Day 18 – Al and Ray’s Excellent Adventure: The Split
We kicked off the day at our sacred breakfast temple: The Bellagio Cafe. Ray and I both had the Ricotta french toast again because, honestly, why mess with perfection? It's basically dessert pretending to be breakfast, and we’re not mad about it.
Then, it happened. The band broke up. I headed east through British Columbia, setting my sights on the majestic Rockies: Jasper, Banff, Calgary. Then onto Minnesota, Chattanooga… eventually making my way home like a very scenic homing pigeon.
Ray stayed back in Vancouver to hang out with his son Philip. They're deciding whether to head to Reno or Edmonton—basically choosing between slot machines and snow boots.
After 17 straight days of joint adventuring, eating dinner alone felt like getting stood up by your favorite road trip buddy. (Miss you already, Ray.)
The drive from Vancouver to Sun Peaks was breathtaking—mountains everywhere, each one looking like it should be on a postcard or an inspirational poster about perseverance. I even got a killer view of Mount Garibaldi from the highway. I’m basically a five-year-old when it comes to mountains. “Ooh look! Oh my God, did you see that one!”. It would be very strange if I said all that to myself.
I checked into the Sun Peaks Grand Hotel—which, true to its name, is very grand. Canada continues to be amazing. Everyone is so nice, I’m starting to wonder if it's something in the water. (Or the maple syrup?)
Dinner was a delight. I was absolutely starving—breakfast felt like a decade ago. I started with a delicious salmon soup and then tried drum fish, which I’d never heard of. Turns out, it’s a real fish, and it was actually quite good—kind of like if salmon and snapper had a weird but tasty baby. The broccolini also came to play. And dessert? Haskap berry cheesecake. Verdict: good, but it’s no huckleberry. Or even blueberry. I won’t be writing love songs about it, but I also didn’t leave a crumb behind. If huckleberry pie ever crosses my path again, though—I'm going full raccoon on it.
The restaurant was quiet, and I had a fascinating young waitress who kept me company. We chatted about travel, local life, politics, religion, and—of course—hockey. (It's Canada. It's the law.) She's studying to be a teacher and clearly already knows how to hold a class’s attention, because I was totally captivated.
Tonight might go down in history as the earliest I’ve gone to bed on this entire trip—unless you count that one night in Coeur d'Alene when we tapped out before 10 p.m. like retired boxers.
Tomorrow, I’m off to Wells Gray Provincial Park—home to 41 waterfalls and, if things go sideways, possibly the location of my dramatic wilderness memoir. I’ve got five waterfalls on my hit list, and to reach them, there will be a lot of walking, a lot of hiking, maybe some wheezing, and probably a moment where I question all my life choices.
But don’t worry—I’ll be armed with my trusty trekking poles, my bear spray, and a healthy dose of optimism. The goal? See some epic waterfalls, avoid becoming a bear snack, and make it out of the park alive. My enthusiasm is somewhere between “Let’s do this!” and “Whose idea was this again?”
