Bikepacking in Canada: Our First Experience on the Great Divide
Canada—that’s where it all began… with two bikes left behind in Paris! In June 2024, we landed in Calgary to begin our cross-continental bike trip through the Americas, then headed to Banff and the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, the long gravel trail that winds all the way down to Mexico. A few weeks later, we crossed the U.S. border, having already experienced our first scares with bears, our first tears, and our first great travel friendships.
In the podcast, we told Jean-Mi all about it right after it happened. Here, I’m looking back on those first few weeks with a little more perspective, and I’ll give you everything you need to know to bike through Canada: the route, the stops along the way, bears, where to stay, and the mistakes to avoid.
In a nutshell
- When: June 2024, right at the start of our trip, just the two of us.
- The route: from Calgary to Banff via Cochrane and the Stoney Nakoda Reservation, then along the Great Divide from Banff to Eureka, Montana.
- The route: 564 km, 7,055 m of elevation gain, and nearly 45 hours in the saddle—including transfers—spread over 7 stages, including 2 days from Calgary to Banff and 5 days on the Canadian section of the Great Divide (391 km), through the Rocky Mountains.
- Terrain: There is a vertical elevation gain of about 1,000 m every 50 km, with gradients of up to 15%.
- Bears: We came across several, including a grizzly and a black bear just five meters away. Bear spray is mandatory!
- Accommodations: Campgrounds, which are often expensive (about $30); self-service campgrounds where you pay by leaving money in a box; and Warmshowers hosts.
Our Cycling Trip in Canada
- Calgary → Cochrane → the Stoney Nakoda Reservation → Stoney Park Campground, via the city’s bike paths and then back roads to avoid Highway 1: 78 km and 1,017 m of elevation gain, a little over 6 hours in the saddle.
- Stoney Park Campground → Canmore → Banff, the official starting point of the Great Divide: 73 km and 976 m of elevation gain, just over 6 hours.
- Banff → Pocaterra → Boulton Creek, in Kananaskis Provincial Park.
- Boulton Creek → Elkford via Elk Pass, in British Columbia.
- Elkford → Fernie, via two different routes: the Koko Claims—a grueling climb for Julien—and the road and a hiking trail for me.
- Fernie → Eureka, the border, and Montana.
| Day | Step | km | D+ | Weather |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Calgary → Stoney Park Campground | 78 km | 1,017 m | 6:07 a.m. |
| 2 | Stoney Park Campground → Banff | 73 km | 976 m | 6:10 a.m. |
| On the Great Divide | ||||
| 3 | Banff → Pocaterra Campground | 85 km | 1,094 m | 6:45 a.m. |
| 4 | Pocaterra → Boulton Creek Campground | 22 km | 320 m | 1 hour and 34 minutes |
| 5 | Boulton Creek → Elkford | 82 km | 883 m | 5:39 a.m. |
| 6 | Elkford → Fernie via Koko Claims (Julien's Route) | 105 km | 1,752 m | 10:01 a.m. |
| 7 | Fernie → Eureka | 97 km | 806 m | 6:36 a.m. |
| Great Divide, Canadian Section | 391 km | 4,855 m | 30:34 | |
| – | Shuttles to Banff and Fernie | 21 km | 207 m | 1 hour 41 minutes |
| Total in Canada, including commutes | 564 km | 7,055 m | 44h32 |
The times listed are riding times, not including breaks, and "commutes" refer to our short trips around town on our days off.
All our routes are on the Route & Stats page, under the “Banff > Sargents” section, and details for each day are on Julien’s Strava profile.
What is the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route?
This is the most famous bikepacking route in North America: approximately 4,340 km from Banff, Canada, to Antelope Wells on the Mexican border, following the Pacific-Atlantic divide—hence its name (bikepacking.com). The route consists mainly of forest trails and dirt roads, far from cities.
It’s also the setting for the Tour Divide, a self-supported race that starts in Banff every year on the second Friday in June. In 2024, the riders set off the day before we landed in Calgary. Their bikes weigh about 20 kilograms; ours weigh at least 45 to 50 kg. And some of them had already finished by the time we were still struggling through the Rockies!
On the map, the Canadian section is the shortest. In terms of physical exertion, it’s one of the toughest: the trail crosses the Rockies, with one mountain pass after another and an almost constant view of the snow-capped peaks. Julien, of course, chose the most difficult routes.
Our Experiences in Canada
The Big Departure, Without the Bikes
June 15, 2024, Paris Airport. We’re saying goodbye to our families and friends for a year, a year and a half, maybe even two years. We’ve been talking about this trip for so long that it’s become a running joke among our friends and family. This time, it’s for real! Excitement, butterflies in my stomach, one last macaron and one last croissant for a long time: I’m setting off full of enthusiasm, not really prepared, but after some solid groundwork in the form of farewell parties and dinners with friends.
At the oversized baggage check-in counter, the security manager falls in love with our project. He promises us that our bikes will be strapped down and well taken care of, even meets us on the tarmac for a photo, and sends us on our way feeling reassured. We don’t ask for his number. In Calgary, in front of the oversized baggage carousel, we wait… and nothing. The AirTag tucked into my bike is clear: it stayed in Paris.
Luckily, Monique and Mike—friends of Julien’s family and our very first hosts on this trip—come to pick us up at the airport. For four days, Mike shows us the most beautiful views in Calgary, accompanies us on our last-minute shopping trips, and teaches us how to light our camping stove (we’re terrified of blowing it up). Monique, for her part, spoils us like a grandmother. It rains for four days. The day the bikes finally arrive, the sun comes out with them. A sign!
Now we just have to put them back on. Julien rides tubeless, and his tires—which had been deflated for the flight—refuse to fit back onto the rim. Without a pump, Mike pulls out a piece of string, ties the rear tire up like a cycling Rambo, and yells at us to inflate it quickly. The tire snaps into place. A miracle!
Day One: Cows, a nature reserve, and a wad of dollars
On June 19, we leave Calgary via its surprisingly numerous bike paths before joining Highway 1. Four lanes, a wide shoulder, trucks whizzing by: for a trip that’s supposed to be on the bike paths, we could do better. So we veer off onto the small roads that run parallel to it… until we come to a “No Trespassing” sign. Turning back would mean riding all the way back up the plateau and losing an hour. We go right through the gate!
Down below, a whole valley full of cows—and maybe a bull or two. I want to turn back. But we keep going. With our saddlebags and bear bells jingling with every bump, we must be the strangest thing they’ve ever seen: they scatter as we approach. I think they’re even more scared than I am!
After Cochrane, a small trail leads us to the Stoney Nakoda Nation reserve. Mike and Monique told us about the place Indigenous peoples hold in Canada—a subject that remains painful—and about the reserves that you don’t cross without being invited. So, in front of a bison ranch, we ask three men who are chatting for permission. They grant it without hesitation, offering a piece of advice: poverty has taken a heavy toll on the reserve, as has alcohol, so whenever you see a car, stop and pull over to the side of the road.
The first thirty kilometers pass in total silence, our ears straining for the slightest rustle that might betray a bear. Then the cars arrive. The first one pulls up beside us, and its driver—who clearly isn’t in the best of moods—blurts out a flat “It’s a reserve, man…” Three or four others follow, all with the same warning that we’ll be fined if the sheriff finds us there. We apologize, explain the situation, and eventually make our way out of the reserve, safe and sound, though with a bit of a heavy heart.
That evening, we found a campground in the middle of nowhere—Stoney Park Campground—for $30, a fortune for us. But sleeping outside with the bears was out of the question. And since there was no cell service, the owner only accepted cash. What a rookie mistake! I then thought back to my grandfather, Daddy, who slipped me a wad of dollars as we said goodbye, with this warning: “This isn’t to buy drugs!” Daddy, rest assured: your first dollars are paying for our first night in a tent.
That evening, after 78 km, we pitched our tent for the first time on the American continent and ate our first bowl of ramen. As we lit the stove all by ourselves, we thought of Mike.
The Blues of the Early Days
The next day, a 73-km ride through Canmore takes us to Banff. The Great Divide finally begins. And for me, it gets off to a bad start. The first leg was supposed to be 35 km, but the campground we planned to stay at is closed for renovations: we end up riding 85 km, with over 1,000 m of elevation gain, a headwind, and the fear of bears around every bend. By evening, I couldn’t even manage a smile anymore—and for me, that’s a very bad sign!
The days that follow aren’t any easier. I cry at night; I cry on the climbs. I miss my family and friends more than I ever imagined, and I feel like I’m just tagging along behind Julien, who’s much better prepared than I am. He patiently tells me over and over that it’ll take a month for my body to adjust. To cheer me up, he also points out the snow-capped peaks, promising me that the snow will only be knee-deep. I believe him every time!
And yet, all around us, everything is magical: pine forests crisscrossed by streams, little waterfalls, and those white mountains across the way. I know there are people who would love to be in our shoes. I eventually realize that the moment when I break down comes a little later each day. And that after a good meal, everything feels better!
On that very first evening, in fact, it was a meal that saved the day. At an intersection, we asked a man riding a bike with his son for directions. He pointed us to a self-service campground, where you pay by slipping money into a box that the ranger empties every week. His name is Jim. Along with Kristina and their two children, ages about 5 and 8, they’ve just cycled 25 km. Seeing the look on our faces, they offer to share their dinner with us. We have our packets of ramen to offer. They bring out a grill, ribs, and about ten side dishes. At this point, sharing their meal or raiding it is pretty much the same thing! They head off, leaving us some energy bars for the next day and even some soap.
Don't miss: Episode 2, “The Big Departure,” and Episode 3, “The Blues of the Early Days.”
A grizzly bear, Mel, and a “not very Canadian” aperitif
On the second day, in the rain, we finally spotted our first bear—from a distance, from the road, with cars all around it. Such a peaceful moment! That evening, in the showers at the Boulton Creek campground, we proudly showed the photo to Mel, a Canadian woman. Her verdict: it’s not a black bear—it’s a grizzly! The animal that terrifies us the most—encountered on just the second day, without a single incident.
A few minutes later, a car pulls up in front of our tent. It’s Mel and her husband: “That’s really not very Canadian of me—I should have invited you over right away!” We head over to their RV for an appetizer of colorful chips (Mel’s a dietitian, but when you’re camping, that doesn’t count) and a beer. After weeks without alcohol, just one beer is enough to make us wobble. We go to bed at 11 p.m., setting our alarm for 5 a.m. to tackle Elk Pass, that iconic section of the Great Divide that follows a power line along the ridge between Alberta and British Columbia.
Check out: Episode 3.
A Risky Split Between Elkford and Fernie
In Elkford, we decide to split up for the day, each taking on our own challenge. Julien wants to follow the official route through the Koko Claims, a “hors catégorie” pass that very few people take. As for me, I’m taking Highway 3 to Fernie, 65 km away, via Sparwood. We’re meeting up that evening at Marie-Hélène and Johnny’s place—our Warmshowers hosts. Julien makes me memorize their address, though I don’t quite understand why. I’ll soon find out!
My day. Sparwood doesn’t have much going for it, except for the Terex Titan—long considered the world’s largest truck—on display by the side of the road. After 35 km of cars zooming by at full speed, I’ve had enough of Highway 3. I spot signs for the Continental Divide Trail—the long hiking trail that roughly follows the Great Divide—and decide to follow it all the way to Fernie. I don’t regret it: forests of firs and conifers, the scent of resin, and not a soul for miles. The only downside: Julien’s the one with the bear spray! I run into James and Stéphane from the Adaptive Grand Slam Project—a group of athletes with disabilities I’d met that morning at the campground—who are cooling off under a waterfall. Then, a few hundred meters from Fernie, I take a hard fall on the gravel. I can’t get back up. They’re the ones who pick me up—my phone in pieces—and walk me all the way to our hosts’ house. The address I’d memorized really comes in handy!
Julien’s day. It begins under bright sunshine. To have a chance of seeing a bear, he turns off his music and his bell. His wish comes true within the first few kilometers of the climb, on a carpet of pine needles that crunch under his tires: a huge black mass, a head turning toward him. He claps and waves his arms, and the bear bolts. Then the trail turns into a scree slope. For 4 to 5 hours, he pushes and carries his 50- to 60-kg bike from rock to rock, covering barely 8 km, with only 2 liters of water. Two motorcyclists—a father and son who had set out from Alaska—push their bikes alongside him: they finish the climb together and fall into each other’s arms at the summit.
The descent is just as steep as the climb: he slips, loses the filter from his camera, and breaks his glasses. At the bottom, while crossing a bridge, he comes face-to-face with a black bear, just five meters away. The rangers recommend staying at least a hundred meters away! Julien pulls out his phone to film, the bear starts following him, the phone goes back into his bag, and he pulls out the bear spray. He backs away, screaming, but the bear keeps advancing, no doubt drawn to the banana hanging from his bag. Two or three interminable minutes pass, then the animal walks away. A fly fisherman then drives by in a 4×4. When the bear returns, Julien watches him chase it away with wild gestures, shouting and banging on the hood of his car. His advice for escaping a grizzly, however, is less reassuring: close your eyes and think very hard about your favorite place on Earth.
The temperature is between 35 and 40 °C, Julien has run out of water, and the filter is still in my panniers. He drinks water from a river without filtering it, climbs one last pass with his last ounce of strength, and finally passes a sign that reads: “Good luck to all the riders.” When he reaches the asphalt again, he breaks down in tears—from exhaustion, relief, and above all, pride! He arrives at 8 p.m., after 105 km, ten hours in the saddle, and a dozen hours on the road, only to find me… in a terrible state. We stay in Fernie for a few days, just long enough for me to be able to hold the handlebars again.
Check out: Episode 4, “A Risky Breakup.”
Goodbye, Canada
From Fernie, it’s just one more leg of the journey to Eureka and the U.S. border. Looking back, this Canadian stretch was short but intense: our first bears, our first tears, and a warmth that carried us through every time we faltered. Riding with the snow-capped mountains ahead of us was a gift whose full significance we didn’t fully appreciate until we arrived in the deserts of the United States.
Practical Information for a Cycling Trip in Canada
When is the best time to go?
We were there in June, just as the Tour Divide riders were setting off from Banff. There was still snow on the peaks and along the trail in the mountain passes; it rained heavily the first few days, and we had temperatures as high as 35–40 °C on the hottest day. Be sure to pack clothes for all of these conditions.
Topography and Terrain
- There is an elevation gain of about 1,000 m every 50 km, with gradients of up to 15%.
- The most challenging sections of the Great Divide include stretches where you have to carry your bike, or even sections with loose rocks.
- Major highways (Highway 1, Highway 3) have wide shoulders but heavy traffic. Bike paths in Calgary and trails like the Continental Divide Trail allow you to avoid them.
Bears
- Black bears and grizzlies are out and about from May through October, especially in British Columbia and Alberta. We saw several of them in just a few days.
- The black bear is the most common: it is smaller and is considered less aggressive. The grizzly, a subspecies of the brown bear, is much larger and can be recognized by the hump on its back.
- Keep your bear spray within easy reach (not at the bottom of a bag) and stay at least 100 m away. If a bear approaches, make yourself visible and audible: use big gestures, shout, and make noise. Don't run.
- Store food away from the tent, up high, or in the campsites’ bear-proof lockers. Don’t leave anything that smells good inside the tent, and don’t leave any cooking water outside it.
- Bear-deterrent bells are mostly decorative: according to the park rangers, their main purpose is to spot tourists from a distance.
Where to stay?
- Campgrounds: They’re often basic and fairly expensive (around thirty dollars), but we’ve never had to make a reservation when traveling by bike. Many have bear-proof lockers.
- Self-service campgrounds: You pay by putting the money in a box, and the attendant comes by to collect it. It’s based on trust.
- Camping: allowed, provided you stay out of sight of the road and take every precaution against bears. At first, we didn't dare.
- Homestay: The Warmshowers network connected us with Marie-Hélène and Johnny in Fernie.
Money, Water, and Logistics
- Cash: Some remote campgrounds don't have access to a bank or an ATM. Always keep a few dollars on hand.
- Water: There’s no shortage of rivers, but you’ll need a filter or a purifier. And be sure to bring more than 2 liters for a Category 1 mountain pass!
- Transporting bikes on a plane: Put an AirTag on your bike and write down the contact information of the person handling your oversized luggage. Our bikes arrived four days late.
- Tubeless tires: Make sure you have a way to “seal” your tires without a compressor—or a good string trick.
- First Nations reservations: Do not enter them without permission. Ask for permission, and respect the answer.
Your Questions About Bikepacking in Canada
In Banff, Alberta. The route stretches about 4,340 km to Antelope Wells on the Mexican border. The Canadian section runs from Banff to the U.S. border near Eureka, Montana: 391 km and 4,855 m of elevation gain for us.
The trip took two days. On the first day, we rode 78 km to Stoney Park Campground, passing through Cochrane and the Stoney Nakoda Reserve (with the residents’ permission), then 73 km the next day through Canmore—for a total of about 150 km, 2,000 m of elevation gain, and a little over 12 hours in the saddle. Calgary’s bike paths and small roads allow you to avoid a good portion of Highway 1.
We covered it in 5 days by bike, spending about 30 hours and 30 minutes in the saddle, plus a few days of rest in Fernie. Tour Divide riders complete the route much faster.
Above all, you need to be prepared: keep bear spray within reach, store food away from the tent, and make noise if a bear approaches. We encountered several bears, including a grizzly and a black bear just five meters away, without any incidents.
At campgrounds (without a reservation, about $30 for cyclists), self-service campgrounds, in campsites out of sight of the road, or staying with locals through Warmshowers.
We were there in June, right when the Tour Divide starts in Banff: there was still snow on the peaks and in the mountain passes. Keep in mind that bears are active from May through October.
Episodes to Listen To
Episode 2: “The Big Departure” (the airport, the bikes left behind in Paris, Mike and Monique, the first day)
Episode 3: “The Blues of the Early Days” (the tears, Jim and Kristina, the grizzly bear, Mel)
Episode 4: “A Risky Split” (Elkford-Fernie, Going Their Separate Ways, Julien’s Bears)
You can find them all on our podcast page, on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and Deezer. Next up is Montana, in episodes 5 through 11! For more stories, click here, and to support the blog, click there!
Marie-Liesse de Villele
Marie-Liesse de Villele, co-founder of Fast Won't Last. Since June 2024, she has been cycling across the Americas with Julien, from Canada to Patagonia, focusing on off-road trails and camping. She writes the blog posts and shares stories about the trip on the duo’s cycling adventure podcast.
Nicole Avril
Bravo ! What courage for this ADVENTURE !