Day 1: Jasper to Rampart Creek

you can't stop beauty... on the Columbia Icefield Parkway

This is it... the first day of the Tour.  Actual route and elevation chart are below.  If that one section (Sunwapta Pass) looks steep... that's because it is.  More on that later.  I'll put these route summary and elevation charts in each post somewhere near the beginning, I guess in some sort of lame attempt to convey the "feel" of the day.  

I was excited, and a little nervous to begin the Tour.  I had some minor confidence from Beartooth.  But that was pretty tough for me, and while nothing up North was higher... some of it was steeper, and every ride I planned was significantly further.  Well, this was it.  To quote Andy Dufresne:

"Get busy living or get busy dying." 

Perhaps slightly over dramatic, but you get the basic idea: time to start the Tour.  

my "departure" shot - downtown Jasper at the train station...

And like that... he's gone.  (I just kaizer söze'd you... bike-wise.  Also, this is shaping up to be the post with the highest number of high quality movie references so far.  I'm only using top-tier stuff here).

Panniers are full of warmer clothes, rain gear, some repair tools, food, and plenty of water (two liters in each bag), but no camping gear.  So the bike is "loaded" (I never weighed it, but I'd guess around 40 lbs), but not "fully loaded" because I'm not touring entirely self supported.  No tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, etc.

The ride started off great, and is a steady very slight uphill for a while, with just a couple bigger hills.  Not too tough, great scenery, although a bit foggy and overcast at times.

"winter travel conditions" were "good"... so that's a relief. also, it's July 14th.

crossing the Athabasca River... color is downright milky. full of pulverized rock from glaciers.

Athabasca Pass... if I wasn't rushing through this place on my bike, it would have been a great hike

Athabasca Falls... not great light. The basic idea here is that it's a lot of water. Falling. All at once.

no gas for next 126km... shouldn't be a problem.

Canadians sometimes have funny signs. This one, while different, was pretty effective I think. Mountain Goats!

oh hey, deer. didn't expect to see you here. I was busy looking for mountain goats.

scenery just keeps getting better...

another sign: the elusive woodland caribou. tough to spot in winter/spring. impossible in summer.

A couple notes here that will run too long for captions: The road surface is pretty good (not great) for most of this first day.  There's minor pavement separation (causing that bump-bump-bump every 10 feet or so, but not too bad) for most of the early stuff, but after around mile 40 or 50... it starts getting much worse.  Those mild bumps turn into a solid KA-CHUNK! every 10 feet or so.  It's not debilitating, but it sure is obnoxious.  There is a small strip that avoids the bumps, but there's not a lot of room to operate.  I stayed on this for a while, but the concentration required detracts from being able to enjoy the scenery.

stay between the lines.

After a few decent climbs (here I'd refer you back up to the elevation map), it was time to pedal up the pass.  This wasn't nearly as high as Beartooth, but two things concerned me: 1) it looked (from the map) like it was a lot steeper. 2) I'm more loaded down than I was on Beartooth.  It turns out these fears were warranted.  It was tough.

I haven't discussed "grade" here yet... but if you've ever driven to go skiing in Colorado, and you head out of Denver into the mountains on I-70, there are a bunch of warning signs about 6% grades.  If feels relatively steep.  If you can picture that, you have a good baseline.  Grades of 4-7% are pretty tough, but manageable.  Grades of 8-10% really begin to get pretty challenging.  Grades of 10-12% start to push the barrier into downright unpleasant.  The steepest hill I've ever ridden on my bike was on RAGBRAI, and measured 19% at one point.  But, being in Iowa, that steepness didn't last for too long.  

The grade (or steepness) of Sunwapta Pass was 8-12% for most of it, with much of the climb being right around the 10% mark.  That is steep.  Especially when you're at it for several miles (most of the tough part of the climb is within a 4 mile span, although the summit is a bit further on).  

I struggled.  Pretty significantly.  You see that speed drop from 12mph down to 10, and then to 7 (you're feeling it), and then down to 5mph... and that is slow.  But when you start to dip below 5mph (and I did)... it's a new level of "will I stay upright? at what point do I just tip over here?"  I completed the steep part of the climb at a paradoxically grueling and comically slow 4ish miles per hour.  Very slow.

There were a couple points where I really wasn't sure if I was going to be able to do it.  Twice, I almost got off and began the "walk of shame", but somehow avoided the temptation in an uncharacteristic display of will power.  Finally, I could see the top (the "top" isn't really the TOP, per se, but the very steep grade plateaus around the icefields, and then the pass is just a short ways up from there).  When I finally reached the "top", there's a (very) brief downhill.  That's when something strange happened...

pictures do no justice.

As I began to descend, and the view of the Columbia Icefields (and surrounding peaks) began to unfold in front of me, having been pushed near my physical limit... I started to giggle.  Weirdly, involuntarily, I just started laughing... and really, whether I like it or not, "giggling" is probably the most accurate word.  As my bike began to pick up speed, and I effortlessly rolled toward (truly) indescribable beauty, I just laughed.  

Like a crazy person.

And then, it became more strange.  I felt an unfamiliar lump in my throat.  And the laughter became more truncated... and... what was this feeling?  wait... was I...?  

"Am I crying?!"

Yup.  As I continued to pick up speed (over 20mph at this point), I started crying.  It was like someone made me watch the end of Marley & Me.  Oh shoot, only movie references from top shelf movies -- I almost forgot.  Uh, it was like someone made me watch the end of Brian's Song.

a more accurate elevation map...

I was thinking about it later... and I'm not sure I've ever actually wept with joy before.  I've been really happy, and I've probably teared up several times.  But I don't think it's ever turned to real crying.  This feels slightly weird to admit, and you might be saying something like "What about when your wife was walking down the isle?"  and don't get me wrong, that was infinitely better than biking up a hill... but I mostly just grinned like a big dumb idiot.  No actual tears.  Weird.

My running theory is that it was some form of hysteria brought about by three key factors: 

1. extreme physical exertion
2. being surrounded (and floored) by absolute jaw-dropping beauty
3. most importantly: an indescribable amount of relief that I did not have to pedal uphill anymore. NO MORE UPHILL! 

In fact, I'm not sure if "tears of joy" is as accurate as "tears of relief".  The pain is ending...

After I composed myself, I explored the area (there's a visitor's center up there) and went over the rest of the pass, which was pretty mild compared to that one steep section.

that's a huge glacier back there...

you used to be able to drive out and explore the glacier in this...

... now you go in this.

You can also park and walk up to the glacier.  I thought "Hey, when will I ever be able to ride my bike up to a glacier?  Great opportunity.  Gotta do it."  

Wrong.  The walk up there was straight up a steep hill.  And rocky.  So lugging my bike up there was almost the toughest thing I did all day.  Then... and you're not going to believe this... but it turns out in July, ice melts... so there's a giant river in front of the glacier.  From the ice.  That melts.  Because it's July.  I'm dumb.

This is as close as I was "allowed" to go (I went closer, but still not onto the glacier)

it was a good 20 degrees colder by the glacier... can't imagine why...

I know this shouldn't be funny... but it is... right? Is that a child or a hobbit?

the summit

what, you need proof? seriously, that's the top of the pass.

Also, dad met up with me at the visitor's center to say hi and also let me know that my tent had been crushed by a bear.  Wait, what?

before/after shot of my tent

I didn't have anything in the tent (no food, obviously).  There were no claw marks or anything... it's like s/he just sat on it, and/or rolled over on it.  Weird.

This is sad for a lot of obvious reasons.  It's a nice, expensive tent that I probably can't afford to replace (I bought it on a pro-deal when I was working at REI), Also, now I don't have a tent -- which means two things: 1) I can't go off on my own for a few days on this tour, and 2) I'm sharing a tent with my dad.  Sweet.

There is one other possibility here.  Last night, our campground neighbors had this little yappy dog that wouldn't stop barking.  At one point, dad yelled "SILENCE THE DOG!" in a menacing (perhaps implicitly murderous) tone.  There is a chance that one of our neighbors took exception, and just decided to destroy one of our tents in retaliation.  This seems unlikely, as they are Canadian (and thus famously polite and nice).  Also, our campground was literally crawling with bears... but either way, I still blame dad.

a thorough smashing

Welp, try to get a good night's sleep tonight, and it's off to Banff tomorrow...