The Evolution of Campsgiving

Next year will be the tenth anniversary of our family (in whole or in part) travelling to Jasper in September or October for a visit to Miette Hot Springs. We haven't gone every year, and even when we've gone, we haven't always camped (usually due to trailer mishaps of one kind or another). But I wonder if this might be our last year out there with Bride of Frankentrailer.

After having our shelter destroyed by high winds last year, and the Jasper forecast not only being cold but also wet (at one point including the possibility of up to 20 cm of snow!), we still elected to camp, but chose not to do any cooking.

I was a bit heartbroken by this, as I adore cooking for my familywhen we camp, breakfast in particular. French toast is the breakfast of choice, and I had back bacon ready to go. For supper, we intended to do the same savory s'mores Audrey and I made when in Blue River this summer.

But in addition to the challenges of cooking in cold weather, it is not particularly pleasant to eat outdoor when it is below zero and windy, and we have never allowed food in the trailer dince we camp in bear country so often. So I agreed it was just impractical this go-round and we resolved to eat out instead. This also made packing the trailer itself unnecessary, as mostly kitchen stuff and camp chairs go in there.

Night one was just around freezing, and we only got the trailer fully set-up by about 10:45 pm. The new space heater has a timer setting, so we went to sleep cozy and woke up cool but not frozen.

It turns out The Inn Grill on Geikie street has a breakfast buffet from 7-10 am and we glided in at 9:45 for a big plate of scrambled eggs (two styles), bacon, sausage, french toast and hash browns, in additn to fruit, yogurt and oatmeal. It is tough to imagine a better deal for $22 a plate!

After breakfast we perused a few of the shops and the new indigenous art park next to the visitor's centre., then made our way up to Miette Hot Springs. 

There was next to no snow in Jasper or Wapiti townsite, but the trees along Miette Road were laden with wet, heavy snow, some of the smaller ones bent right over like the fellow on Led Zeppelin IV. The road itself was relatively clear, either from being plowed or just perhaps overrun with traffic. Thankfully we didn't have to wait to enter the pool, as we have in past years.

Wapiti campground, mostly barren since the 2024 wildfires

After an hour's delightful soak, while a light snow deposited flakes on our heads and eyelashes, we headed back to town for dinner at Mad Grizzly Bistro and Bar. A delightful Asian-inspired, fusion-style menu with local ingredients reflected in bison, elk and boar, they also have a very decent cocktail selection and the service wa great.

Spotted on our way to dinner, not on the menu...

Back at Wapiti, there were a handful of campfires, but vey few groups clustered around them as itwas already below freezing. We curled up in the Bride and watched The Blues Brothers on my iPad, but for whatever reason could not get warm - the space heater struggled to heat the space inside, despite the blankets and coats we piled on top of ourselves. Maybe the wind gusts we kept hearing and feeling just siphoned the jeat aay from the canvas? 

After a brief walk to the (blessedly heated) washrooms, we crawled into our sleeping bags, and the space heater helped maintain enough of an equilibrium that we woke up to a trailer that was cool, not freezing.

By this point, however, we had already agreed it would be fun to spend next Campsgiving in one of the red cabins or bungalows next to the hot springs instead. Less driving around, multiple dips in the pool and I can cook our meals again!

And who knows how many trips the Bride has left in her before we upgrade or she gives up the ghost (like the original Frankentrailer did in 2018)?

But at any rate, Thanksgiving is a great time to express gratitude for a family still willing (and available!) for small adventures like sleeping outdoors during the season's first snow in the Rockies!

Campsgiving 2025 - The Hard Wind

Parts of our family have been late-season camping (Sep-Oct) in Jasper since 2017. It is rare that all four of us are able to go on this cool-weather hot spring trip, but rarer still for the trip to occur without incident.

In 2018, Frankentrailer gave up the ghost.

In 2020, Covid scuttled the whole thing.

In 2023, I tried the cold pool at the hot springs and regretted it immediately.

And last year, damage from wildfires ended up closing our chosen campground and Bride of Frankentrailer got a flat on the Henday as we headed towards our alternate site, so we ended up staying in a motel with kitchenette instead.

This year, we were fully aware it would be cold. We knew there was a high likelihood of rain and a possibility of snow (all of which eventually happened) and dressed accordingly.

But we were unprepared for the 40-knot winds on Saturday morning that inside-outed our 10' Coleman shelter and nearly carried Fenya away with it while I was trying to make French toast. Thankfully I had already turned the camp stove off so there was no risk of fire or injury that way. The girls gamely held onto the legs of the bent structure while I struggled to remove the covering as it flapped loudly in the gale-force wind.

It was raining at the time so we were all damp and chilled by the time we got everything stowed, and breakfast was a write-off. But when we got to Jasper townsite there was a parking space directly outside North Face Pizza, and two large pizzas made a great hot breakfast...at 1:30 in the afternoon.

Heading out to the hot springs, the weather turned less windy and more snowy the moment we turned onto Miette Road. The twisty trail (that still has automated traffic control for the single lane area where the road washed out a few years ago) carries you up nearly 400 meters up from the Yellowhead and although the roads themselves were clear, the limbs of trees were bowed under the burden of wet, heavy snow.

Thanksgiving weekend is the last chance to visit Miette each year, so it is usually pretty crowded - last year there was a line-up to get in for the first time. But despite being close to capacity, it is still very relaxing to sit in the naturally hot waters and let cold snow melt upon your head. 

We got to the Inn Grill for dinner around 6 pm, and were seated right next to the fire, which was lovely. Sipping on cocktails while we waited for dinner to arrive, the girls were a bit surprised when I thanked them profusely for their patience.

"We volunteered, and weather is not guaranteed..." they said.

"I know," I agreed, "but you signed on for cold nights and maybe setup or takedown in the rain, not almost getting pulled into the sky by a runaway shelter. To say nothing of how cold is it likely to be tonight. Do you have any idea how many offspring would have turned on their dad like cornered snakes after the night and day you two had?"

They shrugged it off like I figured, but took my toast to their patience and understanding with good humor.

That night we watched Bull Durham on my iPad before bed, and our tiny space heater was put to the test overnight as the temperature dropped to five below freezing. But there was no complaining that night, nor the next day as we packed up camp while the occasional transient snowflake drifted in.

From Kananaskis to Cabbagetown: Adventures with the Firstborn and Family

As milestones go, moving out on your own is kind of a biggie, even more so when the family unit is as tight as ours can be. But at least we got to have one last camping trip as a family!

After the apartment was procured and shipping container packed and sent to Toronto, we were all set to go camping in Kananaskis for the first time. Bobby and Fenya took the Toyota so they could get some time with his family at their time-share in Fairmont and joined us in Sheep River Provincial Park the day after we arrived.

And this was a good thing, since we are heavy packers and even the Flex would have strained to carry all five of us, plus Canéla, plus all our gear! I swear, if I ever buy a vehicle without roof racks again, please feel free to slap me.

Anyhow, our campsite was only about 20 minutes west of Turner Valley (officially now Diamond Valley, since it amalgamated with its neighbour Black Diamond). A fairly rustic affair, with "vault toilets" (aka outhouses) but very well treed and a comfort station not too far away with showers and sinks.

My trailer-backing-in skills won't win me any awards but it has been a few trips now since I have needed to use the nose wheel, so getting the Bride of Frankentrailer into position on the hitch was fairly satisfying. We had gotten take-out from Cluck n Cleaver in Calgary on our way through (great chicken but not a trailer-friendly location!) so there was no need for cooking on night one, and it took less than an hour for Audrey, Glory and I to have everything pretty much where we wanted it.

The next afternoon, Vera brought Oma and Auntie Alice from High River to the campsite for a visit, which meant they also got a chance to say goodbye to Fenya and Bobby when they arrived from B.C. It was a hot afternoon and we were grateful of the sun shade we had set up. They accepted our invitation to stay for dinner and I grilled up some steaks for us all.

Over the next few days we toodled around Turner Valley and Black Diamond, went to Okotoks (to look for a replacement griddle as I had left ours in the garage) and explored our corner of Kananaskis Country (which requires an additional pass now, like national parks do).

I was thrilled to enjoy a couple of pints with Bobby at Hard Knox Brewery in Black Diamond while the ladies shopped. The Frontier Chocolate Hazelnut beer we shared is excellent (and 9.8% abv!), as was the carrot cake sour he had and the Banana Bown ale I enjoyed.

There is a fair amount to see around Sheep River, including "forest cows", some delightful gorges and a waterfall. The area has an extensive trail network that looked amazing but I was frankly too lazy to countenance.

the "Big Rock" at Okotoks

Sheep River Falls

Glory demanded a "mermaid" picture on this rock

Canéla on the trail...of what?

The rare and elusive forest cow

Mostly though, we enjoyed hanging around the campsite together, playing games, enjoying meals, roasting smokies and marshmallows together and getting in some hammock time.

On our very last night, we endured a truly immense thunderstorm complete with hail. Thankfully the shade held back most of the moisture and the Bride was undamaged, as everyone waited inside for me to cook up some Hamburger Helper on the camp stove.

Afterwards we set up the iPad and a Bluetooth speaker inside the trailer and watched The Fellowship of the Rings while the torrent continued. Sure, the quarters are a bit cramped and not having snacks in a trailer impacts the experience, but you know, I have had worse times for sure.

Morning!

Packing up the chairs, shelter and trailer the next day while still damp was no picnic either, but honestly, still far better than a tent on the ground, and we were ready to go by a little after noon, and headed into Turner Valley for a late breakfast at the Chuckwagon Cafe. It was great food but a long wait, so we ended up killing time at the Eau Claire Distillery a few doors away.

After an afternoon breakfast we parted ways again, briefly, as the newlyweds headed to High River to go see the chuckwagon races with Auntie Vera that night, while Glory, Audrey and I took the Bride back to Edmonton for unpacking and drying out.

That was a little over a week ago. 

On Friday, three nights ago, our backyard hosted a farewell party for Fenya and Bobby. 

Saturday night my sister Tara came for a roast beef supper and we said so long for real. The flight to TO (with Bobby's family going along to help with unloading the Pod!) was early the next morning. It was a positive but very emotional night, because we are a pretty tight unit and we recognize the significance of this change.

And look, if you know me, then you know I am not a guy who does well with change. And the truth is, I have been dreading this moment for years now. But I also recognize the neccessity of moving on and the wonderful opportunities awaiting them at the Center of the Universe (TM).

And we are all thrilled that they have a nice place in an exciting city, and that Fenya received a job offer with George Brown College, so that is one less thing to worry about!

There they are, at the edge of Cabbagetown, sleeping on an air mattress and scrubbing down their new place in anticipation of the Pod arriving tomorrow. Then discovering the wind chime and spirits sampler Audrey had covertly procured on our trip and sent along with them in their luggage.

And I am too busy being happy and excited and proud for there to be too much room for melancholy to get a foot in.

And very grateful to have a family that has enjoyed the camping trips we have taken together (including our most excellent son-in-law), and even more appreciative that we had one last opportunity to go to the edge of the mountains together!

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

The day after Fenya and I were at the Starlite Room, she, Glory and I took the Bride of Frankentrailer out to Jasper for one last weekend of camping and a highly anticipated visit to Miette Hot Springs. Audrey had work commitments and a church fundraising dinner she wanted to attend, but I think she was grateful for the opportunity to pass up this excursion.

Which is funny, because just before se moved to Ontario in 1995, the two of us had camped out at Pocahontas in a tent on the exact same weekend. Mind you, it was even colder and the zipper actually froze shut on our tent, so I certainly can't blame her for being apprehensive about a return visit. The girls on the other hand, were excited at the opportunity.

Glory has a spare at the end of the day, so I was able to pick her up mid-afternoon. By the time Fenya arrived from work, we'd gassed up the Flex, loaded all our gear, hooked up the trailer and had it waiting out front. We hit the road at 5:30, grabbing burgers at the McDonald's in Edson for dinner. As it grew dark, we listened to two Lonely Island albums I had downloaded and which we wouldn't have bothered with if Audrey had made the trip.

We arrived at our site a little before 10:00, met by our friends Shari and Dave from Red Deer. I am still hopeless at backing up with the trailer, and Dave said, "Not to mow another man's lawn or anything, but I could do that if you liked..." I leapt at his offer, and within an hour we had the Bride all set up, and a small space heater deployed to take the chill off.

I had picked up a larger, warmer sleeping bag over the summer, as I normally use our existing one like a blanket during warmer weather. Now, I wouldn't call my apprehension at having my arms immobilized claustrophobia per se, but even writing this now, I feel obliged to roll my shoulders and inhale deeply. My sleep that night was troubled and fitful, but I did manage to nod off, and even with the bag zipped all the way up on a couple of occasions.

We all enjoyed a lie-in that morning and decided to forego the oatmeal breakfast we had planned in favour of getting out to the hot springs as soon as possible. Most of the vehicles we had seen the night before had vacated the Wapiti campground that morning which left things very quiet and peaceful. Having arrived in the dark, seeing the mountains that surrounded us in the light of day was very much a joyous discovery, even though the weather was still quite brisk.

It was probably only 8 or 9 degrees C when we entered the hot springs at Miette, but it was sunny and bright. The pools were fairly busy despite the brisk breezes that swept over us periodically, and we marvelled at the number of different languages we could hear around us - French, Chinese, Korean Romanian, Italian and more I'm sure. What a privilege to have such a place in such a setting within a three-hour drive!

Glory remarked at how puzzled she was as a child when she first visited the springs: it's like a pool, but there is no jumping, diving, splashing or even swimming, really. At 17 though, she is grateful for an opportunity to soak and relax, to give her more petite sister the opportunity to hold her in a way most impractical on dry land.

For my part, I reminded Fenya about how I used to swim about with her on my back, which prompted a reenactment that was a little awkward but still endearing.

Boy, that sun was sure bright though...

It was hard to leave the warmth of the pools but after a couple of hours, we did and then made our way to Maligne Canyon. I hadn't been back since we brought Dad's ashes here in 2012, which was right around the same time of year.

It's a beautiful place no matter when you visit it, which is a big part of why it impacted Dad as much as it did. It's a simple downhill hike down to the fourth bridge (but a grueling ordeal on the return leg for someone who dresses out at over an eighth of a ton and should take more stairs), and before long we stood on the structure where we had bid farewell to my father's mortal components.

Seven years on, and while I don't miss him any less, I can at least recall him without pain most of the time. The bridge is significant, not as a resting place but more as the starting point of a journey that I hope never ends, and that one day I can join him on. Leaning across the edge of the bridge I was struck by what an amazing vista we had selected, but which I had failed to document at the time.

The small waterfall caused by a creek entering the Maligne River made it look as though the water was being generated by the roots of a tree tenaciously clinging onto the rocky ledge overhanging it.

We stood there for quite a while, not saying much, reassured by hand squeezes and arms across shoulders, not feeling that Dad was there, precisely, but definitely feeling he had been, and that was enough.

By the time we exited Maligne Canyon, the sun had begun to set, and it began to cool very quickly. We headed back to the campsite where Fenya and I used the propane firepit and our pie irons to try to put together a dinner of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches while Glory worked on her Biology project in the Bride. The first batch had a high carbon component, but the second batch was far more edible.

After supper, we joined Shari and Dave at their campfire where we shared s'mores, stories and a little whiskey. That night I slept far more soundly than I had the night before, even with more time spent zipped up. Whether this was due to some sense of contentment that had eluded me the night before or simply due to being exhausted, I cannot say.

We broke camp the next day without incident, each successive takedown of the Bride getting a bit smoother and more familiar. Shari and Dave graciously provided us with a big breakfast of Mexican eggs, and all too soon we found ourselves back at home.

Remembering Dave's observation about thinking of the trailer as a big wheelbarrow, I tried backing the trailer onto our lawn in preparation for its winter internment on the patio. In the past, we've had to lift and push it all the way from the alleyway, an exhausting and potentially dangerous maneuver that my brilliant daughters have never shied away from. This time though, I was able to get it all the way to the edge of the garage, leaving only a 90-degree turn and about 12 feet of pushing to do.

Some things stay the same while others grow and change, often in unexpected ways - this seems to be the enduring message of this late-season expedition to the mountains. I hope we can do it again next year.

Here Comes the Bride of Frankentrailer

Last September, we said goodbye to Frankentrailer after a catastrophic structural failure while attempting to deploy it during a mountain storm in Jasper. While never reaching the status of beloved, Frankentrailer was still a highly appreciated part of our household, enabling us to camp in significantly more comfort than provided by any tent.

A month later, while lamenting our loss, friends from church confided that they too had a seventies-era tent trailer that they had used on many an adventure, particularly while their boys were in scouts. With their offspring having grown and left home, their 1974 Bonair 850 was languishing in a storage lot, their Subaru not even having a hitch to tow it out. They were unwilling to part ways with both the memories and the heritage of a conveyance that had passed from grandfather to uncle to them.

And now, sold with mutual gratitude, to us.

We towed Bride of Frankentrailer back from Villeneuve in late October, and wheeled it into the garage. Some ne'er do well had seen fit to punch a hole in the thin aluminum roof, but we were able to patch it up with some silicon compound.  The tongue of this trailer also has a wheel on it, which meant I didn't have to hold up half the weight of it while we schlepped it onto the patio for winter storage. Once in place, we tarped it up, and waited for the spring.

Spring was inconvenient and untrusted, as most Edmonton springs are, so we only got around to unwrapping the Bride this past weekend (but summer doesn't officially start until next week, so we are counting it as a win!). I jacked it up pretty much by myself, such is the quality of the mechanism - I needed to raise and lower it a few times until I had a semblance of what I was doing, and Glory came out at one point to marvel at how both sides went up at the same time.

Wayne had opened up the trailer for us on the lot before we agreed to purchase it, and I knew it was in good shape and very clean for something that had sat dormant for around a decade, but once we had everything in place, I was astonished as to just how good its condition was. No lie, there are places in my house that aren't as fastidiously clean as the corners of this trailer. There were pinches of dust here and there (possibly from the gravel roads on the way to our home).

We pulled everything out and opened all the windows to let it air out, and the next day took to cleaning it in earnest: vacuuming the floors, storage areas, cushions and drapes, washing down most of the surfaces with Pine-Sol, and taking some vinegar in a spray bottle to a musty area of the canvas roof where some moisture must have snuck in.

Neither ArrKan RV, Woody's RV, nor Camper's Village had canvas cleaner for sale, but I did find some waterproofing agent at Canadian Tire. While I was out looking for it through, Audrey took it upon herself to pull out the propane stove (since we keep camp in bear country sometimes and that means keeping food out of the trailer), and I jigsawed up a piece of hardboard to cover the hole. Fenya and I also patched up the screen windows where needed.

Today, Fenya and I fixed two tiny holes we found and I applied the waterproofing to all the canvas, taking care not to get any on the vinyl windows, lest they end up looking like the foggy cockpits of so many plastic airplane kits of my youth.

And speaking of my youth, my second-favourite thing about the trailer interior (after its immaculate condition) is the nostalgia of the orange and brown floral print that covers both the cushions and curtains inside the Bride.

 For that matter, the floor is about a half-step off from what I remember in our kitchen in Willow Park...

The original Frankentrailer had originally come with, of all things, carpet on the floor, which Audrey's mother was so disgusted by, she tore it all out and burned it before we came down to pick it up. As a result, the floor never really looked or felt clean, despite the many hours we spent cleaning and disinfecting it. Bride of Frankentrailer has been a delightful step up in this regard.

We also uncovered a few intriguing artifacts from the late-20th-century over the weekend:

A set of McDonalds cups promoting the 1994 Flintstones movie.

A travel mug featuring some vintage NHL logos, including the Quebec Nordiques, Winnipeg Jets, and the best use of negative space in all sports imaging, the Harford Whalers.

And most intriguingly, a stack of branded, brown paper grocery bags.

Man, it is so odd that something so mundane can trigger such a vibrant sense of time and place! I've been fighting the urge to buy more groceries this week just so I could re-pack them in vintage brown paper, then haul them out of the Flex and into the house like I used to with Mom and the old Town & Country station wagon.

Ah, it probably wouldn't be the same without the bagged milk.

Nostalgia notwithstanding, everyone in the household is thrilled at the prospect of camping in the Bride of Frankentrailer!