Loos

‘Being brave isn’t the absence of fear. Being brave is having fear but finding a way through it.’ Bear Grylls

Back on Track

If there is one thing I’ve discovered on this adventure (apart from there are two Vancouver’s and when a barista in Canada asks you if you need ‘room’ in your coffe they don’t mean room for a swim or a glacé cherry but if you want milk) it’s that I much prefer travelling by train than plane. It’s not the flying, it’s the being squeezed into a suffocating indeterminate space, and being fleeced for the pleasure of any single comfort (on my last flight you even had to pay for headsets). So I was very excited, not just to be leaving Prince Rupert, but that I was travelling this next part of the trip by train. I had a seat booked on an old silver streamlined VIA rail train from Prince Rupert down to Jasper in the rockies. It would take two days with a stop over night at Prince George. Giddy with anticipation even the sun started to come out to see us off.

 

The clouds begin to clear as we chug chug chug out of Prince Rupert 

There didn’t seem that many people getting on the train at the station but I was in that focused London-concentrating-on-getting-a-window-seat  mode and it wasn’t until much later I realised how hilarious I was. There were four other travellers. Two of which were obviously local students and had just gone straight to sleep. I ventured from my seat to see the ‘buffet car’ and get a coffee.

It is now dear reader that I must introduce to you ‘Walter’ our on board steward. Imagine if you will a Johnny Depp like, very camp, listless, First Nation (Indian) perfectly turned out butler who missed out on his one ambition to become a drag queen in downtown Bangkok. Walter was so excited someone had wandered into the dining car he almost fell over. ‘Did I want a drink? Yes of course I could have a drink. Shall I bring it to the viewing car, of course I shall’. I wasn’t quite sure what had just happened but I paid and went up to the saloon and sat down. The train was in fact made up of three carriages, the engine, the seating carriage and the last carriage which was part sleeping compartments, part dining car, with saloon at the rear and a viewing area above. ‘Don’t you want to go up to the viewing lounge?’ Walter was hovering with my coffee in one hand and a drinks napkin in the other. ‘Can I?’ I ventured. To which Walter became a bit more Mr Humphries and waved his napkin hand around wildly ‘You can do what you want darling! It’s your train!’ He squealed.

He wasn’t wrong. A few other folks got on and off (literally in the middle of nowhere, Walter said sometimes people will go into Prince Rupert to shop and they will get off at these three shack stops and just walk off into the forest ‘I mean how could you live like that?!’he groans. It is clear that Walter needs to be near a decent nail bar for survival) but apart from that, the train belongs to me and Richard & Jennifer a  bright healthy young New Zealand couple. Such a squash in the viewing car and a goddam nightmare to move in the saloon as you can see. It was awful for us all.

Difficult to spot amongst the crowds but that’s me, and Richard & Jennifer at the front.

At first the views are sort of infectious and you can’t stop staring and smiling. Then as landscapes become more stunning than the last, you grow a little numb to their affect. Until if like me, you find yourself alone in the viewing car, with the warmth of the sun pouring down and it is possible to have a delicious nap. This is how I think I missed ‘Loos’, although it could be possible to miss it awake too. It is one of those three shed places between Prince Rupert and Jasper. I considered pretending and showing a picture of some beautiful hills and telling you this was Loos but. . . Well either have a look on a map or choose a view you like the look of from below. (Sorry if you’re disappointed but I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve wanted the toilet in the woods).

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Some very dull views ‘n’ stuff

After an overnight stop at Prince George (apocalyptic zombie film territory) you literally have to book a hotel and meet up again in the morning. It was a bit like a school trip. Richard and Jennifer had found their hostel and had a good night sleep, I was still alive, we grabbed what sweets we could from the tourist information shop, Richard filled up his flask from the free tea urn (very sensible,I thought) Walter did a head count and we scrambled back on.

Apart from epic landscapes I did see deer, eagles and four black bears. They were brief but very clear and such a complete delight to see in the wild. One of the bears was scratching his back on a tree, one climbing the rocky siding and just watched us go past. One I saw when we were moving very slowly, he was chewing berries by the rail track and again just watched us roll by. Just as we had gone by I decided to take a picture, it is another in my collection of National Geographic masterpieces that I have so diligently worked on for you. Let’s call this ‘spot the bear’ 20p if you get the cross is in the right place:

 

The views got more impressive the nearer we got to Jasper in direct correlation with Walter’s customer service. Apart from sometimes being asleep when you wanted a coffee or so lethargic he would roll his eyes at having to put another brew on, he had also taken to giving little ‘commentaries’ on where we were. Lovely, yes I know, but it was the languid teenage delivery that was so funny , ‘Soo…this is like Yellowheaded pass, this is Moose lake, I’ve never seen one though so . . . .ah but you can sometimes see a special heron, . . . ummm I’ve forgotten the name, so everyone Yellowheaded pass!’ (That is honestly a direct quote) He would always end with a flourish a bit like a six year old who’d just done a ‘show’ in the kitchen. I think I just laughed out loud at one point, it was comic genius, Basil Fawlty eat-your-heart-out.

This is the view chugging in to Jasper National park:

Jasper

Jasper has just stepped out of a fairytale story book. It is practically perfect. The air is  clean, crisp and smells of fresh pine. The houses are charming rugged brick or wooden chalets. The whole town takes up just three blocks but has a library, hospital, fire station, primary school, high school, art gallery, churches and a cinema. It is slow paced, friendly and surrounded by the spectacular mountains of Jasper national park. I liked it a lot. I decided this week I would be more Canadian, be more ‘out-doorsy’! So I booked myself on a white water rafting trip and set off on a hike on one of the trails that run straight out of town. Oh it was dreary:

 

The Athabasca River and squirrel trail Jasper National Park

After sitting down by the bridge to see to some of my more persistent blisters I watched as the white water rafting tours started to roll in. Oh. I knew straight away it was the company I’d booked with, the colours and logo were exactly like the pictures online. Oh. I gulped and watched a bit more. First of all you only needed to be near the river to see how fast it was going. It was icy cold and a strong current. The people in the tour boat I’d booked looked like they were all about twenty, wearing full wetsuits, life jackets and helmets. They were kneeling in the boat paddling with the oars and lithely bounding out of the dingy happily ripping off wetsuits in the middle of the car park. There were lots of high fives and back slaps. Oh. How was I even going to get in to a wetsuit (without a pot of Vaseline?) or for that matter in or out of the dingy without dislocating a knee cap? If I was with friends I wouldn’t mind being rolled across the car park like Mr Blobby and strapped in by some local youth, but on my own? How was I going to do this on my own?

I was struck with fear, perhaps a bit of realistic know-your-physical-limits, but mostly fear. I checked my phone app. Could I cancel? No. I could change the raft to an easier level of rapids. Another raft rolled in, this one was slightly different no one was in a wetsuit, or helmet, they still had life jackets on and seemed to bounce out of the larger raft with ease. Oh shit. I changed the level of jeopardy and started the long festering rot of self doubt all the way home. I was never going to get in or out of the raft without dislocation. I was going to look like the Mr Stay Puft in a life jacket. I wouldn’t have the core stability to stay in the raft, everyone would think I was pathetic. I would have to cancel.

This continued until the day of the raft trip. The new trip said it was easy, beginners level, it would be fine. I had a good talk to myself, already upset that I wasn’t facing the big rapids. ‘Do one thing every day that scares you’ wasn’t that the sage advice from Eleanor Roosevelt? Wasn’t that what you’d been doing all trip?! Come on Beckley. I literally stood across the street from the meeting point. I’ll see what everyone else looks like. I watched, mumbling like a loon shuffling around the park. There was a small group that looked like a family. They didn’t look like superhuman triathletes, I started walking. And you know what happened? A minor miracle.

The tour guide soon caught my eye so I couldn’t veer off, he checked me in and thrust the ‘in-case-you-die-waiver’ in front of me. If you could sign this. I did and started making jokes about it, the family laughed. Mmm. I explained I was scared. So was the daughter in the family. Really? But she was a twenty something year old yoga practioner? And within seconds all my own fears started to fade. I had met them. Friends. In fact I had stepped into a sort of Canadian national lampoons vacation. They were hilarious together, Mum a serial giggler, Dad with the driest sense of humour, oldest daughter whose 21st they were celebrating looking slightly terrified and younger cheeky teenage son. By the time we climbed on the bus I was part of the clan.

We were also united by the fact that the rest of the group were from an old folks home. Yes. An old folks home. Apparently once a year it’s ‘old people’s week’ and they give them a free ride. (Clearly some sort of survival of the fittest euthanasia programme) This was definitely going to be a white knuckle ride but this time because half the group would possibly die en route.

National Lampoons: Shania, Tawna, Don, and Landon, my saviours!

Our fellow rafters

We decided (as a new family unit, me being Aunt Jane from England) that we would suffer less humiliation without the waterproof rave outfits so we just went for the life preservers. It seemed however that it would, after all, take some time to get the rest of the bus on a raft, so we were allowed to go ahead with a few posh folks from the smart hotel. I was relieved I wouldn’t be responsible for accidentally knocking anyone’s pacemaker overboard. We listened to our ‘how not to die in the rapids’ talk and clambered in. It was GREAT!

Rafting on the Athabasca River 

I took my waterproof phone cover and despite a 100% improvement on my last Aquatic photographic attempts (Manly Beach snorkelling). It seems I was concentrating rather more on hanging on, than capturing the real ‘getting soaked’ shots. Which we did. Tawna more than most but yes it was cold and I did look like I’d wet my pants the whole way home. However. I did it. I faced my fears and did it anyway! Not maybe what Bear would find frightening but we all have different fears. I found a way through my fear with laughter. With the help of my new lovely friends who accepted me just as I am. A complete idiot. But now a happy one!

Olympic Kayaking Medalist Jane ‘the rapids’ Beckley

Epilogue

We never did find out what became of the old folks. We hadn’t seen them on the river despite looking back and expecting to see walking frames waving wildly on the horizon. When we finished (an hour and a half later) we were told they were still trying to get them all onboard. . Mmmm . . . So probably lost a few to over exposure. . may be they’re still drifting now? Mmmm maybe. Maybe just a great way to clear those beds.

No sign of the old folks

Next stop . . . Lake Minnewanka