If you get on the road early enough when you're heading out to the mountains, you have opportunities to see some of the most amazing displays of natural magic you've ever witnessed.  This is especially true at this time of year, when you're heading for the high elevations of the Columbia Icefields in Jasper National Park, Alberta, which is what we did yesterday.

We started out with light snow and dark gray, overcast skies.  By the time we were approaching Chief Chiniki Lodge, across from Yamnuska Mountain on Highway 1 West, muted sunlight was breaking through the dense, fog-like layers of cloud, and bathing the snow-covered mountains in magical, almost other-worldly light.  By the time we reached Dead Man's Flats and the Pigeon and Peter Lougheed Mountains, the sun had broken through completely, and large patches of blue were rapidly spreading across the sky.  By the time we got to Canmore, there was almost no cloud left, the sun was beaming brightly on the Three Sisters, Chinaman's Peak (we never remember the politically-correct name given to this particular mountain), and all the peaks ahead and across from them.  The thick blankets of snow were glistening under the golden light, and we thought we'd never seen anything more beautiful. 

After entering Banff National Park, the sunlight seemed to explode from the clouds, blasting away the remaining traces of cloud and painting the sky a soft baby-blue color.  As we drove, we marveled at the way the sun made the crusted snow on the untouched banks twinkle and sparkle.  The snow was unmarred thanks to the wildlife fences set well back from the highway which protect both the wildlife and motorists from collisions with each other.

At Lake Louise, we refueled and took a quick potty break. We still had three-quarters of a tank, but the road to Jasper is one big, long, and steep hill, and there's no gas stations open until you reach the village of Jasper, 236km (147 miles) up the mountain and back down the other side.  At this time of year, Saskatchewan Crossing is closed, you see, so if you need to refuel or take a potty break, you're out of luck  (well, you're out of luck for gas; if you have no issues, you can always pull off to the side of the road and find a place to pee, if you have to).

From Lake Louise, we got onto Highway 93 North to Jasper.  There were a lot of slippery spots due to the slow melting and fresh snow earlier in the week, but overall, the road was in pretty fair condition. After about ten minutes of driving, though, we forgot all about it, as our attention was pulled to the incredible beauty spreading out before us.  Every mountain peak - and on that road, you're surrounded by mountains - glowed in the bright sunlight.  The ice-blue of the glaciers gleamed wetly, and the nooks and crannies of the mountain flanks not normally visible in the summer stood out in stark contrast to the deep green of the spruce and lodgepole pines we passed.  We stopped at many places along the way to take pictures of the giants, including Crowfoot Glacier and Bow Glacier (which is just up the road; if you turn off at Num Ti Jah, you can park in the parking lot and hike right out to the glacier, but more on that next time); at Waterfowl Lake, we were fortunate enough to watch (and photograph) a huge avalanche crashing down Howse Peak. It was breathtaking, and we got more than a little bit of an adrenalin rush because of our proximity to the mountain (we were on one side of the lake, and the avalanche was on the other).

We saw no wildlife on our journey to the Icefields.  It's too early in the year; most of the animals that live in these high elevations are either still hibernating, way up in the trees, or they're high up in the peaks. We did see a lot of tracks, though, so we know some of them are coming down. I guess it's just a matter of being there at the right time, and we weren't.  But that was okay; it meant they were safe from stupid motorists...

With all the stops we made for pictures -  most of which the hubby took, as he hadn't been on this highway in the winter in several years - it was mid-afternoon before we finally reached the Icefield. We'd stopped at Parker Ridge for some pictures, and while he was photographing the magic going on there, I sat in the van with the window rolled down and talked with a mated pair of ravens, who hung out right at the door and looked up at me, cocking their heads as I spoke softly to them. At one point, I invited them to get their feet off the cold ground by hopping onto the van.  The female flapped her wings a little as if to say, "Sure!" and hopped right up on the still-warm hood.  I asked her if I could take her picture, and she just stood there looking at me through the windshield.  I got two great shots of her, and then she hopped off the hood and went back to her mate, who was standing near the door looking at both of us. 

The Athabasca Glacier is receding at an alarming rate, as we discovered.  It's been ten years since we visited the glacier, and the changes were painfully obvious.  The trail to the base of the glacier is much longer, now, and the area in front of the glacier is reminiscent of what the badlands look like in the winter.  The buggies which transported people right onto the glacier were absent, and the Icefield Center was closed and boarded up.  We know that the Center is a seasonal operation, but the absence of the buggies felt really ominous to us.

Of course, it could very well be that the weather we found ourselves in when we arrived at the glacier had something to do with it.  A veil of cloud thick enough to turn the sun into a glowing ball you could look at hung suspended all across the area.  A powerful north wind was lifting up snow and blowing it around, creating snow devils on the glacier and ripping layers of snow off the tops of the surrounding peaks, to twist them into wide, loose corkscrew shapes.  The whole landscape felt alien - otherworldly; it felt to me like we were the first humans, and we were witnessing the birth of the world. What made the experience even more supernatural was the arrival of a mated pair of ravens, who used the van as a wind-break, of sorts, while looking at me with a mixture of expectation and curiosity. Expectation, because they probably figured I would give them food (most people do, and unfortunately, they've become accustomed to that), and curiosity, because they probably wondered what the blazes two humans were doing here, and how we managed not to freeze to death.  We are hairless, after all... LOL

While I watched from the warmth of the van, hubby took a walk up the trail to get some pictures of the glacier.  I'd taken a few shots from inside the van - the wind was just too powerful and too bitterly cold for me to risk getting sick again (I've been battling illness for the last four weeks) - but hubby was much more adventurous.  When he returned, he said it was like he was standing on the frozen planet in the movie Star Wars, and he had only so much time to do what he needed to do before finding shelter or dying.  He said it was very unsettling, and he was very glad to get back to the van...

The return trip was uneventful.  We only stopped a couple of times for pictures, and once we got to Lake Louise, we decided to take the Bow Valley Parkway home, rather than Highway 1 East. It was late in the day, more motorists were on the highway - which meant there would be speed demons to contend with - and hubby thought we might get lucky and see some Big Horn sheep or maybe a moose along the quiet road.  We didn't see any wildlife, but it was nice to be able to avoid the traffic for a little while longer.

If you're ever looking for a Rocky Mountain High, and if you're near enough to the mountains that you can ease your winter cabin fever, take a trip to Jasper.  The drive is well worth it, and the scenery is nothing short of spectacular.  You might even get lucky and see some avalanches - we saw a total of five: two small ones, and three really big ones.  And if you get out early enough in the day, you might even catch the most beautiful sunrise you've ever seen in your life...