7.18.2014
A few years earlier I had ridden to Montana, but for a combination of reasons had not made it into Glacier National Park. I was looking forward to getting into the park this time!
There were major forest fires in the state of Washington, the smoke of which was now covering the skies of Montana. My first pass into Glacier on the bike was great, climbing slowly up the Highway to the Sun, the road cut into the side of the mountains that crests the range. The scenery was truly spectacular. Even though the smoke was heavy, it couldn’t overwhelm the effect of lush forests and rivers. With a watchful eye, I noticed that each campground had “Full” signs as I rode through, to be expected at any national park with a reputation like Glacier.
Cresting the top of Logan Pass, there were several bighorn sheep and mountain goats casually wandering the area.
Largest mountain goat of all…
At the top, I rode into a dreamy dark world of peaks barely visible in the brown-orange veil of smoke. Even so it was an incredible sight and one I will always remember.
I camped on the St. Marys side that night in a private campground outside of Babb. The owner kept the kitchen open late for me and I got settled in late that night.
The next day brought very high winds and the ride into the Many Glaciers area was a challenge with the big gusts. I kept imagining what it must be like in Logan Pass at the high point of the park.
Taking a break at the lodge in Many Glaciers, reports were that the winds were up to 85 mph at Logan Pass. Since I was heading back through the park, I hoped the winds would die down a bit before I had to crest the pass. One positive of the intense winds is that they had cleared some of the smoke from the skies.
Da bears
By late afternoon, after a couple of hikes, the winds had lessened and only one major gust moved me into the opposing lane as I passed over Logan, but it wasn’t too bad.
The smoke was still thick despite the earlier winds and I felt soreness in the back of my throat from the acrid smoke.
All the campgrounds were full as expected, however I stopped in at a small campground to ask the hosts if there were any other campgrounds I’d missed. The hosts saw I was on a motorcycle and told me I could camp in the hiker/biker area with the bicyclists for $5 a night. I was surprised and happy though I suspected it was probably not “normal” since the host told me to park the BMW next to their truck and trailer. My companion campers were a young couple from Germany, both architects, who had taken a year off from work and were traveling North and South America. We had some interesting conversations over the campfires.
Sunrise at the camp site
After a couple of days in the park, I felt it was time to head north for Banff. I was so close to the border, I decided to take advantage and get into Canada.
Packed and ready for Canada… eh?
I headed back through the park from the west side and exited at St. Marys, gassing up at Thronson's General Store in Babb before cutting back across the far northeastern corner of the park for the Chief Mountain Border Crossing.
The crossing was small and quiet save for a couple of Harleys in line. By the time I rolled up to the window I was a bit bored. The Canadian officer grilled with the usual questions and when it came to weapons I told him I had bear spray, expecting a hassle. None occurred and he waved me through.
It was exciting finally getting into Canada. The temperature had dropped and was a bit chilly after some hot days in Wyoming and Montana.
The skies stayed dark and loaded with moisture, a bit threatening which dampened my enthusiasm a little, but not much. I felt the rush of excitement for being in a new place with new experiences ahead.
The beautiful terrain of Glacier continued on the Canadian side in Waterton Park.
After passing the official entrance into Waterton Park, the highway slowly veered away from the mountains into the grassy plains of Alberta.
In the town of Pincher, I pulled into the lot of Kootenai Brown Pioneer Village which had a tourism center where I hoped to score some travel maps. I had assumed any camping or hotels near Banff would be full, and the tourism officials said I was right in my assumption.
I knew I’d not make Banff and my goal for the day was to get near Calgary taking Hwy 22 which paralleled the mountains to my left and the grasslands to my right. I hoped to find a hotel in a small town on the way, but had no luck.
I’d lost contact with Rob and Dennis since the park and region had no cell service, so I had no idea where they were. It was later in Calgary that we finally connected by text - they were in a time crunch to get to Minnesota and we’d passed each other going opposite directions on different highways. My ride to Banff would be solo.
Cochrane, a small town northwest of Calgary, was where I landed very late in the day, ending up in the old downtown tourist section where I pulled up in front of the Rockyview Hotel and Texas Gate Bar. I slowly climbed off the bike and took off my helmet to hear Well welcome to Alberta” in a rough cigarette laden voice. I suggest you park your bike around the corner because it gets a bit rough outside the bar here at night. I thanked the guy both for the welcome and warning and talked a bit before moving the bike.
He and a couple of other patrons from the Texas Gate Bar had come out to see the bike and the guy riding it. He wiped my rear plate off, which had been covered in mud and was surprised to see Texas plates. I was warned that Cochrane was the training ground for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and I’d be hassled for any possible reason, thus the plate cleaning being a gesture of friendship.
The Rockyview was a 100 year old hotel on the tourist strip in Cochrane, and the only lodging I could find. The room was tiny and up 3 flights of stairs and dragging my gear up took the last bit of energy I had after 12 days of riding and camping.