We break camp before 9am and cross the Trans-Canada Highway and pass Lake des Arcs with its a large concrete quarrying operation on the way to our next base.
Today is a hiking-free day with a long stopover at Canmore. Canmore was a centre for coal mining until 1979. It avoided becoming a ghost town thanks to the building of a Nordic Sports Centre. Now it’s a more laidback alternative to busy Banff. The area where miners once shacked is now taken by several $4 million homes. Mostly left vacant, these holiday homes for the rich have pushed up local property prices to make it unaffordable for locals. I’m told it is the second-most expensive place to live in Canada, outside Vancouver.
The town’s Main St is closed to traffic. Along with bars and coffee roasters (long queue at Rocky Mountain Bagels), there are numerous outdoors stores, souvenir shops (prints of bears, Rocky Mountain sweatshirts and maple-leaf mugs) plus bike-rental outlets.
I find out what makes up London Fog: steamed milk, creamy Earl Grey and vanilla. I grab an Americano and bagel and watch the pilgrims pass by. Even along the touristy main road, the bins are secured against bear raids.
The group reconvenes after lunch for a half-hour drift along the Bow River on a raft. We spot several elk, including a mother with three calves. No chance of the boat upending on these calm waters.
Our next camp is an hour’s drive further along the river, at Lake Louise. The mountain views continue to impress. I spot a coyote jogging beside the road.
The Lake Louise campsite is fully booked for the weekend and smoke from neighbouring pitches drifts towards my tent. The lake is named for Queen Victoria’s fourth daughter (and wife of the Governor General of Canada, 1884), Louise Caroline Alberta. The state is also named after her. Now, that’s just greedy.
One of the oldest-serving buildings in the area is the Lake Louise Train Station. It no longer serves passengers but Canadian Pacific freight trains still pass the edge of the campsite. We can expect to hear them rumble through the night.
As the light fades I cross a bridge past the electric fence to enjoy a gentle walk along the banks of the Bow.
William Potter's Travel Journals 