From the Top of the World to the Edge of the Sky

Did you know Mount Robson, the highest peak in the entire Canadian Rockies, spends most of its time hidden behind cloud? But on the morning of day three, the summit was pretty much out. All 3,954 metres of it, sharp and white against a blue June sky. The Skipper said it means good luck. I’m inclined to agree. Well mostly (more on that later).

My crew awoke at Robson River Campground a little later than usual (probably because of the campfire s’mores the night before) in a campsite surrounded by the magnificent Rocky Mountains… right there peaking through the trees as if to say “wake up sleepy heads! Come see us up close!”

Mount Robson Provincial Park: Worth the Stop

A short drive east and behold! The whole south face fills view as it rises nearly three kilometres from the valley floor in one unbroken wall, visible straight from the highway. There’s no working up to it. It’s just there. My crew abandoned ship to take in the information centre without me. Besides getting books and coffee and stamps for little guy’s journal, they were surprised to learn that the same Secwépemc people as from the Shuswap have also called this region home for time immemorial. Long before European settlers arrived, they named it Yexyexéscen. Striped rock. They stood in the meadow (and yes, took a few too many selfies) looking up at those layered horizontal bands of shale catching the morning light and didn’t say anything for a bit. Awesome.

We lingered longer than we probably should have, then they pointed me east. Once on the road, the First Mate spotted a moose and then two bald eagles before we stopped for lunch. He announced both with the full enthusiasm they deserved. We’d already had a bear sighting the day before, courtesy of the Dutchman. At this rate the kid is going to need a wildlife tally sheet.

Jasper, Two Years After the 2024 Wildfire

The drive through Jasper brought its own kind of quiet. The 2024 wildfires took 30 percent of the structures in that town. Whole blocks flattened. Gaping holes where buildings used to stand. The adults in my crew, a couple of GrandRaisers who had followed the news with anguished hearts, went quiet driving through it. Knowing and seeing are genuinely different things. The little one and I listened in as they couldn’t stop commenting on the scale of the loss and the resiliency of the community. I carefully navigated the streets under construction and that was not a small thing. The rebuilding is happening on every level, not just the physical one.

Despite kilometres after kilometres of blackened toothpick-like trees where once lush forests grew, we could spot new growth in nature too. Resilience shining through is so very inspiring!

A Prairie Rock Chip to my Windscreen

Then “the incident” happened. Somewhere past Hinton a semi kicked up a rock and put a chip in my windshield. First scar of the trip. Oh, the indignity! A whole 2cm! The crew noted it and actually just carried on like nothing, and I had to too. But I was not happy, I’ll tell ya …

Somehow along the way a bumblebee found its way inside while we were moving. This is the kind of situation that easily could have been absolute chaos and yet, mayhem was averted. The bee made it out alive. Could this count as a little of the Robson good luck? Maybe. But my blemish certainly wasn’t.

By the early evening we were through the foothills and suddenly the landscape opened up completely. Amazingly, the mountains don’t gradually shrink behind you. One moment they’re there, and then the sky just takes over. Wall to wall, horizon to horizon. Big sky country isn’t a marketing slogan. It’s just accurate.

So there you have it… three days in, 865 kilometres from home. The Dutchman is navigating on instinct and paper maps, which is turning out to be more reliable than certain digital alternatives. (Ahem, I’m talking to you Google maps).

The prairies lie ahead…

Did I mention my owie?

Well dearest readers, that’s it for me today, thanks for reading.
Love, Harvey