This story is Part 1 of our crossâCanada road trip miniâseries. Think of it like buckling into the van with us. Youâll ride shotgun as we chase lakes, dodge rain clouds, meet strangers, and figure out how to make August nights at 6°C feel survivable. Over the next parts weâll take you through the Rockies, the Prairies (aka Prairie Purgatory), and finally Ontario and Quebec, with all the Lebanese flair and humor youâve come to expect from Yalla, bye.
Weâd been hyping this trip for three months. Work had been brutal. Back-to-back meetings, deadlines stacked like kaak at a Beirut bakery, and both of us knew: we needed out. Nature was prescribed. This was no weekend escape. This was the big one: Seattle to Montreal, cross-country, but this time on the Canadian side of the border. Every night was plotted at a national or provincial park, every stop carefully pinned on the map, and every campground booked months in advance. The grand design? Lakes. Always lakes. The idea was to battle August heat with swims, SUPs, and kayak dips - Louie cooling his paws in the water while we pretended to be semi-pro paddlers. That was the plan. Ya zalameh, we were dreaming of summer sweat and dips in cold water. Instead, Canada said: âWelcome, habibi. Hereâs 6°C nights and a cold bubble that will chase you for two weeksâ.
Paul Lake Provincial Park (BC)
The soft launch (Seattle â Paul Lake)
Departure day always comes with a mix of anxiety and excitement. We packed the van, double-triple-quadruple checked everything (including my mental stability), gave our home one last loving look, and hit the road around 11am. Border crossing? Smooth. Though for the first time ever, the agent asked for Louieâs rabies certificate. Luckily, I had it stored like a true Lebanese mom packs zaâatar: always ready.
First stop? A patriotic combo: Tim Hortons (for caffeine) and Costco (for 4 kilos of hummus we absolutely didnât need).
Paul Lake Campground was a dream for a first night. Site 62, slightly elevated and quiet.
We hiked down to the lake, let Louie off leash (after some gentle marital negotiations), and soaked in that first evening in nature. No showers, but the silence made up for it. Even the deer waved goodbye the next morning. Well, kinda. Louie didnât even notice. Classic.
Emerald Lake (Yoho National Park)
Tourists in the lot, silence on the Trail (Paul Lake, BC â Emerald Lake, BC)
Day two brought Revelstoke eggs and sourdough bread (delicious), then the stunner: Emerald Lake. Parking lot? Absolute mayhem. Buses, picnics, selfie sticks. Trail? Empty. We realized Canadian National Parks obey a strange physics: 90% of humans orbit the visitor center, while 10 minutes into the trail youâre suddenly alone. We looped the lake, admired its surreal turquoise, and whispered a new family motto: âWalk 15 minutes away from the lodge and you own the placeâ.
Bow Lake (Banff National Park)
The paparazzi paddle
Spoiler: we didnât paddle Lake Louise. We didnât even see it. The parking lot was full by 9 am, and taking a shuttle felt like a betrayal to van life.
So we pivoted north: Bow Lake. Epic.
At first, Bow Lake was serene, then, out of nowhere, busloads of tourists appeared like a flash mob of pastel North Face jackets. But again, the water was empty. So we paddled. As we inflated the kayak and SUP, we became BeyoncĂŠ and JayâZ on a yacht - minus the yacht, plus 200 tourists with selfie sticks. Louie onboard, me paddling like a champ, AlizĂŠe laughing - while 200 tourists filmed us from shore like paparazzi (no joke, check out the video below!). They watched us like zoo animals. One guy might have live-streamed us to his aunt in Shanghai. Hahaha. The joke was on them: out on the lake, it was pure magic. Glacial turquoise, mountain mirrors, total silence.
Pro tip: glacier lakes are best before 11 am. Wind naps in the morning, wakes up angry by lunch.
Waterfowl & Peyto Lakes
Chocolate and serendipity
Next up: Waterfowl Lake. Gorgeous picnic spot. We found a tucked-away nook at the southern tip where we made coffee and devoured chocolate like it was our birthright.
Then: Peyto Lake hike. Beautiful and, once again, empty beyond 15 minutes from the lot. Lesson: tourists donât hike, they hover.
Next to us at the parking lot of Peyto lake: a Sprinter rig with French license plates. Of course we had to say hi. Mireille and Thierry, retired, touring the Americas for 18 months. Legends. We invited them to dinner at our Lake Louise campsite: they made pasta, we added salad, sourdough, and Gruyère (the holy trinity). Stories stretched past 11 p.m. Instant friends. This, we agreed, is the secret sauce of road trips: the people.
Jasper National Park
Fire aftermath and Elon (not that one)
The next morning we hit the road for Jasper. First, we had breakfast by a creek. Eggs on sourdough. The kind of meal that makes you say, "why don't we live like this all the time?"
Then: hiked Wilcox Pass. Offered to take a photo for a German couple (because weâre not monsters), and they offered us a smile in return (and a photo đ).
On the way north, we did the waterfall rounds (Sunwapta and Athabasca). AlizĂŠe confessed she finds waterfalls stressful: âThey feel like slow-motion drowning.â Fair.
The real gut punch was Jasperâs burn scar. Kilometers of dead trees, a whole valley erased. Sobering. I asked a ranger about last yearâs wildfire - she got emotional. We rolled into camp heavy-hearted. But then came Elon, from South Africa. Not Musk. This Elon was the anti-Musk: cheerful, curious, gushing over our van, insisting proudly he drives below the speed limit. May we all channel Jasper Elon (unfortunately, I forgot to ask for a picture with himâŚ)
Maligne Lake (Jasper National Park)
Deer or mafia enforcer?
We hiked Upper Moose Loop at Maligne Lake. No moose. Instead, one deer. A very serious deer.
It blocked our path, trailed us, got within two meters, and stared like it was collecting debts. Louie growled, I stomped and shouted, AlizĂŠe while calm at first started getting nervous (check out the video below!). Ten minutes of standoff before it backed off. I told AlizĂŠe: good practice for bears. She rolled her eyes, dripping wet from the rain that soaked us on the last stretch.
Pro tip: practice your âbear encounter protocolâ on angry deer. Itâs a free simulation.
On the way back to camp we stopped for a quick hike at Talbot Lake Viewpoint. The views were epic to say the least, with the highway splitting Jasper and Talbot lakes right in the middle.
Later that night, I wandered over to a French family across from our camp site who was road-tripping in a Rubicon with two rooftop tents: three grown kids and their mom, moving around camp like a perfectly choreographed unit. I struck up a conversation with the eldest, Antonin, who had organized the entire twoâweek adventure for his family. He was kind and thoughtful. Watching them cook, organize, and laugh together felt like a scene straight out of a French movie.
Honestly, they reminded me of the Kretz family from The Parisian Agency: stylish, capable, and somehow making overlanding look chic. Antonin mentioned that they spotted a grizzly earlier that day, without bear spray. Bravery, or madness? Either way, it made our deer story feel like kindergarten đ
Planning jewels (save these!)
On the way to Banff, donât forget Yoho National Park and Emerald Lake.
Skip Lake Louiseâs shuttle; Bow, Waterfowl, and Peyto are better and freer.
Glacier lakes? Paddle before 11 am. Afternoons = wind gym.
Walk 15 minutes past the lookout and the crowds vanish.
Deer can be jerks. Bear spray isnât just for bears. Never leave it behind you.
Closing wink
By the end of week one, the âcold bubbleâ had earned its place as our fourth travel companion. Nights in August at 6°C?! Louie, wrapped like a shawarma, was secretly grateful. Us? Shivering but stubborn. Still, between Bow Lake paparazzi, Gruyère-fueled dinners, and the magic of meeting strangers, the Rockies had worked their spell. The bubble hadnât won yet.
Next up: the Prairies. Saskatchewan and Manitoba (aka Prairie Purgatory, hahaha). Or as AlizĂŠe and I started calling it: the part weâd teleport over if we could. Stay tuned for part 2.
Yalla, bye! âď¸