Riding Solo: Banff

My time in Banff was brief. I rode into town on a heritage weekend, though no one seemed to be able to tell me what the weekend was celebrating. Despite this, everyone knew it meant a long weekend, and with the weather perfect for hiking, biking, and any number of outdoor activities, this cultural hub of Banff National Park was packed up tight. After grabbing a park pass for the next few days, I spent what felt like half of the day searching for a place to sleep. I finally found what felt like an overpriced shared room at the local YWCA, but not before cursing my decision to forgo making any reservations.

By mid-afternoon though, I’d packed my belongings away and headed into town to explore. The entire place bustled with life; tourists from around the world streamed in and out of shops, dined on the patios of local restaurants, and lounged in beautiful, well-manicured parks. On every corner there was some kind of performance or presentation: Mounties in full dress uniform speaking on the history of the area, park employees educating the masses on local wildlife, the occasional busker playing guitar. I was thankful for the parking that had come with my room at the YWCA, because driving the crowded streets was both a stressful endeavor and a sure way to miss the energy that reverberated through town.

Banff is a quaint place, a mishmash of old and new. Places like Starbucks and Mcdonald’s rub shoulders with local shops housed in buildings older than the shopkeepers, all integrated into a cozy village-under-the-mountain aesthetic. As I traipsed through storefronts and weaved in and out of international crowds, I found myself hungry in front of a little Greek eatery called the Balkan Restaurant. It was an elegant, quiet spot, with classic recipes passed down over generations in the family that operates it. Enjoying a gyro and writing a postcard to a friend back home, I sat in the window and watched the town pass by. It was a strange feeling. I get it every time I visit a place more important than the out-of-the-way locales I’ve called home: an odd sense of being somewhere significant, of seeing a place that people go out of their way to experience.

I left the Balkan Restaurant as evening was coming on, pulling a chilly purple blanket over the sky above Banff . I stopped briefly at my room to grab my camera before crossing the street to one of the first places that had caught my attention as I’d trundled around town: An almost castle-like building, in front of which sprawled one of the most beautiful, well-bloomed gardens I’d ever seen. Though I’d never heard of it at the time, I was looking at the Cascade of Time Garden, a heritage site in Banff that was among the prettiest viewing experiences the town had to offer. I spent an hour there, enduring the late summer mosquitoes, enjoying how amongst the blooms the crowd kept a quiet serenity, as though we’d all made an unspoken agreement that this place was too nice a spot to ruin with the hubbub that electrified the rest of the town. It was a peaceful way to end the day.

I was up early the next morning, in time to witness a cavalcade of horses trekking across the streets in the early morning light. Catching a quick bite of breakfast at Mcdonald’s, I headed out to see the town as it slumbered.  Most of the shops were closed, and seeing as I was checking out of my room in a scant two or three hours, not to mention the miles I had ahead of me, I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to get to know Banff more thoroughly.

I did make time for one last stop before I left town, and that was to the Whyte Museum; a fascinating building dedicated to the history of the area. Founded by local artists Peter and Catherine Whyte, the museum is a collection of adventurous stories, beautiful art, and the larger-than-life people that have shaped Western Canada over the decades, with an emphasis on Banff and the surrounding park. With a rotating tap of exhibitions, the museum is never lacking in interesting artifacts, making it a can’t-miss stop for those trying to explore the culture of the region.

After leaving the museum, I decided to leave town before the highway became jammed with traffic. My next destination was Jasper, British Columbia, and to get there I would have to drive through the Icefields Parkway, one of the most magnificent stretches of road I have ever had the pleasure to motor through. Look for it in the next Riding Solo piece.