When Jake and I left Jasper we told few people. Why? We were afraid we wouldn’t make it past the traffic lights at the end of town…What if we broke our ankles on Day 6? What if Jake and I fought on Day 12 and refused to speak again to each other? What if we just didn’t like it? What if…? We had never done anything like this before and so we had no idea what would happen. And if no-one had any expectations, it wouldn’t matter if we only made it to the traffic lights. We could just sneak back into town and none would be the wiser.

The further South we went, the more and more people became interested in our adventure. It always amazed me how many people cared and wanted to hear our stories. We have received many kind comments/emails and received a massive amount of support. THANK YOU EVERYONE! Here are some people we would like to specially mention:

David Harrap (Dad), Nancy Taylor (Mum), Mike Alleyne (Dad), Janet Gulbransen, Rebecca Conti (Sister), The Alpine Club of Canada, Marilynn Gulbransen, Steph and Pete Robinson, The Waxers, Allie Strel, Mike Mcmillan,  the employees at Anderson Dorn & Rader Ltd, Elizabeth Harrap, Jill Seaton, Doreen Lennie, Debbie Goodridge Quinn, Nicole Caron, Rick and Sarah Strel, Greg Van Tighem, Dr. Mark Mahler at Jasper Dental Clinic, The Dorks (Park/Dolan Family), Jasper Elementary School, Carmen and Jeff Alleyne (Nanny and Granddad), The Monettes, and Jim Alary.

Also, for those interested here are some links to our adventure in the media. Gulp!
http://globalnews.ca/video/1752892/former-ubc-students-hike-5500km-to-mexico/

http://www.cbc.ca/player/News/Canada/BC/ID/2645632749/ (8:30 minute marker)

http://www.vancouversun.com/touch/story.html?id=10691584

http://www.thejasperlocal.com/and-they-would-walk-5000-km.html

http://www.thejasperlocal.com/the-world-at-their-feet.html

http://www.fitzhugh.ca/jasperites-conquer-the-great-divide/

After awhile you become quite attached to your backpack. Like a turtle and his shell, it becomes your home and a dear ol’friend. During this trip, we have had many different sizes of backpacks. When we left Jasper, our bags were 100 pounds. Some days they went down to 20 (not often enough though). The following is the story of our backpack.

For our food drops during the ski section, we attached a sled to our backpacks making manuevering around little more difficult...

We even had to ford creeks with the blasted sled!

We have to go how far with this ball and chain? Can't we just fly instead? No? Sigh.

Trying to get up on Day 2.

Still trying...

Third time the charm!

Being large and in charge, made things difficult. ..However, you never have to worry about someone stealing your backpack, I mean who would steal 100 pounds? Even if they did it might actually be reliving. And when you're the same size as a bear, no need to fret about them as well

Are we there yet?

Bit by bit the backpack got smaller. I think we are at 70 pounds here! Yay!

Nothing like desert walking with snow shoes.

Most days are spent hiking from dark to dark. We don’t usually have much time for anything else other than walking.  Except thinking – we may even have too much for that. Somedays my mind drifts to the following short article written by a fellow mountain man – Rick Collier. He was one of the most accomplished Canadian mountaineers and climbed all the mountains along the Great Divide from the USA border to Saskatchewan Crossing in Canada. In total he climbed over 1350 summits. He was killed in climbing accident near Jasper two ago at the age of 71. Like Rick, I also struggle with organized sports, preferring to slog and bushwack my way up a mountain slope or survival ski down a glacier. I seem to enjoy suffering or at least always find myself seeking it out.

Early on I realized that tennis, baseball, or any sport requiring the careful management of a spheroid was beyond my capabilities; indeed, most activities demanding agility and coordination were best left for more competent others.  However, I was exceptional at something quite different — suffering.  Give me sweating, gut-it-out, muscle-aching recreations and I excelled – long-distance running, cycle touring, multi-day ski trips, mountain climbing.  By age twenty I understood that this was not merely some S&M neurosis:  bushwhacking through a remote valley or hauling my carcass up the rubble and cliffs of yet another unremarkable summit was transfiguring; I was clawing myself out of the boxes that imprison us all – education, job, debt, responsibility, others’ expectations – I could breathe and smell and taste exquisitely, and, for a time, “see into the life of things.”

That passion has embraced me now for fifty years, inspiring me through untold kilometers of running, cycling, hiking, and skiing and up more than 1200 peaks.  I still lack the finesse to lead 5.12 rock or dry-tool my way to a detached icicle; more important now are the hoary marmots, the golden glacier lilies, the rolling, intricate alplands, the tangled crags, the brilliant snowfields, and the eagle soaring in the azure skies.

What luck it is that I still have “world enough and time” for new adventures and new explorations – for the secret valley and the curious grizzly, for the unnamed lake and the hidden couloir, and for the many still unclimbed mountains of the Rockies. – written by Rick Collier

Bush whacking along the Wood River (BC) in May. It was thick, steep, and really slow going. At the end of the day, I had a whole pine tree down my snow pants.