Our day started fantastically. We broke camp where we were just outside of Banff. We saw three elk males hanging out together in the early morning. One was trying to spar with the others. We left the majestic mountains of Alberta and entered Calgary to refresh our supplies. I told my wife that we had no stops in Calgary besides a Walmart. I drove to one of the giant glacial erratics in honour of our first erratic experience. We then visited a dude ranch. Our final highlight before our next campground was some pronghorns in a field. Then, finally, we settled into our campsite, Writing-On-The-Stone Provincial Park. Our evening would end as radically as the environment we were in. The morning, we were in the midst of mountains where we had to deal with rain for two weeks. Now, we are in the arid, flat plains.
I had been waiting to arrive here. One of the main features of our trip to Alaska and back was that we would travel through different environments and geography. This morning was mountains, and this evening was dry plains. Our trip was designed to see as many Canadian and American climates as possible.
In my planning, I chose a campsite that was as close to the river as possible. That didn’t work out since the site was farther than expected. Plus, there was a fence blocking access to the river. I was a bit disappointed, but we were here, and I could not wait to show Charlene why we were here.
The tent was set. The inside was ready for us when we returned. We skipped supper so we could see the hoodoos that we passed. Our gear was damp from the rain we had faced for the past couple of weeks, so when Charlene asked if she should close the windows on the tent, I said no, let it dry out.
We walked to the hoodoos and enjoyed exploring the features. My concern was for rattlesnakes. Having a fear of snakes, I figured there was at least one near me at all times, but we saw none. Not seeing any snakes would be a disappointment for us on our six-week trip. We saw so many animals, but never a single snake, let alone a rattler. We still have mixed emotions about this to this day.
The hoodoos were incredible to explore. They were easy to climb, where we both noticed a storm brewing in the distance. Cell reception was minimal. At the campsite, there was none. I checked the weather map, and the radar showed it would pass near but not over us. So we continued to play in the hoodoos.
The winds were picking up, and the sky kept getting darker. We climbed a hill to get a better view of the coming storm and marvelled at its size. Again, I checked my phone, and it said it was missing us. Assured, we watched it approach.
The winds kept rising, and we decided to return to the camp. We stopped for more pictures and videos and were having a blast.
That changed. Halfway to the campsite, we started to get rain. Not much, but enough that we wanted to hurry. Winds were now faster. I no longer had cell reception, so I could no longer see what the radar was saying, but I could tell the storm that we were confident would miss us did not. We were about to be hit with its full strength.
Hard!
Winds whipped the trees and picked up the sand. We got to our tent only to find that it had collapsed. Our neighbours came out and said they did not know what to do when they saw it collapse. I assured them it was okay, and we removed the poles before they ripped themselves apart or the tent.
Then the skies opened up.
We ran into our car and watched the heaviest storm we had ever experienced drown our site. Our tent was pegged securely to the ground but flapped like a clumsy flag. I wished I had the windows closed because I could see water gathering in and around the tent. Our shelter was crumpled and soaked.
Like most intense storms from where we live, it was short. The sun would shine. We got out of the car and surveyed the damage. Branches had broken in the other sites. The water that gathered was already mostly drained away. The site across from us and our own were the only ones that were devastated, with their tent disappearing in the wind. The campsite I had picked so carefully was at a geographical funnel for this storm. The winds flowed down the river valley and hit our shelter directly.
We decided to drive to the hoodoos and try our cell service. The storm raged beyond us and must have interfered with the reception because I could get nothing. We decided to find a hotel.
We packed up our gear. Blankets and sheets were wet, along with the mattress. We assumed that our clothing was also soaked and tomorrow was going to be a big laundry day. Our neighbours saw us getting ready to leave, and they came over to offer us a hand. It was nice speaking to them; it did soften the blow of missing out on this great destination. We were not going to be able to do any of the other stuff Writing-On-The-Stones Provincial Park had to offer.
This is where I felt regret, not because we were hit by a storm that likely damaged our tent or missed out on the other features of this Albertan Provincial Park, but rather because I didn’t fill the car with fuel. It was getting late, and I didn’t even take the time to find a station wanting to see as much of the park before it got dark. I regretted this decision because the roads we took were not soft from the downpour, and it was eating up the fuel far quicker than I wanted. We would finally find some cell service, and every gas station near us was closed for the night.
Pressing forward, constantly consulting my Google Maps, I found a 24-hour centre and headed toward it. I rounded a bend, and to my surprise, we were at the Montana border. I had turned my map around so much that I became confused at the direction we were headed.
We told the border guard that we were escaping the storm that hit, that it destroyed our tent, and that we were seeking a hotel. My hotel app showed one near the location where we were. He let us through with little issue, and finally found a gas station, a hotel, and a laundromat for the morning.
Bringing in our stuff, we discovered not one article was wet despite the inches of water inside the tent. A new regret filled me: did we really need to flee?
Of all our adventures, this was the first time we had a disaster. I would be able to fix the poles, and there was only the slightest of holes in the rain shield. Considering the ferocity of the storm, our tent managed really well.
Tomorrow would be an even greater disaster!
An expensive one.
- Writing-On-The-Stone Provincial Park is a great place full of history and geology. Our experience there does not reflect a typical experience, and we intend to return to this site the next time we head west.
- To find this location and all the others that we have visited, check out my Featured Map.
- Lesson learned: Keep the tank full and don’t run out to save time. I regretted this, and it added to the stress of the entire situation.
- Even though we suffered a disaster, we do look back at this fondly because of the experience. After all, isn’t travel for the experience of where we are going?
