwhile we put all clothes we have. The wind gliding over the surface of the ice collects coldness and hands it over to ears, noses, and hands. I’m not capable of saying if they are really six glaciers, because there is not too much left of them. Not just due to summerly thaw. Glacial retreat in the last decades is alarming. Comparative images from 100 years ago and today make incredibly clear how few frozen fresh water is left. What glaciers left behind isn’t less impressive. Huge scree slopes with very fine gravel, larger rocks are found mostly at the foot of the mountain at the end of the former glacier tongue.

Back to the parking lot Arminius doesn’t want as he should. He works, but he smokes. We should break him of that, smoking could harm, as we know. Since we didn’t plan to smoke national parks’ campgrounds we decide to leave Lake Louise. Namely in southern direction, back to Calgary, where we want to overnight for the moment.

Our first half-day hike this morning starts in 2000 m elevation at Moraine Lake that looks so much artificial and screamingly turquoise as if somebody poured a paint pot in it. The pines and the ten snow-covered mountains over 3000 metres around make the postcard picture perfect. We are following the trail to Consolations Lakes. This area is notorious for grizzly mums to raise their grizzly babies here. There are alarmingly many and huge strawberry plants, especially besides the path. Since bears like berries I am happy that they are still blooming, and there are no fruits yet. A lot of Least Chipmunks already learned that tourists’ backpacks might contain interesting things like food. But they are little animals and not dangerous. I prefer them. A few sweet Hoary Marmots allow us to take pictures of them as long as we keep safe distance. The short-legged ground squirrels weigh up to 11 kg and have ice-grey fur at shoulders and back, a red-coloured tail, and a white patch on the muzzle. In areas frequently visited by people, hoary marmots aren’t timid. They might stand still for a picture, or they just go about their business.

We decide to visit another national park in this chain of parks. Few kilometres behind Lake Louise sign posts are welcoming us to Yoho National Park and to British Columbia. Yoho means in the language of the Cree “reverence and amazement”. With British Columbia we put our foot in all ten provinces of Canada. Like everywhere even on Trans Canada Highway it is conspicuous that truck traffic is limited. On one hand, Canada is the world’s second largest country but with only 33 million inhabitants. What do you want to uselessly carry around? On the other hand, a lot of cargo is carried on rails. All day long you see hooting freight trains to chase away game animals. On each wagon stand two small and one big overseas container above them as long as it’s not a bulk cargo or tanker wagon. In Yoho right beside the TCH the railway winds through the spiral tunnels. The initial railway line in the very narrow valley became apparent soon as to steep since many wagons were derailed. Already in 1909 at Kicking Horse Pass two spiral tunnels were blasted into the mountain to reduce the gradient from 4.5 to 2.2 %. Because Canadian goods trains are most of the time extremely long and pull much more than 100 wagons, you can see the locomotives, mostly three or four, already leaving the tunnel while the last wagons didn’t even enter it.

In front of the village Field in Yoho Park we are riding two circles around Monarch Campground like pros, choose a pitch, register, and reserve it before we continue to Takakkaw Falls. The 254 m high waterfalls belong to Canada’s highest ones. Particularly interesting is that the falls are fed exclusively from the littler higher situated Daly Glacier. Accordingly Takakkaw Falls, what means “magnificent” in Cree language, change during the year. With beginning thaw in early summer the biggest amount of water race down the slope. In late autumn the falls become sparse. The remaining water eventually freezes in winter until the glacier collects new masses of snow for next year. Takakkaw Falls flow into Yoho River. The big amount of glacial mud it carries gives the river its milky-opaque light grey colour like liquid concrete. Later on, when the rock meal set, the dissolved minerals might dye a lake blue-green. The park management compiled two pretty paths: one to an overlook to the whole falls and another to the foot off Takakkaw Falls where you can get splendidly soaked.

In Banff we first go to a spot this morning where we can overview the Bow River Lower Falls and The Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel. The palace-like building belongs to a chain of former railway hotels for luxury voyagers of the late 19^th until the 20^th century. There is expensive luxury still today, but no more vial rails. Some kilometres further we find some Hoodoos, the washed-out rock pillars, but the view down to romantic Bow Valley is more impressive. Eventually we go to Sundance Canyon, where First Nations held their sacred Sundance Ceremony. The half-day hike first follows as a paved trail along Bow River, but later on it is a nice walk through a narrow canyon and a forest.

When heading north by car, we immediately realize him on a grass hill between woods. There he is: big, brown, well-fed. Or first grizzly bear in the wild. Fortunately he doesn’t realize us since he is busy with catching food. Today’s menu is meat. He seems to hunt a ground squirrel or marmot. The poor small animal seems to possess a den in the ground with several exits since Mister Bear is jumping nimbly forth and back between the holes. It is astonishing how fast this hulk with the huge backside is able to move. We do not want to dispute his dinner, so we take a couple of pictures and leave him alone.

In the end of the day we go for a short walk to Johnston Canyon. A creek cut deep into the stone, creates some cute waterfalls and a small tunnel you can walk through. The river water is so cold and the canyon so narrow that cold can’t escape and it is chilly there even on hot summer days.

After 62 nights of our world trip there is one more premiere: For the first rime we sleep on a campground. There is no other option in the big national parks. We go to the forest parking lot, spin two times, and look vainly for a reception, for somebody to tell us where we can park, and who wants to get our 21.50 Dollars for parking and toilet, but without shower. Finally we ask two Germans for the system. It is self-registration. Fill a form and depose it together with the money in an envelope in a kind of big metal piggy bank. Our neighbours are happy to have us here. They need fire, axe, an adapter and whatsoever.

We prefer to spend also this sunny Sunday at the cosy lake than on weekend-overcrowded hiking paths. We delay the continuation of our journey to tomorrow and call with new observations and shrewd insights.

We returned to the beautiful lake site. We decided to allow our ill-treated bones an off day. The pick-nick area is excursion goal of numerous families on a marvellous Saturday. We are conducting endless guided tours around and through our expedition mobile. Again and again we have to sweep and wipe the floor to remove the rest wood carried in. A young man has to be photographed behind the steering wheel in the driver’s cabin. Probably he will tell later on at home how adventurous it was to drive that beast.

In the afternoon a big family meeting invites us to pick-nick after the vehicle tour. They decide to organise a barbecue and take us along. There is potato salad, hotdogs, and soccer world cup Korea vs. Uruguay on TV. Isn’t that something?

For today we planned a hike to Aylmer Lookout. Initially we follow Lake Minnewanka shoreline. The name means “Spirit Lake”. The entire route shall be 24 km long and include an elevation gain of 560 m. Unfortunately it is not enough to double this number to find out the covered altitude difference. The first eight kilometres are a constant up and down; there is not even one even metre. After that it is just a steep mountain. When the mountain path leaves the lake a sign warns us from grizzly bears and pleads for highest attention. Today, we’ll not see one. Instead we are witnessing an avalanche. A not ending thunder sounds. Fortunately we are at the only place with good view to the mountains on the other side of the valley. From the top a snow slab slopes into the depth, sweeping away melting water and rock, and lands with a crash hundreds of metres deeper. We understand now very well why parts of Banff National Park are still closed. Arriving at the peak we know that all the stresses and strains were worth it. The view to the lake and the surrounding mountains is magnificent. An ice-cold wind blows around our noses. There is not too much wildlife today besides the charming golden-mantled ground squirrels that skilfully dig up mushrooms from the ground. We are somehow motivated during the four kilometres downhill. The ongoing up and down along the lake becomes long, longer, too long. But there’s no taxi waiting for us, we have to return on foot. Arminius is awaiting us eagerly.

First we get to Banff information centre this morning. The village itself is proper, pretty, and touristy. And expensive. Even the tourist information is commercial. The info material included to the entrance fee is poor compared to the other parks. If you want to know more, you have to ask well-directed or research or – that’s the goal – buy one of the offered hiking guide books. It is still June and not yet high season, so we can ask the ranger many questions.

She sends us first to Johnston Lake that we will hike round. The mountain lakes get their beautiful turquoise and emerald dye from glacier mud that were deposited thousands of years ago. There is mixed woodland around the lake, and above conifer wood up to the timberline. The peaks are snow covered even on the southern slopes. The panorama touches everybody.

Along Minnewanka Road we go to Two Jack Lake and Lake Minnewanka. In the area between the two lakes Rocky Mountain Sheep are said to stay. We were not disappointed: Directly beside the road royal rams, ewes and lambs are leaking minerals. We were told not to leave the car not to make them get used to humans.

In the south just off the park we find a night site at a lake. It is one of these places you don’t want to leave any more. Blue-green water, light green trees, grey mountains, and white snow. On the other side of the lake there is the railway line where every now and then a freight train passes. We don’t want to trust our eyes. A four-legged animal plods along the rails. A glance through the binocular offers the whole truth: It’s really an adult wolf with brown fur that carries out its patrol. Trains transport and lose often grain that attracts small and wild animals; game handed to the wolf on a plate. Only minutes later a beaver swims over the whole lake in our direction before it disappears in the thicket. We are in paradise.

Claude is our tour leader today – the best one in western Canada! A 600 km long trip through southern Alberta is showing us nearly all landscapes of the province: Huge areas of arable land and pastureland, where there are cattle and real cowboys with horses. Later we see the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, where we go along between green hills. In the end of the day we will cross the highest road pass in Canada.

For the moment we are visiting Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. The prairie Indians, mainly the Blackfoot, developed 6000 years ago a special technique to bag the bison that were necessary for their survival. A couple of tribes had to work together to hunt the fat herds in autumn. With buffalo and wolf hides camouflaged women and men drove the animals into a narrowing funnel that they had prepared in advance for weeks. They used that bad vision but good sense of smell of the bison. Eventually they led them to panic. The animals started to run and many of them fell off a cliff that they registered too late. Most buffalos died after falling, the injured ones were beat or stabbed to death. The prey was completely used: The innards were ate, the meat cut into strips, dried and then partially grinded and mixed with berry fruits to produce the nutritious pemmikan, precious stocks for the long winter. Melted fat and bone marrow served as well as nutrition and remedy. From bones they produced tools, furs, hides and tendons were used for clothes and teepees (tents). In good years, when more animals were killed than the First Nations were able to use they just took the most wanted parts. The remaining corpses piled up during thousands of years. Excavations at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump resulted in the insight that the cliff was 22 m high in the beginning, but the bone rests shortened it to 12 m. The unappetizing name comes from an old legend that says that a young brave wanted to watch the spectacle at the foot of the cliffs under a ledge. During the unusual successful hunt the carcasses piled more and more until they crushed him to death at the rock face. His relatives found him later with his head smashed in. There were many more buffalo jumps, but this tradition disappeared with the European settlers’ arrival. Rifles and horses imported by the Whites made hunting easier and shifted it from community to individual. In the following years hundreds of thousands of bison were killed, mainly by the Whites and the species eventually exterminated. Reasons were the deliberate deprivation of nourishment as basis for the Indians’ life, a kind of perverse shooting as well as the use of the phosphor contained in the buffalos’ bones to building bombs in the First and Second World War. A later discovered small group of surviving bison were used for breeding. Today some hundreds of buffalo herds live in governmental or private possession.

In the early morning of April 29th, 1903, a 1 km wide, 425 m long and 150 m deep piece of rock slid off Turtle Mountain and buried part of the coal mining town of Frank. At least 70 people were killed while sleeping that night. The coal mining night shift found its way out later. 82 million tons of stone did not only trap the village but filled the whole valley with lumps of rock. Still today the stone desert nearly without vegetation reminds of Canada’s deadliest rockslide ever. As reasons the mountain’s unstable geological structure, underground coal mining, water action and some unusually warm days followed by a frost night are considered.

Alberta founded along the Rocky Mountains a couple of parks following each other from north to south. Coming from the south we go to Kananaskis Provincial Park, also named K-country. The lovely green foothills disappear, the mountains get steeper and stonier, and the road rises continuously. We think to be in the Alps with all the grey snow-covered mountains and conifer forests. Highwood Pass at 2206 m elevation only opens on June 15^th, we are lucky. Still now there is snow on the side of the road and during photo session and goose flesh appears. Searching for wild life we cruise through the whole park. We find a lot of red and mule deer, but there are no bigger animals today.

Arminius hardly climbed the steep hill out of the valley, the prairie has us back. Imperceptible we arrived at 1000 metres elevation. We are licking an ice cream in the sunshine. Then we go into Calgary to a quiet green residential district, where Claude, Lynn and their family are already expecting us. Claude is Natalie’s uncle whom we visited in Prince Edward Island. We’ve found new friends!

Calling the highway hotline this morning makes clear: Trans Canada Highway to Alberta is still closed due to flooding. What irony: The area is Canada’s aridest one with in the average 270 days without precipitation per year. We come to know that the damages at TCH have to be repaired before being passable again. Who knows how long that’ll take? Furthermore the bridge on the service road to Cypress Hills Park is damaged, so there is no access. We have to take a detour on worse roads. What does not detract the prairies from getting more barren. The nearly elevation-free plane extends till the horizon. There are not many ploughed fields, mostly simple grass grows. We discover few yellow canola patches, wind-protection rows and ponds. The road seems to be made with a ruler and leads to infinity.

What is the superlative of barren? Barreny, barrenst or most barren? I guess eastern Alberta is the right place to find out. In any case it is “most prairie” here. On the only marginally hilly plane farming is missing completely. Meadows stretch as far as you can see. Here aren’t even groves or bushes. Simply nothing. You can fix your steering wheel in straight on position.

Unexpectedly we drive down a steep gradient. A glacial valley opens that casts a spell on us. The river washed out the limestone in terraces. The horizontal planes are grown over with a short carpet of grass, on the vertical steps vegetation can’t stay and the yellow-brown stone is visible. The river meanders through the scenery. The Badlands called area is well-known for its dinosaur bones’ finds, but you can’t visit the places where they were found. Instead, there are a couple of very touristy plastic and concrete dinosaurs. We prefer to visit the Hoodoos, washed out limestone pillars with a bigger hat that protects them from further erosion. They look a bit like mushrooms. The columns stand on darker stone that remains from an ocean 74 million years ago.

We stay even behind the city of Drumheller for a couple of kilometres in the valley and find a beautiful place to overnight where we can marvel the sunset while having a beer.

Highway hotline confirms this morning that TCH isn’t open yet. Together with the French we develop an alternative route, since we want to barbecue tonight together. With the prairies fauna changes as well. Prairie dogs don’t seem to be endangered; they zoom over the road forth and back, not always successfully. They are so many; I ask myself if they aren’t a nuisance like mice in Europe? The endless meadows are ideal terrain for coyotes. One of them crosses our way, two pack members flee into the high grass.

Regina, Saskatchewan’s capital with 170,000 inhabitants isn’t too exciting. We prefer to continue our way to the agreed meeting point with Francoise and Dominique. On the parking lot in the pretty Qu’Appelle Valley a royal deer watches us. Many of the designated pick-nick areas are equipped with grills. We just have to collect some wood to light our common barbecue.

Torrential rain for hours is inconceivable in Middle Europe. It’s tipping it down, but we don’t want to be kept from hiking by the rain. Armed with rain jacket, rain cape, water-resistant pants and rubber boots we are clumping into Spirit Sands. In the beginning sand dunes are grown over with dense vegetation. Double as much rain as in an average desert allows birches and oaks, firs and spruces, aspens and poison ivy to grow. Less pleasant for the trees are witch brooms called blackish branch swellings, caused by a parasitic plant belonging to the mistletoes. They manipulate hormonal balance of their hosts, and tap nutrient transport that leads to weakening and sometimes death of the tree. Attempts to chemically exterminate the parasite were extraordinarily successful. Unfortunately the host died each time as well.

Slowly vegetation gets thinner and grasses take over. Eventually we find the tiny cactuses. We are lucky they bloom in the middle of June. Finally plants disappear completely and there is just sand. We find traces of deer and a big cat, perhaps a cougar. For kilometres we follow the trail through the peculiar wet sand desert.

I don’t envy the man at Saskatchewan information centre. He tries to make the prairies tempting to the visitors. But he supports us with precious information about interesting spots. He also tells us that Trans Canada Highway at the provincial border to Alberta is closed due to flooding. Rain is in Saskatchewan as well. Here we meet Francoise and Dominique, two French travellers with a motorhome on a world trip. They plan to visit all the Americas, ship from Buenos Aires to North Africa, and head back to France then. We decide to spend the night together to exchange experiences.

Lake Winnipeg is known for its beaches and the relatively warm water in summer. The extended sand beach in Grand Beach Provincial Park is really pretty with its sand dunes; the water is shallow and lukewarm. Wind raises and it starts to rain, but it stays mild. The subtropical feeling is supported by gently rolling pelicans. Canada goose families are waddling around, always watched by mum and dad. Seagulls are passing by and piping plovers are dashing along the shoreline. Birds’ paradise.

We get strong wind, and later on a violent storm develops. Deep darkness surrounds us in the afternoon. We are passing numberless thundery fronts. Raindrops as big as saucers are splashing against the windscreen and Manitoba’s farmers have to endure again a couple of centimetres of precipitation. We continue to Spruce Woods Provincial Park. Manitoba’s prairies are said to be extremely boring. It’s not so bad, at least when you are travelling for the first time. Big fields are interrupted by tree rows, small forests, farmsteads, and villages. But the highway leads astonishingly long straight ahead. In front of Spruce Woods the landscape turns hillier, greener; grass, hardwood and conifers take turns. A part of the park is called Spirit Sands, a desert-like area with shifting dunes and cactuses. It is a very arid region, but not today. Whole Manitoba is sinking in thunderstorms and we get drummed to sleep by raindrops.

Cleaning, cutting hair, rearranging: The weather is marvellous, and it is time to get rid of the wool pullovers and winter boots in our wardrobe and put shorts and sandals in. We stay on a gravelled piece of field. Some farmers plan to build a barn together. They complain about the extended rain this year, the canola harvest will just fall through. Since weeks it rains heavily again and again, some fields just look like lakes. The farmers allow us to stay on the lot, but at night we escape into our cabin. Thousands of aggressive bugs choose us for dinner.

Showering in a proper bathroom, laundry, and oil change are just three of the extremely thrilling activities we had planned for today. I don’t want to bore you…

Northern Ontario is the home country for numerous tribes of the First Nations like Sioux and Cree, to just mention two of the most known ones. The highway warps through a country full of forested hills, basalt rocks, and small rivers. There are so many pretty log cabins to spend your fishing or hunting holiday. If you like just hop on water plane that’ll fly you to the best fishing grounds. You probably haven’t to go far for hunting. Big light brown deer jump cheerfully forth and back on the road. Later on we watch a black bear guzzling at the edge of the woods.

At lunch time a young couple speaks to us in German. They tell us they are Mennonites, a Christian denomination practising adult christening. Originally they were from Northern Germany and The Netherlands, but some hundreds of years ago they weren’t tolerated in Middle Europe. They moved on eastwards until Russia, where the tsar welcomed them. Eventually they emigrated to USA and Canada, where the first of them settled in 1776. Most of them left Russia with foundation of the Soviet Union because again reprisals were taken against them. Many tried to go back to their original home country since they have kept language and tradition during all the time. There they were considered to be “Russians”, again deprecated, and the majority of them followed their fellow-believers into the New World. The traditionalists among them still today refuse modern technologies. They harness the plough with horses and go to church by carriage. But you can’t recognize the modern Mennonite. They appear as any other person would do. They wear shorts and t-shirt, and they drive cars. The young couple invites us to their parents in Winnipeg, because this will be our next destination.

In 1693 the ultra-conservative Amish People split away off the Mennonites. Nearly completely driven out of Europe, they settled mostly in Ohio and Pennsylvania, few of them in Ontario. There is a third denomination of the so-called Anabaptists. The Hutterites, Germans being residents mainly in Moravia, were also persecuted. They moved to Transylvania, later on to Ukraine, USA and since 1918 to Canada. They live in initial Christian communities of property. A couple of families run a community together. Still many of them wear their traditional clothes in muted colours and discreet patterns as well as suspenders and goatee beards. Most of these denomination members are pacifists and refuse military service; that was tolerated by Canadian government.

In the evening we visit in Winnipeg the father of the couple we met at lunch. We learn a lot more about the Mennonites. Our host has been a film producer in former times. Among others he had shot a well-awarded movie about the history of the Mennonites. He hands us a copy, so that we can watch the DVD later on our laptop.

The Trans Canada Highway guides us westwards. Until the 1960s there was no continuously paved east-west-connection in Canada. Cars travelling among the provinces partially went through the USA. Just in 1965 the last piece of asphalt was finished to connect the already existing roads. Since these days the TCH goes from St. Johns in Newfoundland to Victoria on Vancouver Island. In some areas you find more than one parallel road named TCH. The shortest route through the ten Canadian provinces is nearly 7,400 km long and includes three ferry sections.

83 km in front of Thunder Bay a part of the TCH is named Terry Fox Courage Highway. Terry Fox was a remarkable young man. He was only 22 years old when he died. Terry was wearing prostheses since he lost a leg at the age of 18 due to cancer. In April 1980 he started in St. Johns the Marathon of Hope on the TCH. He planned daily stages of 42 km until Vancouver Island. He did not only want to demonstrate courage to face life but to raise funds for cancer research. In the beginning his run remained unnoticed. During time, media took attention of him and people celebrated him on the roads. He collected donations of all together 24 million Dollars. After 5,373 km in 143 days he had to give up. Not too much later he passed away. A movie was made about his life and some memorials were erected to his honour, on of them in Thunder Bay. Nowadays in most schools and in many towns Terry-Fox-Runs are held yearly for the benefit of the cancer fund.

A Canadian law prohibits carrying along opened containers with alcoholic liquids or consumption of alcohol in public areas, as pedestrian as well as in a car’s passenger space. As European you might think this law is useless since few people were intending to sit behind the steering wheel with an open beer can in your hand. After our experience with the Harley drivers we watch another strange behaviour. A car arrives at a designated pick-nick area where we sat down for the night. The couple gets out of the car, takes two beer tins from the trunk, has a quick one in just a few seconds, and dispose of the cans with a well-directed throw into the forest – despite the existing garbage containers. Granted, the traffic density isn’t as high as it is in Europe and a certain amount of alcohol when driving is tolerated as well. Anyway, the law might make more sense than perceptible at a first glance.

There is not too much to see in Sault St. Marie, so we continue our way to the west. The landscape gets hillier; soon mountains grown over with forests follow. The highway bends around Lake Superior shoreline. An extended family of the rare Canada Goose waddles beside the road. The grey-brown water birds with the black neck and head are sometimes called Wawas following the Ojibwe language.

On the parking lot at Lake Superior Provincial Park we meet two Harley Davidson drivers. They are having a break to slurp a beer and puff on a cigarette. We also get a beer. And they apologize for the beer not to be very cold. The two of them just ride 3,000 km for a wedding party and to visit the son of one of them. Who in Germany would get the idea to just ride to South Greece for a party? I try to figure out what is in their three cases. I guess in one of them is the suit for the wedding, the tooth brush and travel necessaries. They don’t need tent and whatever since they sleep in Motels. The other two cases are probably full with beer. You have to set priorities.

A short but rocky trail leads us to the Indian wall paintings at Agawa Rock at a precipice at the lake shore. You have to proceed hand over hand along a metal chain not to slip from the smooth slope at the foot of the wall. Thick ropes hang into the water; with their help you could rescue yourself to the shore if fallen into the water. The spot is dangerous when unexpectedly high waves wash the hiker off the stones. There have been a couple of accidents in the past years. Today it is pretty quiet. The 150 to 400 years old animal and boat paintings of the Ojibwe aren’t excessively impressive, but the bay with the water clear as glass is a beautiful site. The path through the narrow high canyon is fun, but you should take care of the slippery stones.

We frighten away a flock of vultures besides the road that help themselves freely to a perished moose. In the end of the day we steer for a truck stop at the edge of the town of Wawa like the goose. Luckily Saturdays there are not too many truckers who find it necessary to run their engine the whole night since it is essential to keep the air-condition going with 15° C outside. The few ones parking here still make enough noise. You find Canada – unfortunately – together with the United States at the top of the world’s energy consumers. Or, better to say, the energy wasters. But the site seems to be an inside tip among motorhome drivers. A camper, big as a coach, is already here, with a car in tow where again two bicycles are fixed. The couple travels with at least five awnings with which they could shade half of Wawa. Short after a similar huge RV arrives with three passengers in it. That could be a bit cramped, so they tow a trailer as big as our whole cabin is. Completely unbegrudging I watch their four hydraulic forces that automatically lift the vehicle into a levelled position. As already mentioned, a coach is pretty low in space for the three of them. That’s why now the side walls slide out to make more room. But they are kind people and invite us to Alberta. Later on another house on wheels arrives.

Shopping days are strenuous days. Not because of the few things we have to get, but due to the many conversations we conduct. In the morning in front of Canadian Tire the first people approach us. Back from shopping, the next conversations are waiting for us. After shopping in the supermarket there are more curious people. Women, men, older and younger people. More and more listeners approach, it is like the “Never-ending Story”. I am completely tired without having even driven one kilometre. We should print brochures and distribute them.