7/25 Hinton AB to Lake Louise

I was too tired last night to continue my post for 7/24 about Hinton so this first part will describe this bustling town. Hinton is a "transition" town. Many motels/hotels, restaurants, gas stations, etc., but seemingly little in the way of permanent residential areas. Wind blown and dusty, it provides a staging area for tourists at the east gate of Jasper National Park and for construction crews on the way to the oil fields.We lodged at the Twin Pine Motel whose two mythical pines had long vanished under black top. Those pines (most likely lodgepole) were replaced by Engelman spruce and trembling aspen in the narrow strips of remnant grass between lots. I got the feeling from this place and the rest of the town that landscaping was not a high priority. The rooms were old and worn, the hostess, although pretty, efficient and pleasant enough, had an air of tiredness; she had undoubtedly dealt with every jerk to come in off the gas and oil fields with a pocketful of money, muddy boots and no restraints. She directed Eric and me to a room that was already occupied unbeknownst to her. We finally got that straigtened out (never did figure out who that guy was) and headed to the Wal-Mart (ugh!) and the Canadian Tire to pick up motorcycle cleaning items to finally get the road grime and bugs off the bikes. We worked as a well oiled team in the car wash to soap, wash, rinse and dry our rides. Not as good a job as brothers Al or Dave would have done, but respectable for 4000 miles from home. By this time it was getting late and we relied on the restaruant at the motel for sustenance. Two mistakes there. First, it seems that many restaurants/bars/pubs and motels in Canada have a lax policy of smoking/non-smoking area separation and look upon an open doorway as enough of a break. The night desk clerk was a slippery looking dude who leaned in the doorway of the restaurant smoking while keeping an eye on the front door. Second, we ordered the spaghetti and meatballs special. Previous motorcycle trips have taught us that you can't get good food from a restaurant housed in a double-wide trailer. This trip taught us that you can't get an Italian speciality from a Canadian pub. Our fault. The meatballs were those little frozen specimens that are as big as cherry tomatoes (there were plenty of them) and the spaghetti began to melt into formless overcooked mush under the pressure of the weight of the tomato sauce spread on top as we watched. We cleaned our plates and went to bed. I forgot to turn in our key (they only had one since all the others had been stolen) in the morning. Morning 7/25 - The road into Jasper village unfolded a marvel of geology at each bend. We saw huge snow covered peaks devoid of vegetation at their apex, marred by talus slopes and land slides and treeless swaths from snow avalanches, and rivers that ran grey with rock flour created by the colossal weight and pressure of glacier against bedstone. Opaque turquoise ponds dotted the flats while on occasion streams of the same color flowed into the grey waters and formed distinct parallel patterns of blue and gray until the larger volume of the grey water subsumed the blue. Jasper village is a mountain resort town with a semi-faux alpine theme (not all the buildings matched the theme and those that did looked kind of fake) much like Lake Placid used to although it looks much busier than LP. There is an active passenger rail line that runs through town. Tour bus after tour bus disgorged predominantly Japanese, South Korean and German tourists to rake over the free attraction brochure racks, the better, I assume, to pack as many attractions into the schedule before the mandatory move to the next venue and the return home. They queue up at the information desks and keep the clerks busy. Others seek more self-help information from the racks hording maps which they can attempt to follow and lead themselves to the destination. These are the veteran bicyclists in spandex, up-curved hard soled bicycling shoes whose clips clack on the floor, and sleek sunglasses, and hikers and climbers in baggy supplex shorts and shirts, web belts with nylon buckles and Teva sandals for off-trail work. Both groups are tanned, trim and fit with an air of knowing where to go, how to get there, and what to do once there. Past Jasper we took route 1A south which parallels the main Route 1. It is much less travelled and offers incredible views. Just before it meets up with 1 it crosses the Athabasca River at Athabasca Falls. This is a relatively small falls but very violent as this meltwater river sloshes back and forth through a narrow rock gap with great force. Parks Canada did a great job with interpretation (as usual) and set up a trail system that gave great photo ops. We made several other stops on the Icefield Parkway (as Route 1 is also known) to view hanging glaciers, rugged/ragged peaks over 11000 feet, and rivers and ponds in the U-shaped vallies, but the next major highlight was the Athabasca Glacier, part of the Columbia Ice Field. I had visited this glacier with Mike Kudish and Ted Mack in 1981 and was interested to see the changes that had occured since then. Parks Canada again did a great interpretation job and placed year markers along the trail to the toe of the ablating glacier to show where the ice had once been. I remarked to Eric that my memory might be faulty but I didn't remember walking as far as we had to get to the toe. Sure enough we came upon the year marker for 1982 where I thought the old toe had been; it was many yards farther downslope than the existing toe. I would estimate .2 miles. Our sunglasses were not enough protection from the bright sunlight as we climbed up onto the glacier and walked about a half mile up onto the melting ice. The surface was crisscrossed by pale blue rills of melting water and pocked with potholes filled with rock flower beads that looked colloidal. The "beads" were easily crushed between the fingers and left a sticky paste that was so fine you could feel no grit. This is what was in the rivers coloring them grey and making them opaque. Further down the Icefields Parkway we stopped and hiked into the Peyto Lake overlook. Awestruck by the view, we botanized a bit and then headed on to Lake Louise where we got gas and set up camp at Protection Mountain campground. Finally, we visited Lake Louise. The change was shocking. Although theh Lake remained seemingly unchanged, turquoise, translucent and cold, the hanging glaciers above the Plain of Six Glaciers that feed it were greatly diminished. It will be interesting to compare the photos I took in 1981 with those I took today. Also, unlike Parks Canada, no mention was made of climate change on the interpretive kiosks or what effect it might have on Lake Louise once the feeding glaciers were gone. The Fairmont at Lake Louise was on the grand railroad tour in the late 1800's and was a grand hotel. We walked into the lobby and were amazed at the bustle and architecture. We were specks. Dinner was in an excellent restaurant down the hill called the Deer Inn. Contrary to Lou's expectations, black bear did not attack us in our tents that night. I'm going to try and get some of my old 35 mm slides digitized and produce a 1981/2007 comparison of the Athabasca Glacier and Lake Louise and the Plain of Six Glaciers. Dan