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a_t_rainAh, a whole hour of free Net access, courtesy of the Edmonton Public Library. How lovely. Gather 'round folks, it's storytelling time.
Right, so I had to double back from Banff to Jasper to catch the train back to Edmonton. The road the bus takes is called the Icefields Parkway; the Jasper hostel is about three miles along the parkway before you get into town. I get the brilliant idea that I should ask the bus driver to let me off at the turnoff to the hostel and walk the rest of the way, rather than paying $15 for a cab. It's only a mile and a half or so -- a pleasant enough evening walk, even with the big pack.
"Have you walked this way before?" the driver asked.
"Yes," I said. (Meaning, part of it, and I certainly knew which way I was going.)
"Do you carry a big switch?"
I laughed.
So I'm walking along, lovely spring evening with the birch trees starting to go green, feeling quite happy. A Large Black Shape lopes out of the woods and across the road, really quite close, maybe thirty feet ahead of me...
My first thought: My, that's a big dog.
Second thought: Oh-holy-shit-that-isn't-a-dog.
So I stand there, absolutely frozen, for a minute or two, wondering if there are more of them -- the scariest possibility is that I might get between a mother and her cubs, but it isn't going to do me much good to stand there forever, and turning back and walking all the way into town didn't seem like a very good idea either. So, forward. I did what they say to do in all the bear safety leaflets, and started making a lot of noise:
"HELLOOO! LOVELY EVENING, ISN'T IT? ARE THERE ANY MORE BEARS OUT THERE? I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I COME IN PEACE! I LIKE BEARS! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY AREN'T EATING ME! BACKPACKERS DON'T TASTE GOOD! TOO MUCH CANVAS!"
Well, I felt like a bit of an idiot walking along and shouting helpful things in this vein, but I didn't see any more of them (and ended up getting a lift from a friendly German guy who listened very appreciatively to my tale of danger and excitement. Thanks, Johannes.)
A fun story now that it's over :)
Canada's VIA Rail system, as it turns out, works about as well as Amtrak, in that you eventually get where you are going but the schedules are highly theoretical. In the case of the train from Jasper to Edmonton, we arrived three and a half hours late -- just in time for the Oilers' big victory.
I ask the friendly lady at the train station where I can catch the bus (three blocks away, as it turns out) and set off down the road. A few cars drive by with much yelling, honking of horns, and waving of blue and orange banners.
Turns out that's only the beginning of it. I'm staying a block from Whyte Avenue, which is the epicenter of the celebrations, and by the time the bus gets within a few blocks I realize it would be faster to get out and walk, because the streets are absolutely choked with traffic.
And what do I do? I decide I'm craving pizza, and go out on a Quest as soon as I check into the hostel. Me, the clueless out-of-towner, and about five thousand college kids blowing horns, giving each other high-fives, and roaming in massive packs -- the ones that weren't in cars honking like mad. Trying to give me high-fives, too. It's at moments like this that the Imp of the Perverse takes over, and I was half-tempted to tell them I was American and had been rooting for the other side. (I didn't. Discretion is the better part of valor.)
('Twas good pizza, though, when I finally found a place that sold it by the slice, although I had to shout to make myself heard.)
Right, so I had to double back from Banff to Jasper to catch the train back to Edmonton. The road the bus takes is called the Icefields Parkway; the Jasper hostel is about three miles along the parkway before you get into town. I get the brilliant idea that I should ask the bus driver to let me off at the turnoff to the hostel and walk the rest of the way, rather than paying $15 for a cab. It's only a mile and a half or so -- a pleasant enough evening walk, even with the big pack.
"Have you walked this way before?" the driver asked.
"Yes," I said. (Meaning, part of it, and I certainly knew which way I was going.)
"Do you carry a big switch?"
I laughed.
So I'm walking along, lovely spring evening with the birch trees starting to go green, feeling quite happy. A Large Black Shape lopes out of the woods and across the road, really quite close, maybe thirty feet ahead of me...
My first thought: My, that's a big dog.
Second thought: Oh-holy-shit-that-isn't-a-dog.
So I stand there, absolutely frozen, for a minute or two, wondering if there are more of them -- the scariest possibility is that I might get between a mother and her cubs, but it isn't going to do me much good to stand there forever, and turning back and walking all the way into town didn't seem like a very good idea either. So, forward. I did what they say to do in all the bear safety leaflets, and started making a lot of noise:
"HELLOOO! LOVELY EVENING, ISN'T IT? ARE THERE ANY MORE BEARS OUT THERE? I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I COME IN PEACE! I LIKE BEARS! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY AREN'T EATING ME! BACKPACKERS DON'T TASTE GOOD! TOO MUCH CANVAS!"
Well, I felt like a bit of an idiot walking along and shouting helpful things in this vein, but I didn't see any more of them (and ended up getting a lift from a friendly German guy who listened very appreciatively to my tale of danger and excitement. Thanks, Johannes.)
A fun story now that it's over :)
Canada's VIA Rail system, as it turns out, works about as well as Amtrak, in that you eventually get where you are going but the schedules are highly theoretical. In the case of the train from Jasper to Edmonton, we arrived three and a half hours late -- just in time for the Oilers' big victory.
I ask the friendly lady at the train station where I can catch the bus (three blocks away, as it turns out) and set off down the road. A few cars drive by with much yelling, honking of horns, and waving of blue and orange banners.
Turns out that's only the beginning of it. I'm staying a block from Whyte Avenue, which is the epicenter of the celebrations, and by the time the bus gets within a few blocks I realize it would be faster to get out and walk, because the streets are absolutely choked with traffic.
And what do I do? I decide I'm craving pizza, and go out on a Quest as soon as I check into the hostel. Me, the clueless out-of-towner, and about five thousand college kids blowing horns, giving each other high-fives, and roaming in massive packs -- the ones that weren't in cars honking like mad. Trying to give me high-fives, too. It's at moments like this that the Imp of the Perverse takes over, and I was half-tempted to tell them I was American and had been rooting for the other side. (I didn't. Discretion is the better part of valor.)
('Twas good pizza, though, when I finally found a place that sold it by the slice, although I had to shout to make myself heard.)
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-18 11:49 pm (UTC)I haven't been paying attention to the hockey since the Flames lost their series. The year the Flames made it to the last series I went out to the Red Mile just to see what was going on. It was certainly crazy!