The Great Canadian Outdoors

I was in a National Park, and only very likely to come across elk, black bear and other beasts along the way. The prospect brought to mind my grandmother’s sagely advice, which our hosts for the region, Jeremy and Heather, seemed to agree with: “Don’t get eaten!” Not that either of them ran the risk! They seemed much too capable, running marathons for fun and actually participating in the great outdoors, unlike me. I like taking in the This was a high school geography lesson coming to life. My little voyage across Western Canada had deposited me in Jasper, Alberta, a municipality nestled within Jasper National Park, cradling the Athabasca River Valley, which is surrounded by the Canadian Rockies. These were colours on a map 15 years ago, and now those colours were jumping out at me, in real time.

great outdoors sitting on a bench, eating crisps. Newer advice obtained from the trip: “Leave elks alone during mating season.” And then, welcome to Jasper! There we were, parked on the side of the road, when a bull elk meandering along the way suddenly decided to head-butt our car with his antlers. The little escapade was still flashing through my head as I was walking to dinner, later that evening, when I crossed paths with another. Fortunately, it wasn’t the same guy. This one seemed to be peacefully drifting around in his own world. Possibly the calming effect of the luxurious Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge, a sprawling, beautiful property big enough to contain an award-winning golf course, a sizeable lake and plenty of leafy walkways to get lost in. Our cabins were tricked out with grand fireplaces and spacious sitting rooms, in the manner of suites at regular hotels. If a bit of romance is what you’re looking for, this is the place.

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The next morning brought adventure in the form of a trip to the Columbia Icefield. For the uninitiated, an icefield is a super-glacier or an extensive area of interconnected glaciers. This one feeds eight glaciers. It’s towards the south of the National Park, an hour away from where we were, and what a lovely drive it was! The rolling mountains, shaded ombre with tints of purple, green and ochre, were stunning, to say the least. This time, we made acquaintance with a black bear, ambling on to the road, catching a bit of the sun before lolling back into the adjoining forest. Upon reaching the Columbia Icefield Centre, we hopped on to snow coaches, the ones with gargantuan tires with traction to handle the ice. It was a rainy day, which gives us extra bragging rights: Walking on an ancient glacier, covered in sheets of ice. The area’s icy splendour provides an unforgettable, if not slippery, experience. Heading back towards Jasper, we hopped on to the Jasper Tramway. The Jasper trams run the highest, longest aerial distance in Canada, so high, your ears actually pop on ascent. I like to believe this was the point where I overcame my fear of heights. Who knows I was clutching on to some innocent bystander rather uncomfortably at every wobble! Once at the viewing deck, what we got was an unparalleled view of six mountain ranges and the winding Athabasca river. I also happened to have my first sighting of a marmot, which look like overgrown squirrels, so no risk of getting eaten here, Grandmother!

The outdoors were definitely growing on me, but the city girl in me was rather pleased at our post-glacial meal at the fine dining Tekarra Restaurant. The rustic chic ambience, the music selection (I may have heard some Royksopp in there) and the menu rivals any big city, hatted establishment. Elk’s on the menu (a poetic Alberta elk tourtiere with summer savoury, natural jus and beet paint, if you please) but I decided to keep my good karma with the animal kingdom going by eating the fresh, angel-hair pasta the chef rustled up for me. Canadian wine definitely gets some stars here, especially the full-bodied Kettle Valley Pinot Noir from the neighbouring state of British Columbia. Kettle Valley’s Pinot Gris is an excellent choice for a white; semi-dry with underlying, refreshing citrus hints.

It was back in the van the next morning, as the day’s itinerary included a visit to Maligne Lake, where we were due for a cruise. The name was bestowed by, we can only imagine, a rather dour Frenchman called Pierre-Jean De Smet. There’s nothing malignant about this lake--it’s quite the opposite, in fact--but back in the 1800s, it was quite turbulent, so we’re guessing the Frenchman was tres en colère because of some mishaps. The lake is approximately 22.5 kilometers long, and is a breathtaking blue. I’d recommend going out to the open-air back of the boat, during the cruise, instead of sitting inside. Surrounded by mountains, capped by pristine glaciers, this is the sort of view one dreams of. The sun hits the water, turning it azure, and kayaks with friendly occupants drift by as you drink in the pure air and the majesty of the setting. The boat cruise cuts a gentle swathe towards the small, but very famous, Spirit Island, which is almost emblematic of the Canadian Rockies, and one of the most photographed sights in the world. I had seen posters and postcards of the island at various airports across the world, and to actually step foot on it was surreal. There’s much hiking to be done here, but if you’re on a cruise, do a little walkabout, because you’re on a tighter schedule. I’m not the hiking sort, clearly, but this made me want to put my boots to good use.

Rather dazed on my return, it felt appropriate to toast the day with beer, brewed at the Jasper Brewing Co. in town. Jasper is small, filled with little coffee shops and cool stores, and is picturesque in ways that seem unusual in today’s world. The Rockies loom in every direction, capped by clear, cerulean skies. It also produces some world-class beer, as our six samples revealed. The Honey Bear Ale (a delicious honey medium-light beer) and 6060 Stout (a bitter that packs a punch) were so good, we drank a lot more than we should have, ordering far too many pints. Luckily enough, all we had to do was get on the VIA Rail—the station looks like something out of an Enid Blyton book--for our overnight train to British Columbia. But that’s a whole other story, complete with a different set of mountains, for another day.