Day 7, July 25: Canada, O Canada

Day 7, July 25: Canada, O Canada

Today I left the familiarity of Glacier, and the U.S., and headed north across the border for a short stay with our northern neighbors.

Border Crossing

Crossing the border always makes me feel like I suspected criminal. Since Jesse and I tried to visit the Canadian side at Niagara two years ago without passports, my crossing into Canada becomes an inquisition.

“So you were denied entrance into Canada before?”

“Yes sir. A friend and I tried to visit Canada without passports at Niagara Falls and they turned us around.”

“Hmmm.” And then the border agent reluctantly returns my passport, giving me the once over. And he’s not smiling. I still smile my best and thank him. Then ask him for the best route up to Banff. He softens a little – just a very little – and gives me his opinion. I can’t help but think he’s happy to see me go.

“Troublemaker,” he seems to be thinking.

Once on the road again, I’m in Canada. The mountains continue from Glacier, and they seem even more massive for some reason. The mountains don’t end, but continue sitting just off to my left the whole way up to Banff, sometimes closer and sometimes more remote. But then they erupt in front of me, seeming to violently thrust up from the earth. These are not hills. Never could be mistaken for hills, even from miles away. These are the rugged, cragged peaks our imaginations conjure up when we think of mountains.

And the closer I get to Banff, the more impressive they are. I've spent time in the American Rockies, seen the Grand Tetons, visited Yellowstone and the Sierra Nevadas. For some reason, these mountains are more shocking to the senses. Everything here seems more exaggerated. The scent of the pine trees when I pulled into Lake Louise and drove among them was overpowering. Think of a freshly cut pine Christmas tree and how that scent is so strong when it’s confined in a closed space. That’s the concentrated pine smell that filled the car. The mountains, the glaciers, are bigger, higher, more, I don’t know, mountainish. I had been told it was more impressive than Glacier, but I didn't believe it. But if you judge strictly on the magnificence and overwhelming presence of the mountains themselves, I have to say it’s true. The hiking is still up for debate – I can answer that in a few days.

These earth bridges over the highway are for wildlife to cross.
Since built, there are many less incidents of road kill.

I did take a short walk around the campgrounds to get a little walking in. I miss my daily hike, but with the long drive I just didn't have time. But I did walk long enough to stretch my legs and get more awe-inspiring views of the mountains. I walked along the river that runs by the campground. Looking down from the bridge, I felt dizzy with the speed and force of the water rushing by. Again – it was more violent and more powerful than most streams or rivers or creeks I've encountered.

My campground, enclosed in electric wire,
 is just to the right of the trees here. 

One other thing impressed me on the drive into Banff – I experienced a feeling of anxiety. It’s the first time I've felt anxious on the trip, and I can’t put my finger on exactly what has caused it. I don’t feel it so much this evening after finding the park, the campground, and setting up camp, but I don’t know if it’ll come back or not. The only thing I can figure out is perhaps since I've never been here before, doing it alone causes me anxiety. Everywhere else I've been so far has been somewhat familiar if not specifically.

I’m also a little concerned about the cold and rain. The woman I talked to about my full day of horseback riding into the backcountry tomorrow said to plan on temperatures in the 40s and she said it’s rained up here 48 of the last 50 days so to bring rain gear. And the low tonight is forecast to be a cool 31 degrees. I have my umbrella out while I’m writing to shield my computer from the occasional raindrops that are falling. And I've heard thunder a number of times since I've been here. This might, in fact, be the first night I experience rain while camping. It’s hard to believe, but I don’t think, in all the nights I've camped, it’s ever rained on me. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but a warm rain would be more pleasant than a cold one. It will do what it will do and I’m sure I’ll survive. And live to tell the tale. 

But now, I need to bundle up and prepare for this cold night (the first of three). I’ll write more tomorrow as long as my fingers aren't too stiff from the cold to throw out these words.