Once we arrived at the stables at the Jasper Park Lodge, the horses were unloaded one by one. Immediately, I was put in charge of sweeping the snow off the wagons and told to put the black cushion seating pads up onto the bench seats. The pads are about four feet each and there are three per side. I did this for both wagons and then was handed a shop broom with a curled handle, in the shape of a large C, for reaching up and onto the top of the curved covered wagon. If we didn’t do this, snow would fall on the passengers when they stood too close.
After the sweeping I took a bundle of red blankets out of black garbage bags and placed them onto the black mats for customer warmth. There were about 12 of these blankets in total. I’m surprised we didn’t serve them hot chocolate or have an on-wagon barista to serve up speciality coffees from a cowboy cappuccino machine.
The horses are attached to the wagons by hooking their harnesses to the wagon’s single tree, the wood part of the wagon’s front wheel steering system for lack of a better description. This whole mechanism was attached to the front wheel axle and, through the manipulation of the reins, the horses would lead the wagon to where the driver pulled at the reins, right or left. But not up or down – the technology just isn’t there yet.
Once the horses were fully hooked up to our magnificent contraption of Christmas joy, we were off to wait in front of the rental shop for passengers to arrive for their appointments, or to show up on a whim. The wagon rides were offered two per hour, since we had two wagons. We departed at 2 p.m., 3 p.m., 4 p.m. and 5 p.m.
Each passenger was asked to pay $22, and to sign a waiver for the 40-minute ride because my father had a knack for pulling ahead when passengers were still loading. Later, when asked to do the same thing, I would pull the horses forward without checking and while passengers were loading. But I had no fear. Those waivers had already been signed.
While waiting in front of the rental shop, I was in charge of holding the horses in place and pulling them forward by their bridles. The front wagon animals had a real knack for wanting to back up all the time. Soon we filled our first wagon and I was told by my father to jump aboard and sit in on the rides for the day.
Once on board I settled in. We were on a wooden bench, covered with a black cushioned mat and red blankets for keeping warm. The wagon appeared to maintain its rustic appearance, except for one item that stood glaringly out of place. Sitting across from me, there was a red and white Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket and on it was scrawled, in big black letters, the word “TIPS.” I couldn’t help secretly thinking that people would start putting chicken bones into the bucket instead of money. To me that would seem far more accurate. The bucket was there because the rumour is my dad ate KFC for the first three nights at the ranch, and supposedly loved every second of it.
The wagon took us up along a road beside Lac Beauvert and to a roaring fire. Once there, passengers were asked to step out of the wagon, stretch their legs and warm up. During this time I took the opportunity to venture over to some bear-proof garbage cans, to discard an apple core from the apple I had just eaten. Beside the cans, on a path near the frozen lake, I notice a plaque. I wasn’t in the mood to read the plaque in its entirety so instead I looked at the few pictures it had and one of them was of Marilyn Monroe. She had visited the lodge once in her brief life. I wandered back and soon we loaded up and headed off. The family of passengers were singing Christmas carols the entire time – an extended family of around 15 including grandchildren, parents and the two grandparents, from such places as Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver.
I spent three days working on these wagon adventures. In the evenings and on my days off, I tried to catch up on some reading.
On some evenings we ventured out to local restaurants. The ones we took in were the Raven Bistro, Olive Bistro and Lounge, Fiddle River Restaurant, Jasper Park Brewing Company and Dead Dog Bar and Grill. At the Dead Dog we met up with our neighbours from Battleford. I had grown up next to the couple and, for three years, in the winter months, they have been living in Jasper and working as ski instructors at Marmot Basin. Thanks to this couple I learned a new word – polemic, a strong verbal or written attack on someone or something. And because of their refreshing generosity, we were allowed to use their names to receive 30 per cent off our lift passes at Marmot Basin.
I hadn’t been on a mountain in years, but I was excited because I had been downloading music on my iPhone. I’m used to riding by myself but this time I would have my earbuds blaring music into my ears and I knew it would add to the experience. It’s important to note I was probably the last person to own a cellphone. Someone once felt sorry for me and gifted me a hand-me-down phone somewhere around 2005. During that time in my life I also never wore a watch. Suffice it to say, having a music player cellphone at my disposal is now a huge source of appreciation for the amazing generation we live in. It also tells time. My how ages have changed, but I digress.
We were warned the mountain would be packed but I didn’t wait in line the entire day. I found some good runs and did laps of those runs for the remainder of the days. I think it’s the first time I had a genuine smile in weeks. I would definitely recommend the small mountain.
I don’t know if I learned any serious life lessons on this trip, but I had the chance to finish the 700-page book on Pickton and the opportunity to begin a new novel on the life of mathematician Paul Erdos. Supposedly, Erdos had a real thing about prime numbers. I guess the only thing really interesting was when Paul the marten flung himself into that window. The only thing I really learned is my Dad joked people from Alberta don’t like to tip very much, but we all figure, after paying to stay at the Jasper Park Lodge, not a lot of guests want to shell out $22 per person plus tips.
On our last night, my father and Leonard spent their tip money on supper at the Raven Bistro. They had a cheese and bread fondue on the menu and I convinced everyone we should order it because I’d only ever had a cheese fondue one other time in my life and it was incredible. Everyone loved it. Why wouldn’t they? You can never go wrong with a steaming pot of melted cheese.
So, for me, I don’t know if this really was a horse-drawn Christmas. I would rather it had been a cheese fondue Christmas. That was my favourite part, that and Marmot Basin. Maybe next year we can invite the marten, Paul, for a fondue and a serious run at some of the trails on his local mountain. Until then, it’s a brand new year full of brand new opportunities.
