looking the part

here we come!

"You know you can camp on any Crown Land in Canada, you don't neeed no permission." The man is talking to me outside a supermarket where I'm watching the bikes. "You can even camp under ANY bridge, and light a fire and everything and the police can't do nothing."  The man looks a little down at heel. "I done that just a little while ago with my friends.  We got a good ol' fire going and had us some beers." The first thing I notice when he first approaches is that he's Indian, First Nation.  He asked me where we're heading and when I mention Montana, he tells me that he's got family on the Flathead Reservation, that the Indians are really friendly and if we ever find ourselves on Indian territory not to be afraid to ask for help.  At which point he offers up his camping information for Canada.

Steph has welcomed us into her fine old house and found room for us despite having friends come to stay over the weekend.  One of the friends is jokingly called Dr. Weed as he is an experienced marijuana grower and supplies it 'medicinally'.  The house has an easy-going open-door shared house feel to it and we are invited to share in meals.  Steph and her partner live close to downtown Calgary in a lovely old neighbourhood.  The city itself now sprawls right across the plain and the downtown has an empty eerie unlived-in hollowness compensated only by the lovely green park that runs along the river bank.  Joggers and cyclists dodge dog-walkers and tourists on the different paths.  Outside a gear shop we meet a fellow cycle-tourist who surprises us by telling us he's from the Isle of Man.  Colin has crossed from the east and is heading towards the Pacific coast before turning southwards.  His bike is heavily loaded - mind-bogglingly so.   

dinner with Steph, Kyle and Jason

In the evening Gayle gets a message from our friend Karen who lives in Long Island.  She's seen that we're in Calgary and so is she.  We meet up for a quick lunch the next day.  Karen has lived in North America for over twenty years but her scouse accent is still broad.  The joy of Facebook - an unexpected chance to catch up with an old friend.

Karen & Gayle stop talking for a few seconds for a photo

setting out after a huge breakfast of pancakes

We head out of Calgary along the bike path beside the river.  After an hour the valley narrows and the bike path leaves the riverside and we are confused.  Which way to go?  We ask a passerby and she suggests we take a train.  A man with his son stops to help, but he doesn't know where the bike path is.  The woman suggests again that perhaps we take the train. The little boy looks us up and down and says "Maybe they don't have any money for the train."  Aha.  He thinks we're down at heel.  We are saved further embarrassment by another passerby who explains how we rejoin the bike route.  

It climbs steeply up onto the edge of the valley overlooking the river and leads us around the back of several housing estates before bringing us out on the old Trans Canada highway.  The road is busy enough but there's a good shoulder most of the time.  Our first day out of Calgary ends above a reservoir when we spurn an ugly campground in favour of a higher spot off the road.  After we've pitched and dined, keen to start with good camping etiquette, I gather together all our food and scented products to store away from the tent.  We have two large dry bags to tie up but there's not a solid branch on any of the trees.  Exasperated, I shove the bags into the crook of a branch at my head height.  If the bears want 'em, they can bloody well have 'em.

seen any bears yet?