The Spray Lakes Reservoir began as a series of small lakes. In 1951, a hydroelectric dam was then built, raising the water levels to create one beautiful lake. Today, this 88-kilometre stretch of water is used both for recreation and to generate power for Canmore and the rest of the Bow River Valley.

From Three Nuns to the 1988 Winter Olympics: Canmore to Banff

The metal jangle of Ry Cooder’s slide guitar serenades us as we motor through a corridor of giant stone crags. It’s a beautiful morning, clear and crisp, and there are dozens of photo opportunities. But once again it’s a tight schedule. Though bound for Banff, on way we’re stopping in Canmore, where the road into town descends sharply for a spectacular vista of the valley and Canmore’s signature landmark: The Three Sisters. Originally called the Three Nuns, these three peaks are now known by the locals as Faith, Hope and Charity.

Formerly a coal-mining town, Canmore has experienced a boom since the 1988 Winter Olympics – when it served as the site of the cross-country and biathlon events. Although Masters is generally vague about his past, he now admits to spending time here some 20 years ago. Evidently it was a tough place back then, he recalls, and the town’s main social hub, the Canmore Hotel, “was a good place to have a beer or get into a fight.” Most of its young people were here because rent was cheap and the town was close to the ski hills around Banff and Lake Louise. But now Masters wants to see how the town has changed. He expects he won’t recognize it.

Besides coffee mugs, Seattle-based Authentic Hendrix also markets a Jimi Hendrix lava lamp, a Jimi Hendrix afghan patterned after the musician's second album, Axis: Bold As Love, and Jimi Hendrix infant wear, including an “Are You Experienced?” diaper cover that comes in three sizes.

A stroll down the main drag confirms his worst suspicions. There are a lot of gift shops. In fact, just about every second store qualifies. “Very boutiquey,” he sniffs. He walks more quickly, his disgust growing. Then something catches my eye in one of the windows. I tell him to wait, and a few minutes later emerge with my first souvenir from the trip – a psychedelic Jimi Hendrix coffee mug that proclaims “Do Your Thing” on the inside rim. I’m pretty sure Henrix didn’t coin the phrase. Still, this is the first Jimi Hendrix mug I’ve ever seen. It’s made in China and sells for a ridiculous $13.95.

We resume walking and Masters spots the Canmore Hotel. “It’s still here,” he says, surprised, “and it looks pretty much the same.” Inside is the dark atmosphere and yeasty smell of your classic Canadian tavern. There are pool tables, a horseshoe-shaped bar, and even though it’s not yet noon, several patrons who look like they’ve been here awhile. “It doesn’t look like they’ve changed the upholstery in the last 20 years,” concludes Masters.

“Well, I’ve never been here before, but I’m sure  at least one thing is different from 20 years ago.”

“What?”

“I bet that they didn’t have that back then,” I note, pointing to the “No Smoking” sign affixed to the front door. 

As much as it has evolved into a tourist haven since 1988, the recent economic recession has hit Canmore hard; we pass several massive resort developments standing unfinished as we roll out of town. It’s not exactly a boulevard of broken dreams, but it is a sobering dose of reality.

Back on the highway, I pull out the itinerary. I don’t have my reading glasses on and I mistakenly tell Masters we’ll be staying tonight at “the Pox Hotel.” He quickly corrects me, “That’s the Fox Hotel.” (He probably stayed up all night memorizing the itinerary.) “It would be interesting though,” he adds, “if it was actually the Pox Hotel and when we arrive the desk clerk’s face is rotting off.”

Aspen, the leaves of which turn bright yellow in the fall, are the staple food of beaver. The tree's buds and shoots are also favourites of moose, while its bark and underlying layer of cambium are eaten by elk and deer in winter.

I scan for more names in the blurry pages and announce my distorted findings. “I see that tomorrow night we’ll be staying at the relaxing Migraine Lake Lodge. The day after that is a pleasant hike to the Lake Agony Teahouse.”

Masters laughs. “It all sounds delightful.”

We make it to Banff in time for lunch at the Coyote Deli and Grill, where our greeter informs us we’re 40 minutes late. It’s a rather pointless observation since the place is half empty. Fortunately, the chow is better than the service.

Banff is a town I’m more familiar with. I first came here in the late 1970s during a cross-Canada roadtrip with my pal High McEachern. We were camping, and while we paid our night’s fee, the ranger told us that bears had been spotted in the vicinity. He wasn’t kidding. The next morning, as we cooked breakfast over our fire, a big black bear wandered into the campsite area, looking for a snack. He disdainfully knocked coolers over with his massive paws as made his way between sites. We tossed our frying pan in the trunk and jumped in the car. It seemed a reasonable response, but the other campers chose a different tactic: they hurled rocks at the bear and yelled. Luckily for them, it worked. The bear left, but it could have been a bloody scene.

There are no bears on the menu today, but we are scheduled to join another trail ride. “I’ve decided that I am too sore to do two more hours in the saddle,” I tell Masters. “Besides there are some things I want to see in Banff. He agrees and we cancel the cowboy outing, arranging to split up and meet again at 5 p.m.. I set off down the street headed for the Banff Springs Hotel, but as is so often the case, I get distracted.

(To be continued …)

Part I, II

Photos: Kerry Banks