Making Lake Louise was yesterday’s stated objective. Headed North for one last time on a highway towing Karta was the prize.
Days of 30km, 23, and finally 20 could have me at Saskatchewan River Crossing three days hence. Progressively easier days to boot. And speaking of boots, mine were killing me.
Given the season and the rather unseasonal weather, the Icefield Parkway was essentially deserted. It’s a magnificent drive but pulling Karta through, over, and around an entire winter’s collection of road sand and gravel didn’t add anything to the walk.
My heart set on 30km, I stomped down the road cursing the gravelled shoulders and rumble strips. Who ever dreamt up rumble strips anyway? They’re an annoyance driving and the bane of cyclists and pedestrians wherever they exist. I let my mind wander, trying to imagine the pseudo-science that went into the sophistry that convinced some bureaucrat that scaring motorists half to death would actually lower deaths by reducing accidents.
Bow Lake turnout magically appeared very nearly 7 hours after I started and, through no real planning of my own, at precisely 30km. I called a halt to the day, sleeping soundly on a willow bush suspended over a snowbank in plain set of dozens of tourists snapping pictures and posing in front of Bow Lake.
Wanting to fit in, I took my own picture of the Lake:
Not wanting to fit in, here’s how the shoreteam found me:
Likely not the last time I won’t exactly be fitting in …