“Yes sir, this is the third campground we circled through that was full.” I said.
“Are you heading north or south?” The game warden responded.
“North. We don’t need much space, just enough to park the truck.” I continued.
This is the downside to camping in Banff during the summer. Families and individuals book their plans months and years even in advance to visit one of Canada’s premier gems. Leaving drifters like us to roll the dice when we show up in an area. Despite most of the campgrounds along this desolate stretch of highway running on an honor system of leaving money in an envelope, spots are increasingly moving to online reservations.
I had struck up a conversation with a game warden about our best bet in finding a place. It’s impossible to find any small off-shoots to pull off and camp for a night within the park’s boundary as it’s patrolled regularly. Ain’t nobody looking for a fine.
“If you go up to mile marker [X], and take a lap in that campground, you might find a pull off wide enough for you to park. I’m heading south back to the station and can radio back for the next patrol to skip it so you can avoid the fine.”
So we did. After many thanks and a handshake, we pulled back onto the road.
It was nearing 9 at night, the sky as bright as pictured above. Wasn’t until about 10 when my mind registered “dark” with “dinner time.” With food in hand, Karlyn and I walked down to the Columbia River. The sun made it’s way west.
July, 2019 41/?
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