
They strapped an odometer to a bike wheel and wrote one of Canada's most iconic hiking guides
CBC
When hikers head out to the mountains this long weekend, some will choose their route by word of mouth, others will use a trail app — but plenty will reach for a well-worn copy of the Canadian Rockies Trail Guide.
The guide, affectionately known as "the Bible" to some outdoor enthusiasts, has been on the bookshelves and in the glove compartments of Alberta hikers for more than 50 years.
It's thought to be the first comprehensive hiking guide to the region and is Canada's longest-running hiking guide still under its original authorship, according to the book's publisher.
But when Brian Patton first approached Bart Robinson about the project in 1969, neither one was thinking far beyond that summer.
"Brian came up with the idea … and I said, 'Sounds great,' thinking at the time that it would never be in publication for more than a few years," said Robinson, the guide's co-author.
At the time, both men were kicking around the Rockies and working at the Banff Book and Art Den.
Patton saw a gap in the market for a book of his own: a local hiking guide that would spark interest in hikes beyond the most popular trails, and that would include photos and, most importantly, accurate measurements.
To measure the trails, the pair drew inspiration from the traditional surveyor's wheel but needed something a bit more rugged to go over bumpy rocks and roots.
They approached a local bike seller, who built them a custom creation: an odometer slapped on top of a full-sized bicycle wheel.
"They were hell pushing through mud and up over scree fields and so on, but generally they worked pretty well," said Robinson.
The first edition featured trails from Banff, Jasper, Kootenay, Yoho, Waterton Lakes, Glacier and Mount Revelstoke national parks, along with some trails around Mount Assiniboine and Mount Robson provincial parks.
To cover such a large surface area, the men opted to divide and conquer, rarely hiking together except on certain trips to make sure they were still coming up with the same measurements.
It was tedious to interrupt hikes to take down measurements, and the bike wheels drew some hecklers, but the pair said the field work was a joy.
The hard part came later: sitting around in Patton's apartment (he'd thrown his mattress in the living room to turn his bedroom into an office) translating notes from more than 100 hikes into a comprehensive guidebook.