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Peyto Lake is known as first of dozens of postcard-photo worthy stops along the Icefields Parkway, which runs between the Canadian towns of Banff and Jasper.

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Canadian Rockies surprise
Irresistible, the Canadian Rockies provide balm for the spirit.
Date published: 9/3/2005

By ROB DAVIS

For THE FREE LANCE-STAR

BANFF, ALBERTA--Six months ago, I did not know this place existed.

I couldn't have differentiated among Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba on a map. Here in Canada, I imagined igloos, polar bears, roads made of ice.

Now I am on a gospellike mission, to spread three words: Go to Banff.

What I've discovered here is wholly different from my stereotyped, Saturday-morning cartoon impression of Canada.

Though I've not visited Saskatchewan or Manitoba, I've met residents of those provinces who've assured me I was misled. My now-tamed imagination conjures wheat-colored pictures of Kansas and Nebraska--only colder in winter.

But Alberta and British Columbia to the west are not known to travelers for agricultural production so much as for their geography. They are home to the Canadian Rockies, and in winter, some of the best skiing in North America.

The Rockies beckoned. Hike me, they said. Mountain bike me, they whispered. Raft the river rapids, they teased.

Like a starving man at a smorgasbord, I wanted to taste everything--but only had time for a fraction.

I hiked nearly 30 miles in a week, and still felt I hadn't done justice to the choices the mountains offered.

But hiking treated me to some of the most stunning vistas I've ever seen. A 12-mile hike in Kootenay National Park, about an hour west of Banff, afforded me views of snow-capped peaks wrapped in traces of late-day haze--images now seared in my mind's eye.

The trek up was arduous--a 3,000-foot climb is not a hiker's friend--but at the summit, I felt like an explorer, as if I were the first human to set foot there. I hadn't seen another person in hours. The only sounds I heard came from the solace of nature's companionship and the sound of my hiking boots crunching across once-frozen tundra.

At the peak, four elk scurried away as I drew close. Farther away, 30 bighorn sheep watched me walk toward them, then retreated across a craggy, rock-covered mountainside, their hoofs echoing like wind chimes, as they danced along the shifting rocks.

I've spent a week in the Rockies, though I'd only planned to stay a couple of days. The allure was too much. Two days became three, three became four, four became seven. I've been firmly lodged in the mountain's grasp.


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Date published: 9/3/2005



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