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.

PG ‘25 - The Ancient Forest

Sorry for the delay in posting - it did not take very much camping time to get to the “what day is this again?” stage.

We have been at a campground called MamaYeh, 15 min south of Prince George, the ‘northern capital’ of British Columbia. Tomorrow we pull up stakes and head three hours west and a smidgen North to Burns Lake to visit our niece, but we wanted a couple days to see what was in this area (and to break up the 11 hour drive time from Edmonton). And even without flush toilets, it is a lovely campsite, with a great host.

One of the things to see is an amazing inland rainforest, at B.C.‘s newest provincial park, Chun T’oh Whudujut. It turns out you don’t have to drive out to Clayuquot on Vancouver Island to witness immense, 1000-year-old cedars.

There is an accessible boardwalk with minimal elevation change, but lured upward with the promise of a waterfall, we instead opted for the larger loop with a lot more climbing than I’d anticipated. 

The footing is sure on a sturdy boardwalk and steps, all built and maintained by volunteers.

It is very dense off the boardwalk, and I can only imagine how easy it would be to get lost in terrain like this, and wondering what sort of fauna is lurking just out of sight in the underbrush.

At one point, Canéla stopped pulling ahead on her leash and drew back with a low growl, which I found unnerving. Another dog would have made her bark, as would any small mammals like a squirrel or mouse. I looked intently ahead, and saw nothing, so I coaxed her forward again, but once more she balked, growling more loudly.

“What is it girl? What’s the matter?” I asked, knowing full well a response of any kind was unlikely. Once more I peered into the low brush surrounding the immense cedar trunks, following a dry creekbed heading downhill to our right. Surely not big enough for a bear or cougar, was it?

Audrey drew up behind us and asked, “hey, is she scared of the knot coming out of that stump? The one that looks kind of like a birds head?”

Sure enough, that’s what it was - and I was so relieved I never even thought to take a picture!

No injuries or wildlife encounters, but we were all pretty tired by the time we got back to the Lander. But the waterfall really is worth the effort.

Jasper 2024 - Rocky Mountain Heartbreak

We had booked a campsite for our recurring late-season trip to Jasper back in early July, looking forward to what we were calling Campsgiving Weekend.

By the end of the month though, wildfire proximity had prompted the evacuation of the entire townsite and many structures in the town and surrounding area were lost, including some in the Wapiti campsite where we were booked. 

In late August, Parks Canada refunded our fees and cancelled our reservation, but with word that Miette Hot Springs might reopen before the end of the season, I booked a campsite at Jasper Gates, just west of Hinton.

Sure enough, Miette announced they would be open until Thanksgiving weekend, so we loaded up Bride of Frankentrailer and hit the road Friday, but the trailer got a flat on the Henday before we even reached St. Albert. 

We called Tuber Towing because I wasn't about to change a flat on that thing beside Edmonton's fastest roadway, but they also told us the other tire wasn't looking great. So we ended up leaving it at Trail Tire so they could replace both of them - the tech didn't think the other would even get us out of the city... They hoped to get us underway late the next morning, but once we got home I transferred our reservation from the campsite to a motel room on the same property (Jasper Gates was so nice about it too!) so we could get to the mountains on Friday after all.

After cooking French toast in out kitchenette and visiting the hot springs (perhaps our favourite spot in the Rockies), we bought a park pass there and drove into the townsite. We wanted to see for ourselves just what was left of a place all three of us knew from our childhoods.

It is about a half-hour from Miette Road to Jasper, following the Athabasca river for the most part. Along the Yellowhead, the visible destruction was limited to the burnt trees you could see on the mountain slopes across the water. As you got closer to town, however, there were burnt trees on both sides of the river, some of them very close to the highway. (All the photos are Glory's.)

The eastern entry way to the town was closed so we drove on to the western one on Hazel Avenue that comes off of 93A. Last year we had seen an immense grizzly bear lounging in the shade of the trees by the intersection - almost all those trees were now gone, a few scorched trunks all that remained. 

Heading up to Connaught Drive, the main drag that parallels the train tracks, I audibly gasped - almost everything west of Hazel Avenue was gone, starting with the gas stations that had been on the corner, and all the homes that had been beyond it. My eyes dampened and I questioned my presence there.

On Connaught itself, the damage is less visible save for a gaping hole where a building housing some businesses or another used to exist. Presumably, firefighters knocked it down to save the neighbouring structures.

Looking across the tracks, the proximity of the fire from the other side is visible as well, and a ridgeline of burnt timber is particularly haunting.

We turned up Pyramid Lake Road, noting Bears Paw Bakery, a staple of prior visits, is closed. Patricia Street is currently one-way, so we went up to Geike Street and hung a left, noting that everything east of us looked largely intact.

But a few blocks down we came upon the burned out remains of Jasper Anglican Church, and a sign on the fence surrounding it warning of asbestos in the ruins. It was consecrated almost a century ago, in 1929.

Turning left on Hazel so we could proceed down Patricia Street, we saw a fire-damaged garage that was still standing and probably reparable, but with no obvious burning of the adjacent house - miraculous. Past that street though, there were almost no structures standing.

Just before Patricia Street, north of the Esso station, I think this was a steakhouse or Greek restaurant with a retro blue and white sign - almost nothing remains.

On Patricia Street we saw a section of stores and restaurants where the bottom floor was largely intact, but the roof and upper floors were gutted, with exposed roof beams silhouetted aginst the bright blue sky. But of course, even if this building doesn't require demolition, all the contents are undoubtedly wrecked by smoke or water damage.

All in all, a pretty disheartening visit. So much damage, so quickly, and impacting thousands if not tens of thousands of people. How does a small town come back from the edge of destruction like this? I had hoped we could shop or grab a light meal there, and even though I knew such an act would be fine, it still felt ghoulish somehow, so we headed back to our motel near Hinton.

But before we left, Glory wanted a picture of her with the cartoon bear namesake of the town, and I was happy to oblige. 

Somehow the fact that this statue had survived gave me a glimmer of hope, as did seeing the mountain sheep and elk so prevalent on the way out of town.

From the highway, the signs of the fire are much less visible, and in time, I hope the townsite will look more familiar as well.

Gourd Help Us All - Smoky Lake Pumpkin Fair

It turns out there are a number of good reasons to attend the Smoky Lake Great White North Pumpkin Weigh-in and Fair, less than 90 min northwest of Edmonton.  

The show and shine they host is one of the biggest I have ever been to - well over a hundred exhibitors. Now, I am not a big car guy, but I definitely appreciate a distinctive, vintage or even nostalgic ride, and all that well-represented there. Cars, trucks and vans from the '20s to today, cruisers, hot rods, even a few boogie vans, but there was a tremendous showing for muscle cars throughout the ages, including a lot of vehilces from my childhood. I was too busy being preoccupied to take enough pictures but got this one for a friend:

Food trucks are always a mixed bag for me - tremendous variety but long lineups and longer wait times. My brisket poutine was pretty solid though, I have to say.

We got back into the weigh in at the Agricultural Hall just in time for the last two pumpkins, large enough they had to be brought in by forklift. The runner up was a solid half-ton of gourd, but the entry from Don Crews of Llloydminster tipped the scales at 2137 lbs! Afterwards you can stay and bid on the entries, with half the proceeds going to the local Christmas hamper charity.

Following the weigh-in and a trip to the artisan's market for Audrey to pick up some earrings, we caught the shuttle bus over the the corn maze. A poor season for corn meant you could see over most of the maze, but it still made for a nice walk. There is also a midway where I spent enough money on darts to win a narwhal stuffy for Glory.

There was a beer garden we didn't partake in and a threshing demo we didn't make it to, and a Metis Kitchen Party at nearby Metis Crossing, but the pinnacle of excitement comes at 5:30 Saturday afternoon, at the pumpkin drop.

This is where an enormous crowd gathers around to watch the local firefighters affix a gigantic pumpkin (like, at least 500 lbs, but possibly close to half a ton) to an enormous Mammoet crane, which then hoists said pumpkin some 200 feet in the air before dropping it onto an automobile directly below. 

Spectators are kept at a safe distance by a perimeter rope, and a lucky raffle winner is apparently given the opportunity to push the button that actually drops the pumpkin, and the excitement builds to a fever pitch as the final ten-second countdown begins.

As you might well imagine, that much weight, from that height, makes a sizable impact.

In addition to shattering the pumpkin and scattering its innards over several yards, the rear roof of the car was totally crushed, it was shifted back a few inches on its axles, and we could feel the hit from where we were seated on the ground some thirty yards away.

A second pumpkin was set up and winched into position high in the air, and the eagerly shouted countdown yielded results that were at once predictable yet spectacular.

After the firefighters made sure there were no sharp shards of metal strewn amongst the shell and guts of the fallen pumpkins, a final countdown unleashed the crowd from the safety perimeter and onto the impact site, where they grabbed shards of the shell and other souvenirs - and, presumably, some seeds to perhaps grow their own mammoth squash?

I am almost embarassed to admit just how entertaining I found this entire enterprise; perhaps it was the ridiculous scale of a ton-fractional gourd being dropped by a nine-axle industrial crane from a height greater than most grain elevators.

In the end though, I think it is the simple atavism of kinetic discovery, to see and hear and feel such an impact. It feels a suitable way to commemorate the changing of the seasons, the significance of the harvest, and a chance to be outdoors before the weather turns too bitter.

I think we may go back next year as well.

Sundog spied on our journey home

The Trip Not Taken

Back in my third and fourth year of university at Augustana in Camrose, a lot of us were Twin Peaks fans.

David Lynch and Mark Frost's quirky, surreal and stylish murder mystery with supernatural overtones was decidedly not for everyone, so oftentimes a group of people would gather to watch episodes in my dorm room. The wait from May to September to resolve the cliffhanger after a major character was shot was one of the longest I had ever experienced, transcending even the season carry-over during the Borg War in Next Generation.

It was an offbeat show that attracted a lot of offbeat people, like me, my friends, and even a few people in the freshman dorms who similarly found themselves exiled from the communal tv in the lounge. (Kids, this was way before mobile phones, let alone a time when you could watch shows on them. Good video even on a computer screen was still eyars away!) They would pile into my room in Solheim, glued to the 14" tv that was once the mopnitor for my TRS-80 Colour Computer.

(Funny sidebar: when I visited the Edmonton Journal offices to get a copy of the Garneau Block signed by author (and then columnist Todd Babiak) as a gift for a friend, he immediately recognized me as 'Twin Peaks guy', which I found delightfully validating.)

Anyhow, sometime early in 1991, a number of us toyed with the idea of taking a road trip during spring break down to Snoqualmie, Washington, where they filmed Twin Peaks. The diner, the hotel, the waterfall, they were all there to be seen and it wasn't even that far of a drive...but it never happened.

I can't even tell you why this expedition didn't come together, whether it was concerns over possible cost, vehicle reliability, dealing with treacherous mountain roads in February as well as a border crossing or something else. Did any of us even have a credit card at that point? And to be clear, all of those are pretty good reasons not to undertake such an odyssey!

But when I recall that road trip, I never think of it in terms of a bullet dodged, but always as an opportunity lost. 

And not just because the show that inspired the journey has become a legit cult classic, and not just because I still keep in touch with one of the other people and would love to recollect that trip with him, and not just because one of the people who were interested has passed away and another is a person I haven't had contact with since they showed up at my father's funeral. Or maybe it is all those things. 

The main source of regret is that I have no idea what I did do during that spring break, and even if it had involved returning to school later than expected with a repair or tow truck bill in hand, I know those memories would have been, well, memorable, to say the least.

This is why I am so glad Glory took advantage of her own recent opportunity, albeit in a much different context.

She and Fenya had just returned from Churchill and were attending the Hozier concert together before Fenya returned to Toronto. A number of people had dropped in to say hi, including Audrey's sister Vera, who had recently left a terrible job situation, but was looking at another potential opportunity sooner than she'd expected. 

Since her Spanish had been getting rusty due to lack of use (she had lived in Guatemala with Peace Brigades International for a time and is also a translator for hire), she started looking at a trip to Guadalajara, Mexico and found a reasonable airfare. Overhearing her musings, Glory had jokingly asked, "hey, can I come with you?"

Vera said, "well, I leave Saturday and come back the following Saturday, doesn't that muck up your schooling?"

A quick check confirmed that Glory would indeed be back in time for her first class, and having enough money in tips alone (!) to cover airfare etc. and the unexpected willingness of her aunt to let her accompany her, she quickly agreed, and a week after returning home from up north, she departed again for a week down south!

Spontaneity has never been my gift, and I know, I know, that I have missed many an opportunity due to my reluctance to take a leap of faith. I am often grateful for my cautious nature - it has also saved me a number of times! But there are other times where I recognize the detriment that goes with it.

Glory, in the meantime, enjoyed a week with a beloved relative, experienced traveller, skilled translator and appreciator of Mexican and Latinx culture, far from the all-inclusive resorts and tourist zones that many of her classmates have frequented in the past. The photos and stories she has shared paint a picture of a culturally enriching trip that was also a ton of fun. I am a little jealous, but mostly I am proud of her being able to seize that opportunity.

And who knows? If Audrey and I ever end up making our long-talked-about trip to Seattle, Snoqualmie isn't even that far away...

Texans Meet Belugas

Most visitors to Churchill, Manitoba, even in the heat of summer, hope to get a glimpse of a polar bear.

But not the Carrolls - a family from Texas that Audrey and I met on the train from Thompson.

The Carrolls were seated across the aisle from the two of us, their seats facing each other. They were grandmother Marge, her son Michael, daughter-in-law Stephanie, and their young adult son Sean (and I hope I didn't misspell these names too badly!).

From what I understood, they had driven all the way from Arlington, Texas, to Thompson so they could take the train to where they could view beluga whales in the wild. I recall perhaps one or more of them disliked flying, and since flights into Churchill are pretty expensive anyways, why not road trip it?

Michael and Stephanie were pretty close in age to Audrey and I, and all the Carrolls were extremely nice people. Since Audrey and I had made this rail pilgrimage on four previous occasions, we were only too happy to outline what to expect, how the reclining seats worked and how to get the conductor to rotate one of their seat pairs to give them a bit more leg room.

I learned that Marge had been the impetus for the trip, and that seeing beluga whales in their natural environment had been on her bucket list for years. I was astonished, stating how amazing it was that they had (effectively) travelled from one of the largest non-oceanic water bodies in North America (the Gulf of Mexico) to the other (Hudson Bay) to witness such a whimsical animal. That is nearly 1800 miles! At any rate, we exchanged phone numbers so that if they needed anything or had any other questions once in town, we could try to help.

Our train pulled into Churchill around 10:30 Tuesday morning, and the Carrolls made their way to the Seaport Hotel - conveniently, the same place their bus for the beluga zodiac tour would pick them up the next day, before catching the train back Thursday evening. Meanwhile, my cousin Parker picked us up and brought us to his house before he boarded the southbound train that very same evening, as he was flying to meet his girlfriend in Costa Rica the next day.

In addition to letting us stay in the house he had recently remodeled, Parker had also graciously left us the use of a vehicle, which gave me an idea. I texted Stephanie and asked if they wanted a quick drive around Churchill the next day, to see some of the attractions you can't reach on foot. She quickly agreed and we arranged to meet up late the next morning. 

Sean elected to stay home, but when I got to the Seaport, the other three were raring to go, so I drove them past the port to Cape Merry (the blue "1") on the map.

This is a gun battery intended to help defend the harbour along with the imposing Fort Prince of Wales (5) across the Churchill River. There is also a memorial cairn for Jens Munk, the Danish explorer who came here seeking the Northwest Passage in 1619, but returned home with only two other members of his 64-man crew after a brutal winter on the shores of Hudson Bay.

But we were there for the belugas, because from the battery you can not only see them clearly in the river, you are close enough to hear them too.

The Carrolls at Cape Merry

Marge was thrilled, snapping pictures with her 3 or 400mm lens and recording some video. Michael and I walked out to the cairn and I discovered he was also quite a Rush fan, which I found delightful.

Stephanie and Marge must have spent 40 minutes entranced by the frolicking cetaceans, but there was more to see, and of course, a closer encounter with them scheduled for later that day. We drove out to the Churchill Northern Studies Centre and the old rocket range, driving past the rusting hulk of the MV Ithaca just offshore, and also made our way over to see Miss Piggy, the wreck of a C-47 cargo plane.

And it was somewhere on that drive that Marge told me the story that explained precisely why she was so fascinated by beluga whales, and I apologize for any details I have incorrect here.

Many years ago, the family had visited Sea World in San Antonio. Fascinated by the white whales even then, they had either wandered into or stayed in the amphitheatre while one of the belugas was swimming, and he began interacting with them. Marge had apparently been encouraging him to spit water out of his tank and into the seating area, when one of the trainers came by to explain they really shouldn't be there. But as sometimes happens, they ended up chatting him up, learned this particular male whale's name was Beethoven, and I believe Stephanie ended up onstage or helping with the next performance.

Years later at a different aquarium (I want to say Chicago?), Marge was looking at belugas through an underwater window. One of them was 'standing' nearly vertically in the water, looking directly through the glass at Marge, his fins almost looking like they could be waving at her. 

Marge asked a trainer if the whale was able to see her, and when she saw which whale it was, she said, "oh yeah, Beethoven? He's a lover, that one."

It turns out that being a male beluga capable of breeding while in captivity placed Beethoven in high demand, and Marge encountered him a third time at yet another facility elsewhere in the U.S. 

Now, could you prove that this highly intelligent sea mammal could not only see this lady from Texas, but also remember and recognize her? Of course not. But Marge thinks he could and I believe Marge, so as far as I am concerned that settles it.

All the Carrolls were very grateful for a chance to get a little ways out of town and see some of the surrounding area and thanked me profusely when I dropped tham back off at their hotel, but in truth, I was just returning some of the enormous privilege of having been taken to all of those places (and more!) on my previous visits. I appreciated a small chance to pay it forward.

The next day, the four of us made our way down to the Seaport for our own beluga excursion, and saw the family from Texas sitting outside as they waited for the train to arrive from Thompson so they could board it. They'd had a wonderful time on their own zodiac tour the day before, but again made sure to thank me for showing them the other sights. 

I think there is a pretty good chance they may come back some time in the future to take the Tundra Buggy tour and perhaps see Churchill's main animal attraction as well, but helping someone scratch an experience off their bucket list after such a long journey was tremendously gratifying!

Glory finally caught a beluga smile!