B.C. Rockies Roadtrip: Taller than the CN Tower (part 1)

Posted on 04. Jul, 2009 by Kerry Banks in Canada, Writing from the road

courtesy Lone Primate; flickr.com

“Do you think that mountain is taller than the CN Tower?” We all laugh, thinking that Joe is making a joke. But no, he is quite serious. In fact, he will pose this same question several more times as we drive through the Rockies, becoming increasingly convinced in his own mind that none of the soaring peaks around here are actually taller than Toronto’s phallic landmark.<!– fi

There are five of us in the van: Janice from Tourism BC, Tom, our driver and fixer, and three journalists – myself, André, from Montreal’s La Presse, and Joe, from the Toronto Sun. We are on a trip to southeastern B.C., but we have begun our journey in Calgary and are approaching our destination via Trans-Canada #1. The route winds through Banff National Park, where we make a stop so that Joe can take photos of some mountain goats that are grazing by the roadside.

courtesy kris247; flickr.com

Joe is a strange character; red-haired with a crew cut and freckles, he somehow manages the rare feat of looking young and old at he same time. He stands on the shoulder of the road in a loud Hawaiian shirt, ill-fitting shorts and scabrous runners, trying to bring the goats into focus as 16-wheelers howl past only paces to his left. “Watch out for the trucks!” yells Tom, leaping out of the van and running over to make certain that we don’t have to witness a horrible accident.

Joe is a throwback, a guy who would be at home in one of those 1930s movies, screaming “Stop the presses!” The only thing that is missing is the cigar. At least that’s what I thought at first. But a half hour into the trip, I am stunned to see him smoking a stogie in the back seat. Thoughtfully, he is holding it out the window. Joe is also an urban creature. He used to write a column entitled “The Night Scrawler” for the Sun and admits that this is the farthest west he has ever travelled in Canada. Not only is B.C. virgin territory to him, this is also his first up-close glimpse of the Rockies. You would think then that he might be awe-struck by the scenery, but he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, he has spent most of the drive making and taking repeated calls on his cellphone.

As boisterous as Joe is, André, the Quebecer, is virtually silent. A big, broad-shouldered guy who bears a resemblance to Guy Lafleur, he is originally from Belgium. Although André seems to speak English fine, he claims to be uncomfortable with the language, so he usually only speaks if spoken to. Because he never removes his dark shades it is often difficult to tell if he is even awake.

courtesy Mike.in.NY; flickr.com

We make a brief stop at Lake Louise to admire the scenery. Just as Tom predicts there are Japanese tourists paddling around the lake in red canoes. “A red canoe on a blue-green lake – it’s the Japanese ideal of Canada,” he says. Down at the dock in front of the Chateau Lake Louise there are two newlyweds posing for their own personal photographer. The groom is wearing white pants with a pink tie and a pink vest. His bride, a blonde bombshell with a large tattoo on her shoulder, is clad in a tight, low-cut, wedding dress from which her breasts are threatening to burst out of.

Lake Louise may have more people with cameras per square kilometre than any other location in Canada, and within minutes every male with a lens has found his way to the dock to snap the bride with the jiggling bosom. Every male that is, except for Joe. We find him back at the van jabbering into his cellphone. He didn’t even make it down to the lake. I tell him about the scenic vista that he missed at the dock. He seems to think I’m putting him on.

We are headed for Cathedral Mountain Lodge in Yoho National Park. As we drive west through a gauntlet of glacier-topped peaks, Joe keeps asking Tom to stop the van so he can take photos of road signs. While he is outside lining up a shot, I tell Tom, “This cellphone stuff has to stop. The guy is driving me crazy.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies. “We’ll soon be in a cellphone dead zone.”

Tom is right on the money. After we cross Kicking Horse Pass and enter into B.C., Joe can’t get a signal. When he is informed that we are out of cellphone range and will remain that way for a few days, he has a mild panic attack. “What am I going to do?” he says. “My girlfriend is going to kill me.”

(To be continued …)