This is part two of a seven part series about my trip around Alberta.
The drive out of Jasper started overcast and drizzly but it wasn’t long before I saw the “Scenic Route to Alaska” sign and made the big lefthand turn onto Highway 40. The clouds parted, the traffic thinned, and Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline started playing. The road was an endless climb with endless trees and I couldn’t shake the feeling I was driving through one of Earth’s lungs. Boreal forest as far as the eye could see.
I stopped for lunch at Grand Cache Lake and what followed was the worst catastrophe in the history of sandwich preparation. This lake was surrounded by gale-force winds, but I was stubborn and determined to make my sunflower butter and jam sandwich on the picnic table. Nature had other plans. So here lies a brief catalogue of the tragedies. The sunflower butter lid flew away. Both bread slices were almost airborne at all times. One slice achieved minor liftoff and slapped—toppings side up—the side of the jam jar. Lastly, the surface of the bread was nearly dried out completely from the wind sucking the moisture away. And despite all this, I made and ate my goddamn sandwich in a hurricane. 10/10 would recommend.
The drive through Grande Cache was pleasant! It sits up high on a hill with a main road leading down a long way. It feels like the ocean should be at the bottom of that hill, but it isn’t, so that stops it from feeling like a seaside town. Small homes, lots of outdoor equipment, and every second person owns a large RV.
After Grande Cache I entered oil and coal country. This was an organized operation. The construction zones started, well pads to my left and right, and many stoppages along the way. The cars turned to trucks, and the trucks turned to semis. A collage of fresh asphalt, pylons, and reflective vests ahead of me. Past that, I was on my way to Grande Prairie which felt like the engine room of the province with its mix of oil and gas, agriculture, and forestry industries.
As soon as I dropped into the first valley outside Grande Prairie I emerged in the Peace Region. A pretty name for an equally pretty place. I crossed a large bridge and came out of the valley to more fields and golden light. I rode this high into Peace River which is a quiet—and dare I say, peaceful—town. I dropped off my bags at the Sawridge Inn and ran down to the river to stretch the legs before settling in for the night.
This is part two of a seven part series about my trip around Alberta. Check out the next part.
