Chefprefers BLOG

When I first arrived in Australia, I lived in New South Wales. My first impression? NSW looked like someone had spilled a giant bucket of brown paint over the countryside. Endless gum trees, dry land, and enough empty space to make you wonder if civilisation had packed up and moved.

I drove across the border from Victoria into NSW, and suddenly the smooth sealed highway turned into a dirt road. The sign proudly welcomed me: “Welcome to NSW!” It was a brutally honest introduction. Apparently, the states had different priorities. Victoria built roads. NSW said, “Here’s some dust, good luck.”

I got the same feeling crossing from British Columbia into Alberta. We had driven through Kootenay National Park and crossed the Continental Divide. At the border stood a big wooden sign marking the line between BC and Alberta. The classic tourist photo involved putting one foot in each province.

The only problem? The sign looked like it had been installed when my grandmother was flirting with school boys. The wood was cracked, faded, and falling apart, yet every minute someone was standing there taking the exact same photo. I guess BC and Alberta are still arguing over who has to replace it. Nothing brings politicians together like a shared refusal to pay for a new sign.

At least the road improved. We went from a single lane to a double lane.

Progress!

Our first stop in Alberta was Lake Louise. We stayed at the ParksCanada campground, about 2 km from the village. It was beautiful, peaceful, and surrounded by nature.

Then came the train.

The TransCanada railway runs straight through the area, and apparently the Canada Pacifica’s trains are not interested in being subtle. These cargo trains can stretch up to 150 carriages long. When I lived in the US, I used to count the cars as they went by at crossings. It was strangely entertaining.

But there is a big difference between watching a train pass during the day and having one announce its arrival at midnight. Then
1:00am.
1:45am. And so on

And because there was a road crossing about 50 metres from our van, the train driver had to blast the horn five times every single time.

By the third night, I wasn’t sure if I was camping in the Rockies or sleeping next to a railway concert.

Sleep became less of a guarantee and more of a lucky bonus.

Now, I started getting the feeling that something wasn’t quite right about Lake Louise. Not because it wasn’t beautiful. It was almost too beautiful. The turquoise water sits beneath glaciers, surrounded by forests and mountains that look like they were designed for a postcard.

At the Northern end sits the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, looking out over the lake, glaciers, and snowy peaks.

The funny thing is, Lake Louise looks like the ultimate peaceful wilderness escape, but thousands of people arrive every day by car, bus, and that very loud train also known as the famous ‘Rocky Mountaineer’ to find a “quiet moment.”

Parking is limited, so visitors take shuttles from the Lake Louise ski resort where there is plenty of parking to Lake Louise or Moraine Lake. Both are stunning.

Our shuttle driver kept reminding everyone about the last bus at 7pm. She also made sure we understood that if we missed it and didn’t want to walk 15 km back to town, there was always the Fairmont.

“For around $13,000 a night,” she said.

I swear she enjoyed telling that part.

Meanwhile, some poor billionaire was paying thousands to sleep beside the lake, while I was happily paying $35 for my campsite and getting a free midnight train performance.

I started wondering if the Fairmont secretly pays the train company to blow the horn more often.

After all, nothing says luxury like waking up at 1:45am and thinking, “Maybe I should have booked the $13,000 room.”

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