Happily Camping Damply

Near the end of the summer, Glory lamented that she had not slept in our trailer or gone camping in any way since 2019. Late-season camping in Jasper accompanied by a dip in Miette Hot Springs has become an intermittent tradition since 2017 (although the 2018 trip was waylaid somewhat by the demise of our previous trailer) but with the pools closed due to Covid, I hadn't given it much thought.

Her melancholy reflection really gave me pause, though, and knowing that a cure was less than $50 plus gas money, I booked us a site at Wabasso for yesterday night.

We loaded the camp stove, field kitchen, camp chairs, and wet weather gear into the Flex Saturday morning, hitched up Bride of Frankentrailer without too much difficulty and were on the Yellowhead by 11:00. 

We chatted and listened to music on the 4 hour trip through Jasper, laughing far too much at Lonely Island, and were ecstatic when the distant peaks were visible through the front windshield. WE even crested a major milestone for the Flex on our way out of Edson! Pausing at the park gates, I was glad to have purchased an annual pass when we visited Elk Island at the end of March.

I managed to get the Bride reversed into site D31 without any pushing at all (which is rare!). And the two of us had it set up with sleeping bags deployed in under an hour. 

Even with having visited Jasper many times, there is still much to see, but Glory's greatest wish was simply to stroll down main street, which we did. Fetching hot drinks and a treat from Bear's Paw Bakery, we made out way down past the various restaurants and souvenir shops selling much of the same stuff, but with a few standouts in each one. Astonishingly, we made no purchases, other than some tinned bubble tea for the next day's breakfast.

Somehow we resisted the urge to grab a pizza from North Face, and resolutely made our way back to camp to heat up the tins of clam chowder we had brought. As we made our way back to Wabasso on 93A, I asked Glory if we could stop off at Mt Edith Cavell, which she has no memory of since we visited it when she was very young.

She eagerly agreed, and we made our way up the narrow and twisting road, which hadn't even been paved the last time we were there. It took us over 20 minutes to cover the 12 km to Edith Cavell Meadows, but as anyone who has been there can tell you, it was worth the trip.

The parking lot is also much improved and outhouses upgraded, and they have added a new bit of signage as well.

It saddened me a little to see no note of her martyrdom (executed for helping allied soldiers sneak out of occupied Belgium, which was considered "conveying troops to the enemy") or her commitment to aiding all wounded, friendly or enemy. But it was touching to see the roses left there in her memory, as well as a poppy pin.

But the mountain itself is the important thing; it and the surrounding peaks, and the fresh, moist air, and experiencing it all with my daughter during her first month of nursing school. The light drizzle did nothing to dampen either of our spirits.

We returned to our campsite, heated our soup and wolfed it down, trying to protect our treats and box of kitchenry from the intermittent showers. Aided by half a tub of Coghlan's Fire Paste (marvelous stuff!), we managed to light a fire and keep it going until just before ten, then broke with rusticity and projected a movie inside the trailer using my phone. We also ran the space heater we'd brought until lights out while it dropped to nearly zero outside.

It rained overnight but the skies were blue and clear the next morning while we packed up camp, marvelling again at the immensity and beauty of the peaks surrounding us. We drank our bubble tea and ate carrot muffins as we made our way back to the park gates at the icefield parkway, but pulled over with some other motorists to gape at a majestic bull elk just a few metres off of the roadway.

I handed my camera to Glory to get some pictures just as he raised his head and bugled loudly (as we are well into the fall rut). Such an eerie and otherworldly sound! Part whistle, part horn, the elk made his intentions and availability known for miles around, I am certain.

The ride back was quieter, neither of us having slept altogether well in the cold. but no less enjoyable for all that. And I know we are coming back in three weeks' time with my sister and her husband to send Mum's remains on the final step of their journey. The finality of the occasion tears at me even now, but any chance to experience this wondrous place with family again is always welcome.