Less than a minute after crossing the border into Canada, I caught sight of a cute spot to take pictures. I made a quick left. This place clearly exists for "hey, we're at the border" pics and potentially to showcase the little Canadian town in the province of Alberta, which is the other flag.

Photos ensued. Then I hopped back in the driver's seat and we continued our journey. Amazing how much closer our destination felt than when we were in Montana, like ten minutes before.

Our first order of business was saying, "Yay, we're in Canada!" I've been to Canada twice before (to B.C., Newfoundland, and Quebec) but never to Alberta, so I got to add to my list a new province.

Our next order of business was learning to convert kilometers to miles in our head since the Sprinter has no KPH on its speedometer. Getting a speeding ticket first thing here would be lame.

No more interstate signs. We were on "Highway 4" within a different transportation infrastructure. With some weird billboards. One (politely) informed us that: "Alberta uses the metric system." Navigation is in English, at least, but our eyes, attuned for the colors, fonts, and measurements used across the States, would have to adjust to a new system.

Naturally, it was not until after we crossed the border that we noticed we were lower on fuel than we thought.

Well, better learn now what getting gas is like in rural Canada...

And we did learn something. Not only are the pumps different colors (no more depending on green) and HEAVY, there is yet another diesel type for heavy machinery! Gah!

As if converting to litres and Canadian dollars wasn't confusing enough.

That said, I think it may be time...

It was... meh. But, hey, poutine! I had some soup and salad (even if it wasn't the one I ordered) and it being our only hot meal of the day, the food nourished us.

Melissa used a print (yes, print!) road atlas to divert from Google Maps to avoid Calgary. Low-tech solutions for the win! Going west, then north (instead of northwest) afforded us not only beautiful scenery and a lack of workday traffic, but also chance discoveries!

Hooray for random waterfalls! (Also hooray for Melissa giving me precise directions before she took a catnap so I wouldn't miss the turn.) I made a right at the unmemorably-named highway "3a" to find the place.

I turned into the campground by accident at first (since it's called "Lundbreck Falls"). I'd already turned into the wrong parking lot earlier when we got gas. The problem with making incorrect turns in a giant van? You have to un-make them. U-turns are not trivial in a Sprinter! The good news in this case was that campgrounds are made for RVs and thus looped us around back to the exit enabling us continue up the road to look for, we assumed, "Lundbreck Falls Falls" or "Lundbreck Falls: The Actual Waterfall" or something to distinguish the namesake.

We didn't need a sign. We heard the roar of the water as we approached. We parked (whew) and walked around, taking photos, meeting tourists from Way Up North, and listening to the deafening sound of multiple big and small waterfalls pounding down the river under two bridges.

After the rejuvenating break, we got back on the road following Highway 22 north, with the Canadian Rockies on the left, farmland on the right, and not the slightest hint that Calgary existed way northeast of us.

Rolling green hills, mountain peaks in the distance, pleasantly situated farmhouses, spinning windmills, and grazing cows made for a picturesque drive. We saw signs for deer, pronghorn, moose and general 'Stock at large' signs which made those cows appear somewhat more sinister, as if they'd escape the fence any chance they'd get. Cows were the only large animals we saw on the road. Otherwise, only little critters and dangerously low swooping birds crossed our path.

Highway 22 reminded me of Highway 93 in Colorado, a beautiful north-south two-lane road with rolling hills, grazing cows, and windmills, the Rocky Mountains on your left and the big city (Denver) somewhere invisible off to your right.

The speed limit stayed around 100 for most of the drive (an easy conversion to 62mph) but dropped dramatically in the small towns along the way, which was good because we had to turn around not once, but twice, just to stay on Highway 22. Signs tend to be small and last minute in Canada.

Then, finally, we came to the major artery, as big as an interstate: Highway 1, the Trans-Canada Highway.

Banff was stunning from moment one, beautiful rocky crags glowing in the sunlight. After a couple mistaken turns, we found the road up to the campsite we'd reserved for the previous night, hoping it would still be available. We reached the entrance. Because of text-filled signs with rules and regulations about required reservations and whatnot, we assumed we were out of luck.

Nope! The pleasant young Canadian in the booth was polite and helpful, even managing to give us the same spot! B-12. We chatted about puffins with the nice fellow. (And I wonder if America is making me jaded...)

We found our spot and Melissa did a stellar job backing in from a one-way road (in the less convenient direction) to park amongst the trees. Shortly after, I treated myself to a hot shower in the surprisingly nice facilities.

The pitter-patter of rain lulled us to sleep.

The light rain continued all night and the morning dawned cloudy and foggy. After removing the magnetic shades on the windows and rolling them up (our morning ritual), we sat, drank tea, and ate muffins while looking out at the pines. Peaceful and beautiful.

Our adventures the last few days left us sleepy. We slept late and moved slowly, but eventually finished breakfast and headed out of the campground back toward town. Along the winding road, we stopped at an overlook.

Melissa managed to park the long vehicle in the town center parking lot, somewhat of a challenge. The local ATM didn't work for us, so we went to the second floor of a bank to change money from the American green to colorful Canadian dollars. (We did this partially because we'd heard that, further north, fewer places take cards or USD.) Then we walked to the visitors center.

It was PACKED.

For Banff, this might be the norm. Foreign languages abounded. We somehow didn't have to wait too long in line (though the line behind us soon stretched to the door) before chatting with a lovely woman who gave us a map and the latest conditions through Icefields Parkway. Since she promised a maximum 20-minute wait through a construction zone in the middle, Melissa agreed to drive through the national park up to Jasper to continue our route.

Before departing the town of Banff, we stopped place that caught both our eyes as we walked along the charming (well, touristy) storefronts: a chocolate shop.

We both purchased a bagful of sweets so we'd have snacks for our drive (however far we would make it that day.) But the highlight of our fragrant time in the shop was watching the process! A cute guy with a German accent and tattoos let us gape as he made caramel fudge or toffee (or something) and take photos while we all chatted. Friendly guy. After admiring the yummy goodness being produced, we asked if he had any coffee shop recommendations and proceeded to take his advice for our last stop before heading out. I waited in line (for quite a while) to get chai and quiche then we sat at the only empty table while Melissa elevated her leg, still recovering from an old knee injury.

Then we walked back to the car, squeezed out of the lot, which had gotten crowded since we'd arrived, and headed toward one of the most popular spots in Banff National Park.

The farther into the Canada we went, the less set our plans since we really didn't have a sense, beyond some Google estimates, how far we would manage to get every night. (And how much energy we'd have and what delays could slow us, etc.) We mapped out tentative nightly stops, our only deadline being my flight from Anchorage back to Denver, but regardless of what would happen the rest of the journey, we both knew before we started the trip that we wanted to stop at the famous Lake Louise.

Signage in Canada is small, last-minute, and ambiguous, but we somehow found the perfect parking lot with plenty of room in easy walking distance of the lake.

The drizzle continued, the fog barely lifting, but we didn't let that stop us. (But we also didn't have umbrellas. No one in Colorado carries an umbrella. Seriously.)

After admiring the glowy blue water for a short time--too cold for a long stay--we got back in the car and into a line for the only gas station. Both us Melissas gaped as a twin Sprinter in front of us performed the amazing feat of turning around in tight quarters (a very elaborate K-turn) in order to get his gas cap on the correct side...

...only to have some jerk in a small car squeeze through and take his spot!

When we reached the front of the line, we ended up beside other Sprinter owner and so chatted with him, admiring his maneuvering abilities and lamenting people in small cars.

After a mediocre but satisfying hot lunch at the local bar-and-grill we forked off the Trans-Canada Highway (which we'd been following since we entered Banff) toward Highway 93, the Icefields Parkway, the only way to get to Jasper.

This road...

... is STUNNING. Freaking stunning. Hardly any traffic and NO SEMIS ALLOWED. With cleared skies (I was glad we slept in a bit and got the better weather), the peaks dazzled me. Wow. The drive from Banff to Jasper among the rocky crags rising up around us was worth the whole trip. I wanted to stop every five minutes along the 3-hour route to take a photo.

Here are a few, which don't even remotely capture the essence and stare-ability of these mind-blowing snow-covered mountains. Times like these, I think about buying more than the standard point-and-clicker...

As we drove, the engine light came on. Again. We sort of rolled our eyes, hoping it was just the Sprinter being picky about the fuel mixture again. (It was.)

Almost halfway through, we had to stop. Knowing ahead of time that we'd have to wait almost made us not take this route. Instead, I found it a perfect photo op! (Also, the wait was probably only ten minutes or so.)

Definitely worth it.

We turned off and parked at the Columbia Icefields Discovery Centre to stretch our legs and take photos of the impressive glacier. (There are apparently hundreds of glaciers along this stretch.)

We did not do the nearby glass-floored Glacier Walk in the interest of time, price, and, well, heights. We did, however, stop at Tangle Creek waterfall conveniently located right along the side of the road. (Canada is nice like that.)

We did have animal sightings today! First, bighorn sheep at the top of a pass. Next, bears! The lumbering shapes were so close to the road, I said, "Oh my God", slamming on the brakes and pulling over, glad no one was behind me. Melissa took photos from within the vehicle while I caught my breath.

Jasper evoked Estes Park: a cute mountain town surrounded by mountains covered in unique rock formations. But the signage to get onto Highway 16 going eastward was unclear. Luckily, the internet connection held and guided me to make a left where I was sure I was supposed to make a right, so we did not start heading in the complete wrong direction.

We saw many "wildlife alert" signs, since apparently, getting hit on the road is the main cause of death for animals here. We drove extra careful, but Melissa said, "I think that sign is a contractual agreement to actually see some wildlife!"

And what do you know?

At about 8pm, the scenery flattened out and we exited the national park, but had no plans for the night. I'd earlier looked up campgrounds near potential stops. "Maybe we can find BML land or an RV park in Whitecourt," I suggested.

"There's a Walmart in Whitecourt," she replied, looking at her phone. "Actually... there's a Walmart in Hinton, too, which is closer."

Who knew, there are Walmarts in Canada!

We were an hour from Hinton. The Walmart in Hinton closed at 9pm. Despite making great time, we rolled in at 9:02. CLOSED. Wanting to use their facilities, we decided to keep going. "The Walmart in Edson closes at 10pm." Edson was another town 110 kilometers away.

We didn't arrive 'til 10:14pm. D'oh. The gas station store where we re-fueled was also closed and we were worried we wouldn't have a place to pee before hunkering down. (Important stuff!) But an internet search revealed several places open until 11pm or later, even in a town with a fewer-than-10K population. I guess the local establishments survive on highway travelers like us. First, we tried Tim Horton's but their bathroom was "closed for cleaning"! Was there an agreement among all the bathrooms in Hinton to be closed after 10pm? Finally, a Dairy Queen provided. Whew! Afterward, we returned to Walmart and joined the other two RVs in the back of the lot, luckily before it was too dark to drive sans taillights.

I wondered if Canadian Walmarts were like American Walmarts...

To answer the question: Yes, yes, they were.

Even down to the in-store McDonalds where we had some Egg McMuffins for breakfast. We did a mini spree for more diesel additive (so we could safely shut the engine light off), duct-tape, magnets, OJ, and snacks for the road. Then off we went!

Upon leaving Edson City limits, there was a fork.

I said, "East, I think."

She said, "West, I think."

Since she was navigating, I went west, but pulled over so we could consult Google. Correct direction? North! Which could be accessed from either fork. Ha.

We took the quiet two-lane shortcut to 32 (where the truck on the right was maybe not ideal to sit behind at a construction stop) then to 43 where we had to stop for a literal deer crossing the literal road (yay! wildlife!), then to Valley View, where we did a pit stop at Tim Horton's and switched drivers.

Excited, we spotted a sign for "Alaska Highway" with an arrow. Yes! We were going the right way!

Then the road forked. 43N and 44W. No sign there. No clue which way to go.

Glad the internet signal is holding strong. Between Google and our Atlas, we sorted it out.

A while later, we pulled out at a rest stop. I decided to forego the public toilet, even in Canada, because of my squeamishness. (Though there was still enough 4G to send some texts.)

As we headed toward the last big dot, Grande Prairie, we amused ourselves by listening to a SiriusXM rap station that decidedly did not bleep out the swear words, even from the DJs, and had raunchy stories. Alternative deer and moose signs (even some shaped like a moose) promised lots of wildlife, but we saw nothing more.

Grande Prairie is (relatively) huge. 60K+ population, full of big-box stores (including a Costco), and a lot of last-minute signs, including the first one to Alaska!

(And the last one to Alaska. For quite a while.)

A couple turns later, we were on the correct road, heading out of the city toward Dawson Creek (unrelated to the teen drama of the late 90s) and the province border.

But before we reached British Columbia, we passed through a blink of a town called Beaverlodge. Good thing we did not blink!

We saw a sign as we entered the town. We both did a double take. Did we just read that? It caused enough curiosity that we slowed and kept our eyes open as we drove through Beaverlodge. And, sure enough, we were not disappointed!

What the sign promised stood right there! Visible from the main road. So we pulled off (around an RV that had stopped for the same purpose) into a dirt parking lot. There it was!

The sign had said: "Giant Beaver Attraction."

Not kidding.

We met two ladies there and took each other's photo, agreeing that we couldn't quite stomach getting a selfie stick for "opportunities" like this. We stared at each other, up at the beaver, and back, bewildered, perhaps wondering if we'd been on the road too long and were having a shared hallucination. They eventually left and we were alone with the monument.

Pink Mountain to Coal River Lodge

Coal River Lodge to The Caribou RV Park

The Caribou RV Park to Tundra RV Park