Western Wanderlust Chronicles

Farewell to Jasper, South to Yoho

Morning came quietly in Jasper. The peaks that had loomed over us the night before now wore a delicate veil of snow, glowing faintly under the first light. The air was crisp, the kind that wakes every sense, and as we packed up camp beside the Athabasca River, a familiar mix of melancholy and excitement stirred.

It was time to turn south, leaving Jasper’s wild valleys behind and following the Icefields Parkway once more. The road unfurled ahead, cutting through a world of stone, ice, and sky that felt both endless and eternal. The peaks stood close, as if bidding us farewell, their summits gleaming under the morning light.

Our destination: Yoho National Park, just across the border in British Columbia. A new province, a new chapter, and our final stop before the long road home.

Crossing into Awe

Southbound along the Icefields Parkway, the drive felt both nostalgic and full of promise. We pulled over at Athabasca Falls, where the river thundered through a narrow quartzite canyon, the roar echoing through the evergreens. Mist rose in shimmering curtains, dampening our faces as the water crashed into the gorge below. It was a reminder of just how wild and powerful these rivers remain.

Farther along, we stopped at Waterfowl Lake, its turquoise surface glowing like liquid jade beneath a sky brushed in gray and silver. The crisp air carried the scent of pine and the sound of gentle ripples against the shore. As we ate, it was the kind of stop that makes you linger a little longer, soaking in every detail.

Not long after, the highway carried us across the provincial border, our first time in British Columbia and into Yoho National Park. The name “Yoho,” drawn from a Cree expression of awe, felt entirely fitting. Towering peaks rose sharply on every side, rushing rivers carved deep through golden valleys, and every curve of the road felt like stepping into another chapter of the Rockies.

Yoho National Park: Awe in Every Direction

Tucked just over the Alberta–British Columbia border, Yoho may be smaller than its famous neighbors, but it’s no less grand. Its name itself captures the essence of wonder—Yoho!—that involuntary sound of awe you make when confronted with something extraordinary. Beneath its peaks lie turquoise lakes, roaring waterfalls, and valleys steeped in quiet beauty. Less crowded than Banff, Yoho invites you to slow down and savor the silence between each heartbeat of the mountains.

Trains, Rivers & Rest

Our first stop was the Spiral Tunnels, an engineering marvel of the early 1900s. To overcome the steep grades of Kicking Horse Pass, rail builders curved the tracks through massive spiral tunnels carved right into the mountains. Even today, it’s mesmerizing to watch a freight train loop through—its head emerging from one tunnel while its tail disappears into another. It’s one of those rare places where human ingenuity and mountain landscapes intertwine seamlessly.

That afternoon, we settled into our campsite along the Kicking Horse River, a jade-green current rushing endlessly behind us. Across the valley, Mount Field stood tall, its slopes catching the warm tones of fall. We stood at the riverbank listening to calm rhythm of water flowing stone and autumn’s fading colors.

The Power of Water: Takakkaw Falls & Beyond

Later that day, we set out to witness Takakkaw Falls, the second-tallest waterfall in Canada at 1,224 feet (373 meters).  Even before it came into view, the roar carried across the valley. As we drew closer, the plume of spray came into view—white ribbons tumbling down a sheer cliff face, crashing into the boulder field below. Standing at the base, our jackets damp and faces cooled by mist, we felt both humbled and exhilarating in the presence of so much power.

Not far away, we stopped at the confluence of the Yoho and Kicking Horse Rivers, where two distinct waters—one pale and silty from glacial melt, the other clear and deep—merged in a swirling, hypnotic dance. It was surreal to think that the same river flowing past our campsite was part of this grand convergence. From there, we continued to the Natural Bridge, a limestone arch carved over centuries by the very river that still thundered beneath it. A quiet lesson in nature’s patience and strength.

Emerald Skies & Lakes

As late afternoon settled in, a prescribed burn turned the sky a haunting crimson. The sun glowed like an ember through drifting smoke, its reflection casting fiery streaks across the water. Ash floated gently down like snowflakes, soft and surreal. Though eerie, it was strangely beautiful a living reminder that fire, too, is part of this land’s renewal.

Our final stop was Emerald Lake, its waters shimmering in tones of turquoise and jade even beneath the hazy light. The jagged peaks of the President Range framed the scene, their outlines softened by smoke. We wandered the boardwalk tracing the shoreline, where quiet ripples tapped against the banks. It felt like a closing chapter written in jewel tones.

The Road Home

Morning came softly. I woke early to watch the sun kiss the summit of Cathedral Mountain. From our trailer window, the summit glowed in soft gold, a view so breathtaking it felt like waking inside a painting. But it was also bittersweet, the kind of beauty that signals both a beginning and an ending.

We reluctantly packed up and began the long road home. We turned south along Highway 95, passing through the small towns of Golden, Radium, and Fairmont Hot Springs, their storefronts framed by the rolling valleys of the Kootenay Rockies. The scenery felt surprisingly familiar, echoing the mountain valleys of Colorado with its rivers, jewel-toned lakes, and jagged peaks. Along the roadside, a herd of bighorn sheep basked in the warmth of morning sun, six rams clustered together, their curved horns glinting like bronze. It felt as if the Rockies themselves had gathered for a final farewell.

Eventually, the Roosville Border Crossing appeared on the horizon. Wheels turned south. Home was calling.

Reflections at the Journey’s End

Ten days. 3,400 miles. Four national parks. Two countries.

From Yellowstone’s geysers to Banff’s turquoise lakes, Jasper’s wilderness, and Yoho’s waterfalls. This trip was a tapestry of wonder stitched together by mountains, water, and sky.

It’s difficult to describe how travel lingers after the road ends. The laughter on trails, the quiet reflection by alpine lakes, the power of rivers carving through stone—all of it stays, etched in memory like lines on a map that lead back to the heart.

“Once you have traveled, the journey never ends.”

Though the wheels carried us home, Canada stayed with us in our stories, our photos, and our hearts. This adventure may have reached its end, but it doesn’t feel like closing a book, only turning a page. Because once you’ve stood beneath these peaks and breathed this wild air, you know you’ll be called back again.