On license plate spotting

This entry published a day after it was written.

It was an SUV that started it. It had a Texas license plate. It reminded me of a game we played during the California sabbatical in 1985, namely license plate spotting. Over the course of several months we got all fifty states plus Washington, D.C.. Then in Yellowstone National Park we started again and got into the thirties in one day if memory serves.

It is both easier and harder on a bike as more vehicles pass you but harder to read them, especially some of the “picture” plates. Also, some cheaters have license plate holders which hide the name of the state. Still, I have a high observation skill despite second rate vision, especially through sweaty sunglasses.

My tally for the first day was the six big provinces, plus a possible on the Yukon, and about half the states, including probables. I found the distribution interesting as most of the Western mountain states were present as well as Alaska, but not Wyoming. There were “Nothern tier Midwestern” states, and several from Florida but relatively few Southern or Atlantic states.

There was also an Audi with what looked like a white rear European plate but I couldn’t verify the country. I did verify a Swiss plate on a camper. At a lookout, I spoke with the owners who were from the German-speaking part of Switzerland. I have also worked out that vehicles coming up in my rear view mirror without lights on area likely to be American and therefore worthy of more attention.

The scenery was naturally beautiful. On the left there was a range of mountains which were in essence a single sheet of sedimentary rock angled up at about 45 degrees. The slope on “my” side was fairly consistent but anything but on the other. I later learnt this was the Endless Range.

For dumb reasons, I missed the Athabasca Falls. I made up for it by taking in the Sunwapta Falls, which had similarities with Maligne Canyon in being what I think of as a “slot” canyon, i.e. very much deeper than wide. (I was able to confirm Utah in the parking lot.)

The Icefields Parkway has a no commercial trucks policy. I was therefore a bit surprised when a pickup truck pulling the rotating thing at the front of a combine behind it. Then again it wasn’t a commercial truck per se.

 I think the Icefields Parkway should ban motorcycles which produce more than necessary noise. No need for wankers on Harleys.

I arrived a bit early at the Beauty Creek Hostel but the only employee on site was prepared to check me in and give me the lowdown on the facilities or lack thereof. No electricity, running water, showers... but plenty of the patina of hostel ageing. When I lay down on my bunk, I discovered that someone had secured a tourist map of New Zealand to the bottom of the bunk above! It also a bunch of license plates attached to the roof of the porch of the Cook House which confirmed my sightings of two states.

For quite some time, I was the only guest despite the place being booked solid. I boiled water to add to some freeze dried Saigon-style noodles and bits which I think have been on a few too many of my trips as backup food in case I wind up in a motel without food being near, such as the Midway Motel in Newfoundland. Its' use was planned in this instance. It was tasty and filling.

Then a party of eleven hydrophobic Italians arrived. I say hydrophobic as they seemed overly troubled by a sprinkle of rain. They rather dominated the cook house making some unknown dish involving pasta of some description, canned peas and ham. Possibly more, but I was only too glad to get out of their way, especially as my supper had been what it had been. Also one of them had commented favourably on me sipping what I think she took to be something sophisticated from a wineglass. It was, in fact, Newfoundland Screech.

My research had indicated a considerable climb to the Icefields Discovery Centre, as in 440 m in the last 10 km of the 17 or so between Beauty Creek and it. It was a panting climb with many stops along the way. I climbed into the clouds and stopped at a strange structure that loomed out of the mist to attach to my helmet and turn on a red blinky. This proved to be part of the Glacier Skywalk. Naturally, the road then plunged out of the cloud in a “wheeing” 60+ km/h descent. (I forgot to turn off the blinky light but it is USB rechargeable.) I was annoyed by a headwind which I later worked out to be a katabaric wind blowing down from the Columbia Icefield.

I made the Icefield Centre in due time to catch my reservation to do a glacier tour via Snocoach and a 33 percent grade. It was what it was. I kept on wondering what the Paternal Unit with his PhD in glacial geology would make of the experience. He would not have been impressed with the driver of the bus back to the Skywalk who talked about how a recent landslide had revealed fossil “troglodytes”.

(Sic)

I am pretty sure she meant trilobites. I shouldn’t have bothered with the Skywalk but it was included in the ticket. Thankfully or possibly not, the mist had burned off and from the Skywalk’s semi-circular, glass floored walkway, you could get marvellous views of the valley floor too many feet below, unless you kept your gaze very much on the surrounding peaks. As I said to a couple of the staff members who later asked how I found it: “It is no place for the acrophobic.”

As I got into the bus back to the Centre, a little boy of Asian extraction excitedly exclaimed “Look! A real cowboy hat!” He was so sweet that I didn’t have the heart to tell him my Tilley hat wasn’t a cowboy hat.

Anyway, back to the Bike and yet another wardrobe change. Up over the height of land between the Arctic and Atlantic (Hudson’s Bay) drainage basins and down with a lot of “whee” through a stunningly beautiful and majestic valley that felt it belonged on the cover of a travel guide or a provincial road map.

It was stunning. Almost to the point wanting to cry.

I was interested to note there was a subtle difference to the geology of the new set of mountains. Or perhaps I had become bored by the mountains on the other side of the pass. Then again, hanging glaciers and permanent ice caps are hard to beat.

I was happy to have disc brakes on the long, fast downhill. No worries about rims overheating.

About an hour later, I was biking along a flattish bit when I spotted a decent sized black bear on the road ahead. I stopped well outside of the Parks Canada recommended 100 m distance. I was pondering the best thing to do next as the bear was stationary, when a tour bus passed me and stopped somewhat closer to the bear. Close enough for the bear to turn around and head into the nearby woods. It lingered a bit, so I decided I would use the bus as cover in order to get past the bear. The bus left before I reached it, but then a series of cars came the other way, forming a barrier between the bear and me.

A few kilometres later, a campsite had a closure notice on account of wolf on it!

The Philippino couple in Jasper had stayed at the Beauty Creek hostel and I think it was outside of their comfort zone. Among other things, it has a firm policy to keep bears from food. This may have been at the heart of their question: “Have you ever been chased by wild animals?” My answer was “Yes. Goldfinches have chased me. Red-winged blackbirds as well.” (I had forgotten the odd Canada goose.) This rather took them aback, expecting some tale of being chased by a bear or something.

While I have worried about theoretical bear encounters, and was concerned when I saw either a wolf or a coyote near Cranbrook when Edward was new, until today, I never had to put anything into practice. And even today, there was little to be afraid of.

Parks Canada has lots of warnings out not disturbing the wildlife. However, in many respects, these are aimed more at the larger mammals. I don’t feel the need to keep 20 m away from a least chipmunk. For one thing, I am not sure I would be able to spot one at that distance. Likewise, what is the Parks Canada approved method for dealing with a whisky jack trying to get at the sandwich you are eating? Also, I pretty sure I am not going to get a $25,000 fine for swatting mosquitoes and black flies. For that matter, if I don’t swat them and they feed on me, does this mean I fed the animals? ;-)

At some point, I think I saw a license plate in the shape of a polar bear which means Nunavut or the NWT. I remember there was bickering over who got to continue issuing them after Nunavut split off from the NWT but I don’t remember what the final decision was. Also, I am not sure I saw it.

I arrived at the Crossing Resort in good time. I was positively thrilled to learn they had a laundry as I had skipped washing my clothes the night before. They also had an ice machine. They didn’t have an Internet connection worthy of the name.

Unfortunately, there is a higher pass tomorrow. This means I have climb up all that “whee” again. Grumble.