From the Field: Ben Johnson Heads to the Bikepack Canada Summit

From the Field: Ben Johnson Heads to the Bikepack Canada Summit

Posted on by Linnaea Kershaw

From the Field: Ben Johnson Heads to the Bikepack Canada Summit

Words and photos: Ben Johnson

 

 

 

 

 

 

It felt as if I was in a snow globe. Large snowflakes started to slowly fall as the early morning light began to play across the towering mountains around me. There wasn’t a car in sight. It brought me back to childhood memories of me and my brothers sprinting up and down these mountains without a care in the world. I felt just as at ease with nothing but an empty road before me - an epic landscape and a bike loaded with the bare essentials. It was perfect.

 


 

Earlier this year I connected with Sarah Hornby. Her love for bike adventure is infectious, as is her affinity for the Rockies. As she recounted stories, I couldn’t help but picture myself biking through the land I had once called home, but had explored so little. She invited me to show my film Admissions of an Amateur Bikepacker and speak at the 2019 Bikepack Canada Summit. I had never attended a Summit before, and I leapt at the opportunity.

 

The Bikepack Canada Summit takes place in Canmore, Alberta - the gateway to the Rocky Mountains. The Summit is a gathering place where cyclists of varying levels of experience come to learn and share everything there is to do with bike travel. The group also embarks on a local overnighter, as well as daily rides.

 

Throughout our time together, we learned about pack rafting, taking care of yourself in the backcountry and packing your bike. The practical nuggets of wisdom were awesome, but the biggest takeaways for me were the lessons I learned beyond the bike. I learned about the power of bike travel to mend a broken relationship as Katrina relayed her ride around the world with her husband Mike. I learned about the importance of reexamining my goals from Janie who was becoming a serious contender in the bike endurance racing and decided to drop out of the Great Divide. As a storyteller, filmmaker and photographer, these lessons inspired me to search for the deeper stories that underlie what - on the surface - may seem like another epic bike adventure.

 

 

 

With the summit still echoing in my mind, I took a few days to ride a part of the Icefields Parkway, which connects Banff and Jasper. Although it was more tarmac than I am used to, I found many reasons to be beyond stoked with my first bikepack in the Rockies.

 

                

The raw beauty of Banff National Park is off-the-charts. As the Italian motorcyclist I met on the side of the road said, “I have ridden this bike in 23 countries and this is simply stunning”. It’s tough to argue with the man when you’re staring at mountain-lined roads that dart in and out of view for what seems like eternity.

 

                

                

 

Dotted along the route were several hostels. These humble accommodations felt like the Four Seasons when the nights dipped well below 0 degrees Celsius. The mornings were brisk, but they were easily the best time to be riding with little to no traffic. These times were special, especially when riding solo; all I heard was the environment and my pedal strokes. As the snow continued to fall, I was reminded of just how small I am, and how fortunate I was to ride in a bike in a place like this. I felt as if I was chasing a rainbow; turn after turn was a new chiseled peak taunting me to ride further. Each one had me hooked.

 

 

Words and photos: Ben Johnson

 

 

 

 

 

 

It felt as if I was in a snow globe. Large snowflakes started to slowly fall as the early morning light began to play across the towering mountains around me. There wasn’t a car in sight. It brought me back to childhood memories of me and my brothers sprinting up and down these mountains without a care in the world. I felt just as at ease with nothing but an empty road before me - an epic landscape and a bike loaded with the bare essentials. It was perfect.

 


 

Earlier this year I connected with Sarah Hornby. Her love for bike adventure is infectious, as is her affinity for the Rockies. As she recounted stories, I couldn’t help but picture myself biking through the land I had once called home, but had explored so little. She invited me to show my film Admissions of an Amateur Bikepacker and speak at the 2019 Bikepack Canada Summit. I had never attended a Summit before, and I leapt at the opportunity.

 

The Bikepack Canada Summit takes place in Canmore, Alberta - the gateway to the Rocky Mountains. The Summit is a gathering place where cyclists of varying levels of experience come to learn and share everything there is to do with bike travel. The group also embarks on a local overnighter, as well as daily rides.

 

Throughout our time together, we learned about pack rafting, taking care of yourself in the backcountry and packing your bike. The practical nuggets of wisdom were awesome, but the biggest takeaways for me were the lessons I learned beyond the bike. I learned about the power of bike travel to mend a broken relationship as Katrina relayed her ride around the world with her husband Mike. I learned about the importance of reexamining my goals from Janie who was becoming a serious contender in the bike endurance racing and decided to drop out of the Great Divide. As a storyteller, filmmaker and photographer, these lessons inspired me to search for the deeper stories that underlie what - on the surface - may seem like another epic bike adventure.

 

 

 

With the summit still echoing in my mind, I took a few days to ride a part of the Icefields Parkway, which connects Banff and Jasper. Although it was more tarmac than I am used to, I found many reasons to be beyond stoked with my first bikepack in the Rockies.

 

                

The raw beauty of Banff National Park is off-the-charts. As the Italian motorcyclist I met on the side of the road said, “I have ridden this bike in 23 countries and this is simply stunning”. It’s tough to argue with the man when you’re staring at mountain-lined roads that dart in and out of view for what seems like eternity.

 

                

                

 

Dotted along the route were several hostels. These humble accommodations felt like the Four Seasons when the nights dipped well below 0 degrees Celsius. The mornings were brisk, but they were easily the best time to be riding with little to no traffic. These times were special, especially when riding solo; all I heard was the environment and my pedal strokes. As the snow continued to fall, I was reminded of just how small I am, and how fortunate I was to ride in a bike in a place like this. I felt as if I was chasing a rainbow; turn after turn was a new chiseled peak taunting me to ride further. Each one had me hooked.