We kicked off our road trip from Banff to Jasper, driving along the scenic Icefields Parkway. It was incredibly beautiful and picturesque.
Our first stop was the Peyto Lake Viewpoint at Bow Summit, the highest drivable point on the Parkway. Thanks to recent structural updates, the walk from the main car park to the Main Observation Deck was a smooth, paved, 0.4-mile uphill stroll. It takes about 10 to 15 minutes to ascend and is entirely wheelchair- and stroller-accessible.
From the spacious wooden platform, we got an elevated look at the entire lake and the vast Mistaya Valley. The lake features a unique delta formed by Caldron Creek that pinches the water into a perfect silhouette of a wolf's head, complete with ears and a snout.
The lake is named after Ebenezer William "Bill" Peyto, an eccentric 19th-century mountain guide who genuinely preferred the company of glaciers over humans. He emigrated from England to Canada in 1887 and quickly gained a reputation as one of the most capable mountain guides, trappers, and early park wardens in the Canadian Rockies.
Local legend says that once, wanting a quiet drink to himself, Wild Bill walked into a crowded Banff saloon and released a live, wild lynx he had trapped. Naturally, the terrified patrons cleared out, leaving Peyto to enjoy his beverage in absolute peace.
Peyto Lake sports an "impossible" neon-blue color that reminded me of the Pangong Lake in Ladakh. It comes from glacial rock flour—fine silt particles from the melting Peyto Glacier that suspend in the water and perfectly scatter blue-green sunlight.
We were lucky to catch it fully thawed in September. The trailhead has vault toilets but no running water or cell reception. If one wants to hike past the main deck to unpaved paths like the "Big Rock" viewpoint, taking bear spray is highly recommended.
Satiated by the views, we drove ahead to Saskatchewan River Crossing, the confluence of the North Saskatchewan, Howse, and Mistaya rivers.
This historic 19th-century trading crossroads is the only place offering basic services (gas, food, and lodging) between Lake Louise and Jasper. Because it has a monopoly on the highway, gasoline prices are routinely higher than anywhere else.
Our next major stop was the Columbia Icefield Glacier Discovery Centre, even before we reached it, we were tasting the tantalising views of the glacier.
To head out onto the Athabasca Glacier, you cannot drive your regular vehicle unless you want to slide into a crevasse and become a permanent historical exhibit.
Instead, you board a small, dusty bus that transfers you to the Ice Explorer—a legendary, massive 6-wheel-drive monster truck with low-pressure tyres, designed specifically to crunch over rocky moraines and thick ice sheets.
We can also book the "Fat Truck" (Ice Odyssey), which offers smaller, enclosed all-terrain vehicles for a more intimate group experience.
Our Ice Explorer driver was a jovial Canadian who masterfully steered the giant beast directly onto the ice. We were allowed to step off into a designated safety zone for 20 to 30 minutes to walk on ice that is hundreds of years old.
The surface was actively melting into clear streams, and we actually scooped up and drank pure, freezing-cold glacier water right off the ground.
The terrain here is a spectacular, frozen high-altitude plateau framed by an amphitheatre of towering limestone giants, including Mount Columbia (Alberta's highest point), Mount Andromeda, and Mount Kitchener.
As the Athabasca Glacier spills over three colossal bedrock steps like a slow-motion waterfall, the ice fractures into a chaotic maze of deep crevasses that glow with a luminous, compressed neon-blue hue.
Meanwhile, the lower edges showcase a stark, grey moonscape of crushed rock and moraines left behind by the receding ice.
Carving through the barren debris are freezing, milky-turquoise streams of glacial silt, which eventually feed the major river systems of western Canada.
Underneath this frozen upper world lies a hidden labyrinth: the Castleguard cave system, which stretches for over 23 kilometers through Cambrian limestone directly beneath the icefield.
After happily crunching around on the glacier, a shuttle coach took us to the Columbia Icefield Skywalk. It features a horseshoe-shaped platform with a transparent glass floor suspended at a casual 918 feet directly above the Sunwapta Valley floor. One can peer at the rushing river below and spot bighorn sheep or mountain goats navigating the sheer cliffs with far more grace than us.
Our final stop of the day was the Athabasca Falls in Jasper National Park. It isn't famous for its height, but for the absolutely terrifying, violent force of the Athabasca River crashing through a narrow quartzite gorge.
A short, paved trail led us to secure viewing platforms right over the roaring 75-foot drop. We walked down concrete stairs into a narrow, shaded rock corridor—an ancient, dry path the river cut centuries ago before changing its mind and shifting course. Beyond the bridges, the turbulent canyon waters suddenly calm down into a wide, scenic riverbed backed by Mount Kerkeslin.
We have to stay strictly behind the designated safety railings. The rocks are perpetually wet, covered in mist, and coated in slick algae. A single slip means we become one with the turbulent gorge, and no one wants to end a great road trip that way, I am sure!
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