Wednesday: July 14, 1999

Weather wise, our worst day of the trip. Rain and haze plagued us the entire way to Jasper. We stopped, but never saw Mt. Robson, the highest point in the Canadian Rockies.

At last, Jasper! Unfortunately, we were greeted at the entrance by a French Canadian gal who was definitely sportin' a 'tude. She (like so many French Canadians) needed an attitude adjustment. I'm sure the slight language difficulty we encountered did not influence her decision to hand us a French version of the park literature packet. Likewise, when we requested an English version, I'm quite certain her audible snarls and mutterings were the result of alergies. And those pamphlets that were flung so forcefully into our van? I'm afraid that I must get on my soapbox for a moment. While Canada has the most magnificant scenery I have ever seen, its self righteous French citizens are as mean spirited as they come. A few manners would serve them well. How can they expect anyone to be even remotely sympathetic to their cause when they deliberately insult all who cross their path.

On a brighter note, we saw the first of what came to be a commonplace sight, a black bear.

The air was cold, the diner was awful (NEVER! NEVER! order Italian food in Canada) and we went to bed. Mom and Dad hated what they referred to as their honeymoon cottage. Steve and I had no complaints about our log duplex (at least until the toilet became plugged), but Nathan was less than pleased with his sofa bed.

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