Beach, ND - It's freaking cold at the beach here!

We took two days to drive across Montana. The west side was more to our liking, with trees and streams and mountains. Once we got to the centre and east side, it was one golden rolling hill after another, without many humans in sight. Even the gas station we stopped at no longer had humans there. We paid by credit card, and filled up. The signs on the windows looked old and ratty, advertising treats from years gone by. It felt very Walking Dead-ish, without all the zombies.

Montana seems to have a split personality. There are a ton of tiny casinos everywhere, even attached to gas stations, and there are also huge signs warning people that gambling is a sin and they will go to hell if they break the lord's commandments. The casinos aren't the sort we enjoy so we didn't stop.

The temperature went down more the further we drove east. We finally stopped for dinner in the small town of Glendive, MT, at a diner. The place was packed, with almost all men. I figured they must be truckers. We took out our phones while waiting and were happily reading, when a big gruff voice broke in.

"You two are like a cuppela kids on yer phones." We looked up to see two men walking by our table on their way out.

"Just travelling and catching up." I shrugged.

"Where ya from?" the thinner man asked.

"Canada, BC, on the west coast."

"I went to Canada once." We were only a few hundred miles from the border. "Lived there a while playing baseball, in Winnipeg. People there are real nice." It's weird how Americans always say that to us. I know some horrible Canadians too. It's as if we put them in hiding when Americans come to visit, or something. Or it might just be the way we say "Sorry" for everything.

We asked them about themselves. They weren't truckers and the others mostly weren't either. The truckers keep going until they get to the next Pilot station. The guys who frequent this place are mostly oil, rail, and construction men. The big, burly one was from South Carolina, and works for the railroad. He comes up here to make money and then goes home when the area gets too snowy and they close down the work forces. The thinner guy comes up from Tennessee each year to work in construction. The oil industry here is booming and there are more jobs than people available for them. They make a ton of money and then go home for the winter.

After dinner we drove a half hour further, just over into North Dakota. We thought we'd stay at the Pilot station overnight but it was all full so we followed another RV into the North Dakota welcome centre parking lot next door. There was a sign at the entrance telling us in big letters "NO OVERNIGHT CAMPING", but at 9pm the place was full of trucks and a couple of RVs so we pulled in ourselves.

I figured we'd be kicked out early the next morning, but thought the place wouldn't be open until maybe 9am. I took the dogs for a walk at 8 and checked to see if they were open yet and they were, but only a cleaning woman was there. A young woman, covered in tattoos and piercings, potentially homeless, perhaps travelling through, was fast asleep on one of the inside metal benches. That was how I came to the realization that the welcome centre is unstaffed and open 24 hours per day. I stocked up on books and pamphlets about the area and walked back to the trailer.

It soon appeared to us that nobody cared if we stayed there all day and night. Maybe we could live there if we wanted to - as if. Trucks kept coming and going, one even dropped off his big trailer - one with a big logo advertising "TruMoo Chocolate Milk! Nutritious and Delicious!" Oh, and it has "No Artificial Growth Hormones".

A car drove into the parking lot and let out his dog in the pet area, all by himself, ignoring the "Pets must be on leash!" sign. Harold remarked the poodle-ish dog looked just like the scores of sheep we saw all day yesterday on our drive across Montana. The owner of the car didn't get out, but instead started to drive away. At first I thought he was about to leave the poor thing, but no, he was slowly driving along the pet area, and the sheep-poodle was following along beside him. I understand, it's kinda coldish out there, and maybe this is a skill they've worked out for the super cold North Dakota winters, but come on, if you have a dog, get out there and walk the damned thing.

Why the hell is this place called Beach? It's freezing cold and landlocked. It seems almost like sarcasm, but the truth is that it was named after Captain Warren C. Beach of the U.S. Army's 11th Infantry. He led an expedition of railroad surveyors through the area in 1880. That maybe sounds rather boring and not very adventurous, but due to my love of the AMC show Hell on Wheels, I feel like I know the story well about the rough life of those who put through the railroads going from east to west. If you haven't seen this show, you have to! It's a great show and it's given me an historic relevance to many of the places we are visiting on this trip.

Overnight spot: North Dakota Welcome Center
Price: $0.00
Includes: public washrooms, picnic tables, maps and info

Cell & Wifi: Verizon-Good

Glacier National Park, Montana

There is a Glacier National Park in Canada, and there is another one in the US. The US one is attached to a different Canadian National Park, Waterton Lakes National Park. Wouldn't it have made more sense for the two Glacier National Parks, only separated by a silly little border to be the ones attached and we could call that other National Park something else entirely?

I suppose someone might say it would cause confusion, but I think it's more confusing now. Take a look at this recent conversation with my husband ...

"Where are we going tomorrow?" he asked, as he usually does, because I do all the planning.

"We're going to Glacier National Park." I answered.

"Didn't we just drive through there last week?" It was definitely a good question.

"That was the Canadian one. We're going to the US one."

"Oh, are they attached?" he asked me.

"No, the Canadian park that's attached goes by another name entirely."

"I don't get it!" his arms stretched out, palms up, face scrunched.

"Me neither!" shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders helplessly,


How can it be considered good planning to have places with the same name all willy nilly all over the place? It'd be like having two Londons or Cairos or Vancouvers ... well, alright, so it's been done many times already. But don't get me started on how every time I tell someone I'm from Vancouver, they ask "Vancouver, Washington?" and I have to respond "No, Vancouver, Canada."

We can all thank Captain Vancouver for that, spreading himself all over the place. If I had my way, all the duplicate named places would have to be renamed. There really aren't that many cities, are there? With so many languages, I'm sure we could have unique names all over the place.

So eventually we made it to Glacier National Park. Which one? The one in Montana, USA. It's a beautiful park with nice hiking trails, a huge lake, and a breathtaking drive along the 53 mile (85 km) Going-to-the-Sun Road.

When we arrived at the west gate, we had the choice of paying $25 for a one week pass, $35 for a yearly pass or $80 for an annual pass to all US National Parks. US seniors get it for $10 for a lifetime! We chose to pay for the one week pass. The ranger told us Going-to-the-Sun Road was closed past Logan Pass for road work, which was okay, because that is exactly as far as we wanted to go, the midpoint, the pass.

At this time of year, a lot of the campgrounds are closed. We chose the one at the west gate, Apgar. I've stayed here before, about 15 years ago. It's just a short walk to the village of Apgar and Lake McDonald. We checked in early Friday afternoon. All the sites in Apgar are pull-through semi-circles, which is great, but all the ones on the right hand side were taken already. That left us with the left side where our door was on the opposite side from the table and fire pit. Not a huge deal, but not ideal either, when you want to be out by the fire and not have someone sneak in and ransack the place. Cynical? No. As my Mother would say "I'm realistic!" We locked the door.


When I'd been here before, in the summer, we had a camper van, and we drove that over the pass. We went all the way across and kept going through Montana. Even if the road had been open this time, they wouldn't have allowed us to go through there with our trailer. The road is much too narrow and the drop-offs are literally deadly.

I had forgotten just how scary the drops were and how beautiful the sights were. There are amazing vistas all the way up to the top. It was hard for me to look though. Even when we got out and walked, I was terribly aware of how dangerous it was there. I hate that, so I told myself to suck it up, and then it got better.

We stayed until Sunday at noon. We're definitely not your get up and out of the campground by 7am type of people. When we're at home, I often sleep in until 10am. Harold is usually up way before me. When we're away in the RV, his hours don't change all that much, but I find myself following daylight hours more. I'm likely in bed way before midnight and up by 8am at the latest. But then with dawdling around and stuff, we end up in a rush to get out by check-out. I tell myself we're just getting our money's worth.


Overnight spot: Apgar Campground
Price: $20.00 No hookups
Includes: Sani-dump, firepit, public washrooms, showers, hiking trails

Cell & Wifi: Verizon-Poor

Fernie, BC could have been our t-shirt town

This statue is the original Fernie who the town was named after
not to be confused with the current day Fernie who is my stepfather.

My stepfather Fernie doesn't come from Fernie, BC. I expect it would have been very strange to have the same name as his hometown, so it's probably better this isn't where he grew up, even if it might be a nice twist for my blog.

It would have a nice rhythm to it if my father was born over there down the highway and my stepfather was born right here, in the town he was named after. Or actually wasn't named after.

The attraction for us, to the town, is definitely in the name. It was a little out of our way, but we knew it was a ski and outdoor resort, like all the other towns in the Kootenays have become. Plus there is a Craft Brewery in town, Fernie Brewing. Most of all though, we just wanted a "Fernie" t-shirt.

Fernie loves beer, so this could have been his brewery, but isn't.

The ski resort allows free overnight RV parking, but they are closed for the season. So is the Provincial campground just on the outskirts of town. Our only choice was a small RV lot beside a motel in town.

A good location, but very cramped, with room for about ten RVs max, not to mention our next door neighbours with the three ferocious Golden Retrievers. No, not ferocious to us. They loved Harold and I. They just don't like other dogs. Poor slighted Toonie and Teddy.

This may have been more interesting
if I'd shot the 'before' picture instead.

It was another beautiful, warm Fall day. Fall has become our favourite season out here in the west, always warm and sunny, with very little rain. Travel is easy, with all the kids back in school, and it's rare to find a line-up anywhere, except when you come across the road work crews.

Our first stop was Fernie Brewing, where we chose to share a tasting of five different brews, a pale ale, a red ale, a brown ale, a pumpkin brown and a maple porter. I was surprised to find out that I prefer brown ales to the pale ales I have been drinking. We purchased a six pack of the pumpkin brown and the regular brown.

These mountains are all real. No special effects used.

We went for a drive up to the ski resort, but as we'd heard, it was all closed up, even the hiking trails. This is the downside of visiting places in the off season, but we're okay with that. It would have been nice if we could have got a t-shirt there though.

The downtown is a few blocks from the highway strip malls. We drove through it first of all, but it was so dead, we weren't going to get out. But then I wanted a picture so we did get out. Then I looked closer at the street and thought, "Well it's such a nice day and we do need a t-shirt - why not here?" Then a few steps in, we found it more quaint than we'd originally thought. It was really deserving of a walk around.

Have you seen the 2010 movie called Hot Tub Time Machine? The downtown scenes were filmed right here in Fernie's downtown. The movie had a silly premise, but ended up being very entertaining, kind of like Fernie, the town, was to us. Well, we didn't find Fernie the town silly. We underestimated it. Once we looked more closely, we found so much more than we'd expected. Actually, I could make another anology about how Fernie, the stepfather is ... or maybe not. I'll just say - if you could see him running around the house with his dog, hooting and hollering, you'd understand.

Fernie is the only municipality in Canada
 fully encircled by The Rocky Mountains.

The stores are all catering to hipsters and outdoor enthusiasts. We're too old to be the former, but we're definitely the latter. We stopped to try on some hiking boots on a table out front. "CLEARANCE SALE!" proclaimed the big sign hanging on the wall. Unfortunately, the only hiking shoes Harold liked the feel of were ankle boots he didn't need. The ones he did need, hiking shoes - there were none that he liked the feel of.

It's hard to believe those mountains aren't painted.

We travelled on, finding a bagel and coffee shop, where we bought a dozen bagels, of different flavours. We didn't like them. Perhaps we're too suburban to appreciate them. Or maybe they're just too doughy, with not enough flavour. It was a nice shop though and the people were very nice. I bet we'd go back for coffee. Maybe we'd learn to love bagels their way.

Much to our delight, we found a t-shirt shop, just a few stores down from the doughy bagel shop. It wasn't just your regular, run of the mill t-shirt shop either. They had a ton of t-shirts up front, proclaiming Fernie all over them, in a multitude of designs.

In the back, they had all the machines where they made the t-shirts. This should have been the best place to find, the nirvana of t-shirt shops. I don't expect we'll ever find a t-shirt shop with shirts all about 'Tracey' or 'Harold'. My parents have tried, quite unsuccessfully, all over the world, to find a 'Cairo' t-shirt, due to my daughter's name. You'd think that would be an easy find, but you'd think wrong. There are a number of Cairos in the world, all pronounced differently, but the name never printed on a shirt. All we may have is this town, and this shop is the place to get the shirt. Yet, even with that choice and chance, there wasn't one t-shirt we liked. Well, there were a couple, but the only sizes left were X-Smalls and 2XLs, neither one appropriate.

Making our way back on the other side of the street, we wandered into the General Store, with the idea there might be a t-shirt in there. Instead, we found it is no longer the General Store. Now it is broken up into smaller artisan shops. The most interesting was the Printer Shop.

After we left, I wanted to kick us both in the shins!
We forgot to take a picture of the printing press!
I found this picture on their site (hope they don't mind!)
It doesn't look like our man, but that's definitely the machine.

A youngish, perhaps hipsterish, artsy looking man, with a beard and a toque, was running an antique printing press. His work partner, a youngish, also artsy looking, and equally maybe hipsterish woman was laying out designs behind him.

The machine he worked on looked very steampunkish, all black and brown iron bars and gears. He was using it to print coasters, one at a time, for an upcoming music festival.

He already had the design plate and ink in there somewhere, and he'd put the coaster cardboard into the slot, then push down the big metal bar, that would press the iron doodads together and make an indentation into the cardboard and coat it with ink, before pulling it back up again, and replacing the finished coaster with another blank.

He gave us a couple of coasters as a souvenir. They look old fashioned, with the printed part indented from the rest. It made me realize why the machine was called a press. He was pressing the ink into the coaster! My ah-hah moment, as Oprah would say. I'm a trifle embarrassed I never thought about that before.

Click this image to see how they deal with sidewalk,
or rather, side of the road dining and drinking in Fernie.

All the brew pubs and restaurants have raised daises in the parking areas of the streets, containing tables and chairs and I could imagine how the town looks when in-season. All the young people crowding the platforms, eating and drinking, and partying. I think it's a place we'd like to come back to, during a busier time of the year.

There were another two stores we visited on the main street looking for the illusive perfect Fernie t-shirt, but try as me might, we never did find it. Too picky? Perhaps. But more specifically, it's one of the off-season problems - we find lots of sales, but so little stock in regular sizes. Oh well, beer glasses also make good souvenirs.

Overnight spot: Snow Valley Motel & RV Park
Price: $30.00
Includes: 30 amp, Sewer & Water

Extras: Walking trails along the river a few blocks away, location right on main drag, in city limits
Cell & Wifi: Bell Mobility-Very Good Fido-Very Good

Kimberly, BC could have been my hometown

My father grew up in Kimberly, but moved to Vancouver when he was 17. I have some very young memories of spending Christmas there at my paternal Grandparents house, but only bits and pieces.

One of my most vivid memories is waking up in the middle of the night amidst a group of arms and legs belonging to my slumbering cousins all camped out on the floor. The lights on the tree were still on, and I could see the snow through the windows. The stockings my Grandmother had made for all of us were lined up along the mantle. We took those stockings home with us, when we left, and used them for many years to come, right up until I was an adult.


I remember feeling happy, and secure, and content. I belonged there, in that tangle of cousin arms and legs. I closed my eyes and willed myself back to sleep, worried Santa would come and catch me awake.

I'm not sure why my father's family stopped being in touch with my brother and I after the divorce. People didn't understand divorce back then, and I guess it was my father's responsibility to keep his side of the family together with us. It's sad. I'd have loved to be part of that side of my family, to feel like I belonged with them, like I did back then.

Growing up with my Mother's very small immigrant family I tended to romanticise my larger family on my father's side, because I had only vague memories of them all, and I missed what I didn't have, what I thought it would be like.

I didn't go back to Kimberley again until I was 15. I took things into my own hands and asked my father to pay for the bus, for my birthday present, to take me up there to visit my Grandmother.

The bus ride was an excruciating 18 hours long. The first half was fun. It was the first time I'd been on the road, completely on my own. I met lots of other people, both young and old, and really enjoyed myself. I felt like an adult. Eventually though, the novelty wore off, and I couldn't wait to get there.

I stayed a week, meeting relatives I never knew existed, and people who loved to tell me stories about my father and Grandparents. I went along with my Grandmother while she delivered dinners to the older people on her Meals On Wheels volunteer route. I couldn't believe they had a ski hill right there in town. We had to drive so far to go skiing back home, and here, it was right there on her doorstep. I think I skied on 5 of the 7 days I was there. Friday night was hockey night at the local rink, and everybody showed up to watch the local stars.

When my daughter was 4, about the same age as my earliest memory there, we visited Kimberly again. My Grandparents were no longer alive, but since we were in the area, I wanted to go back to rekindle the memories. They were few in number, but still very important to me. This was the place I had longed to belong.

I was interested to see how the town had changed. It used to rely on the Cominco Mine for the economy, but now they had transformed themselves into a tourist town. There was a Bavarian themed downtown, the Platzl, with a large Cuckoo clock, surrounded by shops and restaurants all in the town theme.

The North Star Mine, where they'd discovered the mineral Galena in 1891, used in a multitude of electronic equipment, was now the site of the Kimberley Alpine Resort. There were new home neighbourhoods being constructed, a lot of log home chalets I guessed were being catered to people from elsewhere, who came to enjoy winter and summer outdoor sports.

The last time I came to visit was in the summer and there were people all over the town. It felt like a thriving resort. This time was somewhat different, not surprising, in the off season between summer and winter. The Alpine Resort area was closed and the Platzl was empty and many stores were vacant.


There were still quite a few Bavarian restaurants, but a quick perusal told me I'd not be able to get a vegetarian dinner there. We opted instead to have dinner on the patio at the Stonefire Pizzaria, overlooking the huge Cuckoo clock.

The pizza was good but the local craft beer was the highlight of the meal. Before we left, we went over to the Bavarian restaurant across the way to take out a piece of Apple Streudel, my favorite dessert.

Driving through town, we saw most of the businesses were for hipster-styled clothing and outdoor pursuits such as fishing, canoeing, rafting, golf, hiking, and skiing.

The campground we stayed at was the exact same one I'd stayed at 15 years ago. It's a very large campground, built on a hillside along a river and has some fantastic hiking trails that lead into snowmobile and cross country ski trails. We went for a long hike up into the hills and then down to the river. The weather was wonderful, warm, sunny, but not hot.

We enjoyed our stay, but my old romanticism of the town seems to be gone. As far as I know, there are no relatives left there, and I no longer feel any kinship to the place. There are just so many years separating me from all that childhood longing to belong. I can remember how it felt, but the feeling is completely gone. It's just a nice little resort town, the Bavarian City of the Rockies.

Overnight spot: Kimberley Riverside Campground
Price: $29.00 Power (15/30 amp) & water (other options available)
Includes: Sani-dump, firepit, public washrooms, showers, pool, hiking trails, beach and picnic area along river.

Extras: Putting course
Cell & Wifi: Bell Mobility-Good Fido-Good

Lake Louise, AB, Canada

Today we made it to Lake Louise. We left the trailer back in the campground, and drove the 28km (17miles) up the highway. Today was Monday, so we expected there to be less people. As we drove by, we noticed the Overflow lot was completely empty, a good sign. The answer guy Harold had driven right by yesterday wasn't there today, but we no longer needed his help.

We headed up the hill and reached the parking line-up maybe 10 minutes later. Ahead of us we saw a truck and trailer being turned away and were so glad we had left our's behind. Like everywhere else in Jasper and Banff, there were a ton of rental RVs, all small enough (19 or 25ft long) to be allowed parking spaces.

The upper parking lot was full of Canadream and CruiseCanada motorhomes. The Canadream RVs look to be higher quality, rented mostly by Europeans and accounted for most of the RVs. The CruiseCanada RVs all have either a Golden Retriever or a brother and sister image on the side entry door, dependent on their size. We were really surprised at how the rental RVs so greatly outnumber the owned RVs in the parks. I'm guessing it's due to the time of year.

Lake Louise has a good size, elegant hotel, the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, at the northeast end of the lake, and the six glaciers at the southwest end - Aberdeen, Upper and Lower Lefroy, Upper and Lower Victoria, and Popes.

We wandered around the hotel for a while, looking at all the sites amidst the crush of tourists, then decided to hike the trail around the lake. In my memory from many years ago, as a child, I remember being able to walk all the way around the lake, but my memory was completely wrong. There are different hikes that start from the Chateau and go up from either side.

We were unsure which trail to follow, so we chose to follow others on the Lakeshore Trail along the northwest side of the lake. It's an easy trail, much like Vancouver's seawall for the first part. It follows the lake down to the far end.

The bright turquoise of the lake I'd remembered in the past was muted by the overcast skies, but as the sun poked through the clouds, we'd get more of the beautiful colour. There were a number of people who rented canoes and were traversing the lake, and quite a few walking along the Lakeshore Trail, but as we got down the end of the lake, there were less and less people.

At the far end of the lake, there is a delta of silt from the glaciers up above. Then we came upon some impressive cliffs that a number of climbers were clambering up. One particular climber, a young woman, was working on a tricky portion where she had to climb out from under an overhang.

She was visibly and audibly frustrated, yelling out her anger every time she made a mistake and lost her grip. I could feel her vexation, as she swung back and forth on her safety line. We wondered aloud why she'd choose such a publicly viewed area to practice. It seemed the few viewers were possibly getting on her nerves as well. We took a few pictures and continued on.

At the point where we saw a sign notifying us that the Nordic Ski trail had ended, the trail started to climb up into the forest alongside the river. At times we were completely alone on the trail, but as it got later, there were a lot of people making their way back down. We hadn't had any plans for how far we were going, and had no idea how much further the trail went on. Due to the lateness of the afternoon we decided to turn around and head back.
I hadn't done any research on the hiking opportunities here. In hindsight, that was a big mistake. Since visiting, I've learned about so many great hikes up there. From the parking lot, it's 11 kms to the Plain of Six Glaciers Teahouse and back. My GPS told me we turned around at the 4.5km mark, going 9km total. Next visit, we'll give ourselves more time and come better prepared to make it through the loop hitting the teahouses, and glaciers. I've read it's a 14.6km loop, so we'll make sure to leave early in the morning.

Back at the campground, we had dinner and lit a fire, then cards and S'mores again, reprising the events of the night before. It was an almost identical night as the previous, if you don't count my dancing around the fire after I roundly trounced Harold's butt at Rummy!

"WHO'S THE WINNER? WHO? WHO? YEAH ME! I'M THE WINNER!"

Overnight spot: Tunnel Mt Village I
Price: $27.40
Includes: Sani-dump, firepit, public washrooms, showers

Extras: $8.80 daily fire permit, includes wood.

Park Fees - $9.80/person/day or $19.60/family/day
Cell & Wifi: Bell Mobility-Very Good Fido-Very Good

Banff National Park, AB, Canada

Whether we're hiking, cycling, touring a city or driving highways and byways, we hate backtracking. I always try to find a way to make a trip into a loop, instead of just back and forth. I do this even when going to the mall, driving my daughter to work or going to the airport.


Unfortunately, unless we were willing to drive hundreds of miles out of our way, there was just no way we could get down to Banff without driving back the exact same way we'd driven up to Jasper. Fortunately, the scenery in Jasper is so breathtaking and quite different when viewed in reverse, so it was just as wonderful to look at on the way back. Plus we were now on the right side of the road to stop and hike down to the lakes along the way.

As soon as we left Jasper and entered Banff, our wifi signal came back. We were planning to stop at Lake Louise on our way to Banff, so pulled off the highway to go up there. There was a man on the side of the road wearing a fluorescent orange vest, talking to people as they pulled up, giving them directions.

I opened my window to talk to him, as we pulled up to him, leaned out, and smiled,

"Hi there ..."
"Hi!" he called back.

I started to ask about where we could park our trailer, but all I got out was a "Wh...." because Harold just kept right on going. The man watched us, as we drove on, with a confused look on his face, that probably mirrored my own expression. Then I turned to Harold.

"Why didn't you stop?!"
"Stop where?" he said.
"AT THE MAN!"
"What man?" he was honestly oblivious.
"Ohmygod! The man who was answering questions!" I was honestly aggravated.
"Oh, you should have told me you wanted to stop and ask questions." he responded, as patient and logical as always.
"Oh you drive me crazy! Of course I wanted you to stop! Just like every single other person stopped and asked! It was like - expected of us - like we maybe just broke a rule, by not stopping and asking."

By this time we were up at the fork in the road. To the left lead to the campground. We'd already decided not to go there. Up the hill was Lake Louise, but there was a sign, "No RVs or trailers!" That left us with a right turn. We followed another truck and trailer down there. One of those ahead of us who had stopped and asked questions.

"Well, he probably knows where he's going. He stopped and asked questions!"

It seemed like a great riposte from my point of view, but fell flat when Harold just nodded at me and followed. About a mile down the road, we came to an old train station turned into a restaurant. This obviously wasn't going to work for us, but at least the road ended in a turn around. We turned around and headed straight on down to Banff.

"We'll do Lake Louise tomorrow."


Our decision felt better as we saw the overfull Overflow lot a mile down the highway. Sunday was probably a bad day to visit. Monday would probably be a much better day, especially since we'd be leaving the trailer behind.

We arrived in Banff, to find they have a few different campgrounds close to town, one with full services and spots big enough for very large RVs, another with electrical hookups for trailers and smaller RVs, and the one we chose, for traditional camping, with firepits, and no hookups. It was very empty and the rangers spaced everyone out nicely.

I've been to Banff a number of times in my life, but this was Harold's first time, so we had to go down to visit the town. It's a pretty town, but all the stores are mall stores. There is little of local interest, a few shops down the end. It cost us a small fortune to buy groceries, and it was almost impossible to bypass the organics. I went looking for S'more ingredients and had problems. Eventually I found marshmallows and a high-end expensive dark chocolate bar, but had to ask where the graham wafers were.

"The what?" the clerk responded.
"Graham wafers ... for S'mores." I said, holding up the marshmallows and chocolate. Her face said she didn't understand.
"They are a type of cookie. You use them with this stuff on a campfire."

She still didn't seem to understand but lead me straight back to the cookie aisle I'd already looked at and left me there. I was flummoxed. How could they not have S'more items in a camping town? I settled on some dark chocolate covered digestive cookies and put the expensive chocolate bar back. Harold thought it was a horrible idea, but I told him he'd see, it was a good choice.

Unlike Provincial and State campgrounds that charge you for firewood, Banff and Jasper charge you a daily fee for a fire permit and allow you to use as much wood as you like. It was about $8. It's a very good idea. It stops people from bringing in their own firewood, which can bring in insects from other areas, and keeps the money in the park, the very place at risk of forest fires.

When we camp with other people, we always have a fire, but we've tended not to do so, when we are alone. We decided to change that, and have a fire, play cards, and drink wine.

Harold started the game claiming he doesn't like to be adversarial with me, but his giggles and huge smile as he promptly kicked my ass all night, belied his words. He loves winning just as much as I do.

We finished off the night with a S'more. It wasn't quite the same. The digestive cookie is sweeter than a graham wafer, but it was an acceptable alternative. Even Harold had to agree, it was better than he'd thought it would be.


Overnight spot: Tunnel Mt Village I
Price: $27.40
Includes: Sani-dump, firepit, public washrooms, showers

Extras: $8.80 daily fire permit, includes wood.

Park Fees - $9.80/person/day or $19.60/family/day
Cell & Wifi: Bell Mobility-Very Good Fido-Very Good