Aftermath of Jasper

Mike and I left for Jasper at 4 AM yesterday morning, which meant I had to drag myself out of bed at 3:45 AM, fall into the shower, and roll straight out the door, down the elevator, and into the car. Our first big stop was near Edson, where we ran into some wild fog and took a ton of photos. I’m hoping I can crop out the highway in post. From there, we continued on toward Jasper, stopping constantly once we hit the park. Honestly, we couldn’t go more than 10 kilometers without pulling over to capture something.

We hit all the usual spots—Maligne Canyon, Athabasca Falls, and various trails around Jasper. At one point, we considered taking the gondola for some epic views, but $20 per person just to go up a mountain? Hard pass. I couldn’t help but reminisce about my days in Junior Forest Wardens, when we’d make trips to Jasper and entertain ourselves by pranking tourists. The game was simple: pull the van over, pretend to spot something fascinating in the ditch, and wait. Sure enough, a convoy of tourists armed with cameras would pile out of their cars, wondering what we were gawking at. Once the crowd was large enough, we’d hop back in the van and drive off, laughing the entire way. I highly recommend trying this if you’re in Jasper—it works best if you’ve got kids to really sell it.

Back to the present—Mike and I had to time our stops carefully. We had about two or three minutes to grab our shots before a swarm of tourists showed up. It was like clockwork. We spent the entire day exploring and photographing everything we could before finally rolling back home around 9 PM. I barely managed to take a few photos of Miranda’s new skirt before I collapsed into bed and slept like the dead until 8 this morning. Miranda woke me up, and I felt like I’d been trampled by a horse (if you’re not familiar, it’s a riding analogy: “rode hard and put away wet”).

I drove Miranda to work, then headed to the shop in Sherwood Park, only to find out there wasn’t anything for me to do since the Rocky Mountain trip I was supposed to take had already been handled. So I turned around, went home, and promptly fell back asleep until 2 PM. It was glorious, except for the bizarre dream I had about being a militant clergyman ruling a country with an iron fist. There were soothsayers, idols, and lots of guns—like a strange mashup of Christianity and dystopian sci-fi. When I woke up, my laptop was playing BBC news, talking about the latest bombings in Iraq, and I’m convinced the dream was somehow connected.

In other news, I blame Miranda for the Culture Club song that popped up in my playlist.

Also, I got some mail today—a letter from CIBC stamped with “IMPORTANT: Cheque Enclosed” in bold red letters. Naturally, I assumed it was some scam, but since it came from my bank, I figured I’d open it. Big mistake. It did contain a cheque—for $5—but cashing it would automatically sign me up for a $24.95/year Visa payment protection plan. Really, CIBC? I expect this kind of nonsense from Ed McMahon, not my bank.

Lastly, my cat is sitting on my laptop being adorable. Oh, and Tom Waits is still a legend—his songs never fail to hit the right note. “Jersey Girl,” “Hold On,” and the classic “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” have been on repeat today.