I was incredibly glad to have the chance to see the Rockies- a dream I had had for years and years. They didn't disappoint, each section of road giving forth some new sight of extreme glory, beautiful rocky shoulders and water the color of the a summer sky, dark somber forests and flower meadows flooded with color. The only problem I found (as in all of Canada and America) was that I did not drive, and because of this, getting anywhere was impossible, as the north Americans don't really DO public transport. This brought me on to hitch hiking.
Hitch hiking, is one of those things that most people have
mixed opinions about, and I too have my doubts about its safety, but then
again- I had been talking to Banff ’s
locals, and they assured me that everyone hitchhikes in the Rockies, and I had
nothing to worry about. I was encouraged by this, and after one short successful hitch trip, I decided to do a more adventurous one.
I set off with Annika, a girl who I’d met in my hostel, one of
the wonderful people who you only ever meet travelling, a free spirit who came
to America, bought a van, converted it, (so it had a bed in it) and has been on
the road ever since (until now, as it had broken) She was very laid back and fun, a good hitching companion.
After an early start, we stood on the side of a road, thumbs out, surrounded by the shoulders of blue-ish mountains, rearing into a white sky- so
beautiful it hurts in your gut. We had decided to hitch to a glacier 150km
north, along what every guide book says is the most beautiful road in Canada,
if not the world, the “ice fields parkway”, a road which winds through glorious
alpine blue lakes, and vast ice fields, through gorges and flower meadows, sheer
faces of rock and ragged peaks of mountains. I am quoting from a guide book and
word of mouth- I didn’t actually see any of this.
Me and my friend were picked
up within minutes by a lovely German couple, and off we went north. We were very pleased with ourselves, and told the German couple all about our trip and how we wanted to go to the glacier. They were driving to Jasper, a town up north, and were excited to get out of touristy Banff. As we drove, the wind shield began to get covered in ice and snow, in a blizzard.
"I hope this is a brief snow fall." the German woman said. The car turned off the highway and on to the famous "icefeild's parkway." A proud sign announced our route. I was excited, and lent close to the window, camera at the ready, to take some photos i hoped to be truly spectacular.
The only problem was that
we could see nothing. It was, as the Canadians called it, a “white out”, a
frantic blizzard- acres of thick freezing white fog, low white cloud, snow and
ice everywhere- the whole of the landscape was obliterated in an aching white.
From the window of the car, I could see the faint outlines of road, some dark
trees occasionally, but other that this, just a frightening blankness- even
more scary by the knowledge that among this blankness lay huge drops and gorges. The teasing faces of cliffs sometimes emerged spookily from the gloom, and great white expanses appeared to our left (we worked out these were the "blue alpine lakes" frozen over and snowed in) The sky was dense and claustrophobic, and if you peered close enough to the steamy window, you could see that on either side of the road were massive piles of fresh, clean, even snow, which stretched into an unidentifiable horizon (perhaps forever)
The car began to skid and groan, and we passed a car crash which we were too
scared to stop for, in case we skidded and made the crash worse.
"I hope we have snow tires" The German driver joked.
"Do we?" I inquired.
"I don't know. I damn hope so!"
The road,
faintly, led us on and on, ad the whiteness grew more and more intense- so much
for stunning views-and we grew more sure that this indeed was not a good day to visit the glacier. The road itself was now under almost a foot of snow, and the blizzard was swooping ever lower, covering the car in a bridal veil of snow. I didn't say anything, hoping when we got there, the blizzard might have miraculously abated.
Of course, this was not what happened.
Finally we passed a sign saying “Alabaster Glacier”- This was it. With a feeling of foreboding, the two of us climbed out of our hitchhikers car, and waved the Germans off. The car disappeared quickly into the white, and we were left,
gazing at the smooth white pages of snow which became the sky so smoothly you
could not work out where the transition was. The sign pointing to the glacier indicated a walk right out into the deep, frighteningly untouched snow banks. There was no other vehicle or person to be seen.
“Well…shall we go?” I ask, cheerfully, thinking it always
helps to have a positive attitude in times of trouble (and lack of sight). Annika agreed readily, and we set off in the direction the sign indicated, to the glacier. The first problem was that, in this new meter of snow which had fallen, the trail had completely disappeared. We didn't even have tracks of
previous walkers, as nobody else was as crazy as us to want to go to the glacier on a day like that. We walked a bit further, our not-adequate-walking-shoes already filled with frozen water, and the road already dipped into whiteness behind us. All around was white, up and down, east and west, south and north. It's usually easy to work out a which way is north or south, but without the sun as a visual aid, we could have been walking in any direction. The snow got deeper and deeper, and there were no signs telling us we were walking on a trail at all. Soon we were wading up to our waist.
“Have we gone the wrong way?” my friend asks cautiously.
“Maybe…” we plodded on, increasingly sure she was right. My eyes were freaking out, unable to work out the depths and levels of
the snow; the white is so white, so smooth, I couldn't judge anything anymore.
It is a massive surprise when we meet someone coming the other way, in a high vis jacket.
He stopped and looked at us. There is a second of stunned silence.
“Where are you girls going?” he asked, with a rather alarmed
voice.
“We’re trying to walk to the glacier!”
“The Glacier? Are you crazy? Today?”
As he says it, I see it as he does- two inappropriately dressed foreigners, wet, cold, lost in the snow. Very embarrassed, we began to mutter excuses for our hike.
“The glacier is closed today! Weathers too bad, its too
dangerous” The man told us. I tried to fathom that a glacier can “be closed”,
but the man was still talking: “The road is closing too, you better drive home
now, slowly. before you get stranded”
Me and Annika exchanged glances, wondering if now was the
right time to reveal that we couldn't drive home, as we had hitch hiked all the way
here, and that if the road was closed, we really had no way to get home.
"I'll walk you back to the road, that's where you parked, isn't it?" The man, such a North American, was unwavering sure that we could, and had, driven.
I took the plunge. “We hitch hiked here, is there going to be anyone driving back
to down the road, do you think? If there isnt, then we're... sort of stuck...”
“Hitch hiked?! From where?!” The man was appalled.
“Banff ” I said quietly.
“That’s a mighty long way. There wont be many people to take
you home today… you can try I suppose…” The man was unsure and obviously doubting in
our sanity, and this increased as he walked back with us and watched us stand by
the side of the road, in a minus 10 blizzard, teeth chattering, holding out our
thumbs. He looks positively alarmed for us.
“You girls sure are crazy” he told us, eyes round with
fright. "What you doing hitching on a day like this?"
"It was sunny this morning!"
"But don't you want to drive? How could you not drive?"
"We...er... Can't drive"
This frightened him even more. "CANT drive? Seriously? Why not?"
"Um..." The usual reasons were gone from my frozen brain, and I thought, why CAN'T I drive? It would be damn helpful right now.... (I guess this is the downfall of hitch hiking- when you can't get a lift ,and the road closes, and its a blizzard.) My thumb soon had no feeling, and the snow lashed against us.
Trying to be positive, we determinedly keep thumbing, but saw only one vehicle, which didn't stop and pick us up. As the time lengthened, we began to dance to keep warm. At first the man seemed even more perturbed. But as the dance became violent yoga stretch disco, (with thumb improvisation) he began to laugh.
The man laughed and laughed. He laughed so much his hat fell off. Then he
walked off, and arrived a few moments later with a car. (at this point we were a little bit worried about HIS sanity, which just goes to show how confused you can get about each other)
He parked in front of us, flung open his door and let us in.“Wait in here. I have to be on shift patrolling the trail
for another hour. After that, I’ll drive you home.” He left us in the warmth
of the car, with a bag of treats, and an hour later, he drove us home. (thank goodness)
“Why did you guys hitch hike?” He asked. "There's a good old tourist bus that takes you here once a day"
“It costs 150 dollars ” I said, modestly.
"That is a bunch of money" he agreed.
"And- hitching is fun."
"You sure?"
"You get to meet people! Interesting people."
"Like me?" He laughed.
"yeah, I guess."
"So you're telling me, that instead of paying 150 dollars, you risked dying in a blizzard and falling down a glacier, or freezing on the icefeilds parkway JUST so you could meet me?" and then, he laughed so hard the car swerved all over the place and almost hit a smoking wreck of the car crash we had passed before.
