Pedal the Highwood Pass – Kananaskis Country / by Barbara Baker

Every June, before Hwy 40 is open to vehicles for
the summer, my husband and I ride the road from the Peter Lougheed Provincial
Park to the Highwood Pass (highest paved pass in Canada). David and I take off
earlier on our x-country bikes because we haven’t crossed over to road bikes or
electric bikes yet like our friends have.

Do I love this ride? I’d be a liar if I said yes. But I do love parts
of it. Like near the beginning where there is a downhill. The scenery is
breathtaking. I love the feeling of accomplishment when I get to the top. And
the descent is a thrill. But the grueling uphill makes me want to swear. A lot.

After the initial downhill, I check my odometer. 5.3 km. Only 11.7 km
to go. Insert a big sigh.

There’s lots of bear scat on the highway. I scan the blooming dandelion
filled ditches for movement. The jagged peaks of the Eastern Slopes make the plate
shifting events more visible and there’s little snow on top because it’s been an
unseasonably hot spring.

“Drink lots of water,” David reminds me.

I nod and force myself not to look at the
odometer until the next corner.

Our friends pedal with us for a few minutes of
chatter.

“If it’s cold at the top, don’t wait for us,” I
say. “Just photoshop us into the group picture.”

Off they go. Part of me wishes I hadn’t said no to
the e-bike for my 65^th birthday. I was adamant I didn’t want
one until I turn 70. I’m not quite so adamant right now.

When I see more bear scat, I run the bear rule
scenarios through my head. If it’s a grizzly, don’t look them in the eyes. They
feel it’s a challenge. If it’s a black bear, look tall, speak with confidence
and make slow movements to retreat. If it’s a momma bear of any type and I’m
between her and the cubs, kiss my ass goodbye. The visual of me kissing my ass
goodbye makes me chuckle. The bear scenario – not so much.

My
eyes peek at the odometer. 12.3 km. If I round down to 11, I have further to go
but if I round up to 13, who will pedal the extra .7 km? I chastise myself for
checking the distance again.

A group of road bikers zip past and say, “Good
job.”

I force a smile and glance at David. “Would this
really be faster if I was on a road bike?”

“Yup.”

“But this is the only time I ride on a road.”

“Yup.”

“I need a break.” I quit pedaling and coast to a
stop. “My crotch and toes are numb.”

It takes a few seconds to get the prickles out of
my foot before I can set the other one on the pavement. We both do our own
version of stretches, eat a granola bar and wash it down. Off we go again. Only
3 kilometers left and a short flat stretch ahead. I stand and pedal until the
uphill starts.

I start to count the pedal rotations to see how
many it takes to make a kilometer. But I get lost around 276. Don’t look at the
odometer. Focus on the line in the middle of the road. The hill is endless and after yet another corner, at
the top of the hill, I see a sign. I KNOW that sign.

Tiny people wave. Crank. Crank. Do it. Just do it. Don’t stop now.

And there we are, in time for the group
photo.