Day 4 - Kamloops BC to Calgary AB - 376 miles

Pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/brandonjhuff/CanadaSeptember8

By the numbers
1 - "Oh shit" gravel moment
2 - bicylists on Hwy 1 East
1 - Bald Eagle
1 - Drunk asshole
0 - Tickets

So, it turns out all that booze last was a bad idea. I got up early and took a much needed shower after passing out last night yet we still didn't leave Kamloops until 10am. Oooops. Oh well, it was (mostly) good beer and that's worth it. We book our room in Calgary (more on that later) and hit the road

We know it's gonna be cold and bundle up appropriately and decide to stop for breakfast in an hour or so. We make decent time and hit a few passes before stopping at a Tim Hortons (due to a recommendation from a friend). They just stopped serving breakfast (my favorite meal) so we order a couple sandwiches. I go to pay and they say, "Sorry - we don't take Visa." Huh? What? I'm sorry - that sentence doesn't make any sense. Turns out, American Visa isn't accepted. So, I ask Dan to pay for my lunch. Cool - free lunch! Visa - "It's everywhere you want to be". Except Canada.

We hit the road and the scenery starts to get interesting. And cold. I looked at the forecast and it was 3C today in some areas - that's 37 degrees. The views are spectacular. Snow starts appearing on the jutting peaks around us. Unlike yesterday, I start paying more attention to the sights instead of the road. The roads were average today - nothing even remotely comparable to yesterday's roads. I check my rear mirror to see Dan looking up. I shift my seating position and look up to see a Bald Eagle. I do a triple take just to make sure that I really just saw a large Bald Eagle circling over us. Wow…cool.

We stop in Revelstoke (cool name, huh?) to get gas and warm up a bit before heading up to Rogers Pass in Glacier Provincial Park. I go to fill up and, again, Visa isn't accepted. The only bright spot is the very cute and flirty girl in the store. She says there's snow on Rogers Pass through Glacier park. Yikes. We meet another biker on the road on his way home to Calgary. He's surprised, jealous really, to learn we are that far from home. He takes off as we get ready.

We hit the road and head up the mountain. It gets colder...and more breathtaking. The scenery helps me take my mind off of the fact that I can't feel my hands and my face is half frozen. We quickly catch up with him and follow him through the passes. Up to 5500 ft…err 9000 km (??) and down to 2200 ft we pass the RVs and redneck trucks. The road twists and turns through the valley floor as the mountains jut out of the ground 2500 ft above us. Some of the roads are cut into the rock and require a tunnel.

I’m following our biker friend as we hit the first tunnel and we see the “Loose Gravel” sign a kilometer back. I take the same line and watch our new biker friend hit a nice 2 ft x 4 ft patch of gravel and slide to the side 6 inches. By the time I realize what happened I’m in the same gravel patch and sliding as well. It’s short lived but was certainly a pucker moment for me. Turns out I shot a bunch of gravel at Dan before he hit it too. Ooops – sorry. You should really watch where you’re riding…

We ride and ride some more. Pass after pass, gorgeous peak after gorgeous peak we approach Banff. But then we get there and we’re past it. Without fanfare we passed right on through Banff. Suddenly, we’re out of the sharp peaks and on to the final stretch towards Calgary. The scenery couldn’t be more different. It reminds me a lot of I-40 through Oklahoma or Arkansas – certainly not Canada. But the views up to this last part more than made up for it.

The final stretch towards Calgary is uneventful except for a scare from the Alberta Highway Patrol who caught us at 30 km/hr over the speed limit. Luckily, we ride on without incident and check into our crappy hotel. We don’t mind paying for a decent hotel downtown but everything is a bit off in this place. The shower can’t keep the temp, the décor was stolen from the 70’s and, the Internet is less connected than Britney is with reality.

We clean up and head out for a nice steak place the concierge recommended. Unfortunately, it’s closed so we wander to Celie’s – an Irish pub and order some food (Fish and Chips and Sheppard’s pie). The waitress was hot…or maybe it was the very small plaid skirt she was wearing. I’m not sure. We make it back to the hotel and check out the joint and, luckily, find the bar. Score! We head in for a scotch and to scope the place out. Nothing to see here. Except the asshole at the end of the bar. He’s was British, even though he was born in Canada. He was #1 (or sometimes #2) in (insert sport here) in all of Canada. He starts talking to us, quite drunk, and he’s trying to start a fight. I indulge for a moment and decide that I shouldn’t see how nice the jails are in Canada so I make a few comments that leave him speechless, pay the bill, and head home for the night. Eh, you can’t win them all…

We head back to the states tomorrow – which is good, I can’t seem to figure out how to convert miles/gallon to liters/kilometer. Plus they won’t take my Visa. At least I saw a Bald Eagle in Canada!

Inapporpriate quote of the day:
"Come on - are you *really* retarded if you make $1 million a year?"