Karma

Have you ever experienced something that made you reevaluate the way you see the world?  It happened to me recently when my wife and I took a roàd trip to the Canadian Rockies.  We visited four Canadian national parks.  For the last leg of our trip we’d be crossing back into the U.S., where we’d rendezvous with family near Glacier Park in Montana for a few days before beginning the long drive back to Wisconsin.  

My initial plan was for us to stay in Radium Hot Springs on our way out of Kooteney, our last Canadian park, but we got trapped in construction.  A lane was closed off creating an enormous traffic bottleneck.  By the time we got our bearings and were moving again we were being swept away from where the cheap hotels were and we didn’t want to fight back upstream. Change of plans.  We’d drive awhile longer and find somewhere else along the road to stay.  Then Jen got the hangries.  The sun was setting fast and it was our first time off script.  We ate cold curry chicken soup and bagels in the driveway of a campground, crossed our fingers and got back on the road.  Looking at a map, I’d hoped to find something acceptable in Skoocumchuck, BC just so I could say the name whenever we talked about the trip, but there wasn’t even a gas station there much less a hotel.  

It was completely dark by the time we made it to the town of Kimberley, British Columbia  and saw a sign for the North Star Motel.  Drawn in by twinkle lights (my wife loves them) we were hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.  Camping had been out of the question since we saw a bear within strolling distance of the campground we'd planned to stay in the night before.  My thought was that as long as we left the place with less bugs on us than we came with we would be doing just fine.  After all we were prepared to sleep in a tent on the ground.  How much worse could this be than what we were already willing to do?  I walked skeptically into the office.  

My first impression wasn’t great.  The lobby had cats, antiques and clearly doubled as the owners’ livingroom.  It may have been a Bates Motel but we had to make the best of it. Reluctantly, I asked to see a room so the owner grabbed a key and walked me down.  Our second impression wasn’t any better.  Pot smoke wafted out one room, what looked to be a bunch of day laborers that had taken over the gazebo across the gravel lot, and a small dark skinned man with a bicycle sprawled in a lounge chair outside the next unit over.  In the near dark I imagined he may have had a milk crate on the back of the bike for collecting cans he found on the side of the road. So that was the scene I took in as the owner opened the door to our penthouse.

The room was about what I expected.  The furnishings were from the early eighties with frosted glass and faux brass touch lamps on the night stands.  But the bed was neatly made and the place actually looked very clean.  Jenny came in behind me to get a look.  She was fine with it which was good because otherwise we were back on the road possibly sleeping in the car.  

Jenny went in to mix a couple of stiff drinks while I removed all of our valuables from the car and schlepped everything into our room, all the while keeping an eye on the shady characters around us.  By the time we finished unpacking the car the day laborers had gone into their room so I asked Jenny to join me in the gazebo for a nightcap.  That’s about the time things got weird.

As we approached the gazebo I was actually surprised by the condition.  There was a nice tablecloth on the table and the benches had recently been sanded and varnished.  When our eyes adjusted to the darkness we could see that the hotel grounds were tastefully landscaped and well maintained.  Maybe we’d misjudged the place. Sure, the touch lamps and the artwork were out of style but other than that the place was actually kind of nice. At least it had personality which is more than you can say for even the better chain hotels.  

We sat for a minute reassessing our first impressions when Jenny pointed toward the hotel.  “What’s that?”she asked.  Even in the dark it was obvious what she was seeing.  The trees behind the hotel were moving but there was no wind.  These were thirty to forty foot tall pine trees so no person could make them move like that.  Grizzly bear.  Now, Jennifer has a very active imagination but I’d seen the trees move with my own eyes and came to the same conclusion.  There was a large bear behind our hotel probably scratching it's back on a tree.

We walked quickly back toward our room but Jenny pointed to a group of people at the far end of the hotel.  They had kids.  Shouldn’t we warn them?  Of course. . . So I walked down and told them what we saw.  One of the people said that there was a  corral and stables behind the motel so it was probably horses rocking the trees.  Besides, if there was a bear nearby the horses would have been agitated and they would have heard the noises.

Relieved that there wasn’t a marauding grizzly wandering the motel grounds, I began walking back toward our room when I noticed  the bikes.  Several of them and fully accessorised like the ones we’d seen throughout the Canadian national parks.  That’s when it hit me.  Our neighbors weren’t day laborers, they had been touring the parks by bicycle. The road between Banff and Jasper is called the Icefields Parkway and it is one of the most beautiful drives in North America.  

We introduced ourselves to one of the riders and he told us that he and his friends were from Mumbai, India.  They were riding from Edmonton to Vancouver. By the time we met up with them they’d already completed the most challenging part of their ride.  Jenny and I were exhausted just driving those mountain roads.  It was humbling to think that they’d covered the same territory on bicycles.  I asked if I could take a closer look at their bikes and that’s when I noticed that several of them were Treks.  I told them that we were from Wisconsin, the home of two of the world’s great cycling brands:  Harley-Davidson and Trek.  “Waterloo! Said our new friend, Nihar, who knew the name of the town where Trek is headquartered.  Slowly the other riders came around and introduced themselves.  Nihar described how hard it was to get the necessary equipment in India to train for the ride and shared the nightmare of having his prized Trek stolen outside of Edmonton just days into their . . . trek.  He replaced his beloved Trek with a new Trek and they were back on the road.  

The next morning we spoke to the group again before they headed out for Cranbrook, BC.  My wife talked with the only woman on the trip, Geeta, who was on her first major bike challenge at age 46.  I also spoke again with Chetan,  the man who I’d so badly misread the night before.  He didn’t have a milk crate on the back of his bike for collecting cans, but he did have one hell of a story.  Despite quintuple heart bypass surgery, a brain tumor, and reconstructive knee surgery he had somehow managed to pedal his bicycle over the highest paved road in the Himalayas.  He shared a link to an article profiling him in a Mumbai newspaper.  “Cycling to the Top (Almost) of the World,” was the title.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.  My wife snapped a few pictures before they left.  I didn’t bother to tell them about my first impressions.  Would you?  Just before they got on their bikes to leave I asked Nihar if it was okay for me to share their story.  These guys (and Geeta!) were extraordinary goodwill ambassadors for their country, inspirational athletes, and incredibly effective spokespeople for Trek without even trying.  He said yes, of course I could share their tale.  So I”m following through with my pledge. It’s the least I can do in return for them  teaching me not to be too quick to judge.

In the interest of good karma I think these riders should be rewarded for being such excellent spokespersons for the Trek brand.  Anything you see fit to send them would be greatly appreciated.  I’d send them something myself but I’m broke right now - a good vacation can do that.  Anyway, I’d like to tell you more about how these riders inspired me but I’ve gotta go.  I promised myself I’d get a few miles in on my own Trek before the rain starts.  

John Hagen
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

P.s. For what it’s worth I was wrong about the hotel too:-)!

 Mark Twain: "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness."