Driving by Night with the Moon Riding Shotgun

Jasper Station -- The Rocky Mountaineer, just in, stretches out along the platform behind the tour buses.

It was 5:30 pm when I finally pulled in to Jasper. Made my pilgrimage to the old train station where my family changed trains in 1958 when we moved from Ryley, Alberta to Terrace, BC. At 6:15, I had to tear myself away from the nostalgic exploration of this very special place -- time to hit the road.

The ever-changing mountain panoramas were lit with late light, and as I looked ahead at a stone rampart shaped like a man-made castle, I caught my breath to see a gleaming rainbow hanging directly above it.

Further along, several cars had stopped on both sides of the highway; a huge elk was grazing right beside the road. Later, a small herd of mountain sheep traversed a hillside at a leisurely pace. Dusk is a good time to see animals; there is also the risk of hitting one.

The light faded slowly, as it does in the northern summer, and I had plenty of time to enjoy the continuing parade of mountain views and the rapidly changing cloud formations. Full dark didn't come on till I passed Edson. But there I enjoyed another wonderful show.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash, and then another. An electric storm was brewing off to my left. The flashes of lightning continued for some time, but the storm didn't come any closer.

Meanwhile the round white moon rode shotgun. It hung low in the sky ahead, a lantern to light my way. In Edmonton, where I arrived at 11 with the help of my husband's faithful GPS, dear Holly had prepared a bed for me. How wonderful it felt to stretch out horizontally after fifteen hours of driving with only a handful of brief stops.

As I drifted off to sleep, I remembered the wonderful experiences of the road. I heard with my inner ear the Gypsy Kings on the car's CD player as I crossed the tiny creek labeled Fraser River, and marveled to think that small water becomes the mighty Fraser estuary by the time it reaches my coastal home.