Next, to Golden, where I had booked a rather spooky ski resort hotel, way up on the mountain miles from the town. When we arrived, there were no staff there, just written instructions on how to find the rooms. Still, we were able to make some good meals as one of the units we were in had a full kitchen. Poor Gail was exiled to the other block which seemed to be completely empty otherwise, except for an occasionally seen odd jobs man (who seemed frindly enough). Golden doesn't have a lot to recommend it: a very small historic area beside the railway, and a rather wonderful, but modern, covered bridge. But we did at least find (another) very good cafe, with good coffee and cakes, which we visited several times. Long live these independent cafes – there always seems to be one in each town – and let's hope the dead hand of Starbucks never makes it to places like this. From Golden we entered Yoho National Park, where the jewel is Emerald Lake. A glorious place, with tree lined shores and completely surrounded by mountains. We walked all around the lake and after a short distance you get away from the tourist buzz at the lodge into complete tranquillity, the views from every angle magnificent. We also visited the pretty little town of Field, in the centre of the park. It seemed almost deserted, as we waited for the freight train to pass at a level crossing, several kilometres of double stacked containers, passing slowly by.
You never seem to wait long before you hear the evocative sounds of an American train whistle or the clanging crossing bells. This is a feature it seems of every Rockies valley, parlt because in many cases the railways came before the settlements. Field seems to have been a watering stop for Rockies trains crossing between Calgary and the west, and some of the original houses were built out of box cars. One still survives there. (We later met the rather handsome Fire Chief for Field, at Calgary airport. The permanent population is about 200 and you have to have a reason to go and live there as it's heavily protected by the national park management. He seemed very content with his life there.)
From Golden we visited Glacier National Park, but the blue hole had deserted us, the mists coming in and hiding the mountains almost completely and trails were all closed. In fact, the visitor centre was still stacked up with big snowdrifts.