The flights went well and I even got to watch them load my bike on the plane through the very small baggage door.
In Calgary, I was afraid I wouldn't recognize Jamie with all her hair cut off. I figured her boxed bike would give her away, but when she came through, no bike. United put it on the wrong flight, but sent it via courier to Banff at around 1:00 am. Roger arrived like a premature baby and shot out of the shoot in record time, which meant we almost walked by him at Tim Horton's. I recognized him because he had a boxed bike.
The shuttle to Banff traveled through the extensive flood damage between Calgary and Banff. The municipalities scrambled pretty fast to put things back together quickly and in some cases did a quick, but nice landscaping job.
Banff was around 90 degrees and the inside of the Y never cooled down, leaving us to swelter at night. We stowed the bikes, went into town, ate dinner and went for a walk.
The Bow river had reeked havoc in Banff and was still flowing extremely high. Falls were not falls, but sluices and giant rapids still were tearing at the banks.
We got to see the Banff Hot Springs hotel, which reminds me of some Bavarian castle, high above us.
John came in around 12 am and everyone crashed as best they could in the heat.
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