WE began our road trip at 8 a.m.--with the goal of reaching Jasper National Park by sundown. Our roomy Jeep was packed to the brim with warm-weather and cold-weather clothes. The advice given was to be prepared for any kind of climate. Although Vancouver was experiencing a gorgeous Indian summer--the weather up in the Rockies could be unpredictable--we packed everything from sweaters to swimsuits.

The drive was uneventful, although the scenery changed and flashed before us like a movie set. We started off on relatively flat land, and went through desert-like regions, mountainous areas and a kaleidoscope of fall colors, as we headed to the national park.

Our first stop on the way was Kamloops, a town that resembled Southern California more than British Columbia, Canada. The surroundings were dry and barren and seemed out of place compared to the lush greenery we had just come through. A desert in the midst of an oasis.

The town of Avola was next. We loaded some gas and talked to the owner who turned out to be the town's Donald Trump. He owned the gas station, the convenience store, the hotel, the restaurant and the deli--and they were all for sale. We spent a couple of minutes discussing the merits of quitting our lives in Vancouver and moving to Avola. In the end, we had to go, although we promised him we'd think about it.

We hit Jasper National Park early afternoon. Our thoughts turned to cheese fondue as we surveyed the view around us. If I hadn't been awake for most of the road trip I would've sworn the Jeep had sprouted wings and flown us all to Switzerland.

We were struck by the park's sacredness and of how we, as humans living in the bustling metropolis, were awed by the sight of animals roaming freely. We quickly realized the view was really the way things ought to be, and our shining cities were really manmade aberrations of nature.

Traffic piled up on the road to Jasper, as cars stopped to take pictures of a herd of elk and caribou, grazing by the heyday. The male elk, suffering from a case of excess hormones in tune with the annual rutting season, was skittish and nervous around all the tourists and the camera-attention he was getting. Elks have been known to charge and we were warned of several recent gory incidents.

We waved goodbye to the elk family from the safety of our car--took a few snapshots from behind closed windows and sped off to Jasper as fast as we could.

We arrived at 6 p.m., booked our tours for the next day and checked into the Marmot Lodge on Jasper's Main drag. Dinner was easy--the lodge's main restaurant, Echoes, featured causal and upscale dining. We chose casual and, at 10 p.m., turned in for a good night's sleep.

Our tour was scheduled for 11 a.m. so we stopped off at a local café for a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon. First stop was at Maligne Lake where we took a two-hour boat ride to Spirit Island. I had seen all the postcards and wasn't disappointed.

We were allowed to disembark on the island for pictures. Cameras of all sorts began to appear with various lenses. Everyone played photographer, unable to resist the emerald lake and mysterious island view.

We spent couple of hours at the restaurant and the coffee shop, then headed back to Jasper.

Dinner was at Villa Caruso, an Italian restaurant on the Main street. It was an enticing choice with its window view of the chef grilling juicy, tender, Alberta beef steaks.

The restaurant was packed, and most of the waiters had that harried, tired look from a whole season of activity. It was hard to believe that in a week's time, with the end of the summer season, the restaurant would be empty.

Our tour to the Columbia Ice Fields started at 8 a.m. The Ice Fields, one of the most popular attractions in the Jasper National Park, are the largest south of Alaska, and, really all that remains of the great ice sheet that once covered most of Canada.

Our ''snocoach'' took us right to the glacier, and as we alighted I had the distinct impression of walking on the moon. The air was thinner and my lungs received a huge blast of cold. The Indian summer had gone and we had driven straight into the North Pole!

The fog that had cloaked most of our morning was now lifting, and we could see the scenery around us as it was slowly unveiled. Shades of gray, brown and blue were the predominant colors against the stark, white fields. It certainly didn't resemble anything on earth--perhaps more of an Venusian landscape.

Some Asian tourists were making snowballs out of the ice and posing for pictures to send back home.

Our tour guide joked, ''This doesn't enhance Canada's image. Everyone already thinks we live in igloos!''

After the Icefield we headed to the Sunanwapta and Athabasca Falls. The photographers on the trip were having a heyday as they hurried to capture the thundering waters, beads of light glistening against the spray, and the occasional rainbow.

One Californian on the tour suggested sending some water to his parched State.

Next stop was Goat Hill lookout, with a spectacular view of the park and its wildlife. Mt. Edith Cavell, featuring the Angel Glacier, and a meltwater lake, could also be seen to the South.

North of Jasper, Miette Hot Springs provided a soothing and healthful soak for our weary traveler's muscles.

We left the Hot Springs and headed to the Punchbowl Falls. The Falls have, for the past years, with its powerful roaring water, burrowed deeper into the earth. We were standing at the top of the crevice--where the water level once rose up to. Now, the falls, fed by the great glaciers, had caused a deep erosion and rushed 15 feet below us. The thundering roar was deafening as we viewed the water tumbling down at the bottom of the steep, limestone cliffs.

We returned to the lodge at 2 p.m., packed our bags and headed for Lake Louise.

Fifty minutes later we were at Chateau Lake Louise, a vision unto itself.

The Chateau seemed to sprout unintentionally, facing a supreme landscape of emerald waters, verdant forests and towering alpine mountains. We asked for a room with a view.

I took a walk around the lake's perimeter before dinner and felt like Heidi on her way to find her sheep--or Julie Andrews in the ''Sound of Music.'' If I could sing, I would've broken out into melody, but I didn't dare disturb the birds.

The lake glistened next to me and the tinkle of tiny streams from the mountains filled the air. Paradise was getting a run for its money.

I headed in as the sun began to fall, casting an orange glow on the lake.

The lights in the hotel were dim and we asked if there were any ghosts in the hotel. They hadn't heard of any, but Stephen King's psychological thriller, ''The Shining,'' had been based on the Chateau. The celebrated author had come up prior to filming to see it, and used it as inspiration for the closed-down hotel where Jack Nicholson becomes possessed by the spirit of a murderer.

We all pulled in our sheets a little tighter that night.

We left our lovely Chateau and headed for Banff.

Banff felt like a big town after Jasper and Lake Louise. We took advantage and headed straight to a café to have some ''tall skinny decaf almond lattes.'' Surrounded by the Rocky Mountains, we sipped our coffee and ogled the view in disbelief.

We browsed through the many quaint shops. The Spirit of Christmas was a favorite. It was filled with Christmas objects, tree decorations, ceramic musical boxes, Santa figurines and hot and spicy mulled apple cider!

Our salesperson told us this was exactly as Banff looked like in the winter time; a fairy tale of lights and snow. We studied our date books for some free time in December.

Banff also boasts some of the world's best skiing so we knew the town would probably be packed to the brim.

That evening we had dinner at the elegant Banff Springs hotel. With over a century of history, the hotel was built to resemble a castle. Nestled on a bed of pine trees and a flowing spring, we wondered where the King and his court were staying.

We headed up the Sulphur Mountain Gondola for an aerial view of the Banff National Park. Dawn was breaking and the sun was poking through the thick fog, casting rays of light on patches of green mountainside. Sharing our gondola was an American couple from New Jersey, who couldn't seem to believe their eyes, and were aching all the way up. In order to shed some light on their behavior the man said, ''Well Jersey's kinda flat.''

The Cave and Basin Centennial Centre was our next stop. The Centre features an original 1887 bathhouse, a collection of historic displays and several geological exhibits. In the summer you can swim in the hot springs and enjoy the healing and restorative effects of the warm sulfur water.

The cave in itself was quite a sight and the smell of sulfur hit our nostrils as we entered the cave's mouth. The water was a warm 35o and flowed outward in a natural jet stream. We felt we had walked into the Devil's own private Jacuzzi.

The tour then took us through Tunnel Mountain Drive, a 9-km drive offering endless panoramic views of the Bow River. We stopped at the Tunnel Mountain Hoodos formation for a photo session.

The Hoodoos, entirely sculpted by nature, were thought to have housed powerful spirits. The Native Americans were able to figure out if good or evil spirits lived in the Hoodoos. If evil spirits had settled there they avoided the area altogether for fear of terrible consequences. One tourist asked if ''hoodoo'' had any connection to ''voodoo.'' The guide promised to check on that for the next group.

Lunch was The Yard, a Tex-Mex restaurant with a charming view of the town and the mountain ranges. The spicy food and sizzling fajitas were a warm welcome from the growing cold front that had come in the evening before and threatened to stay. We walked around some more and indulged in a last Banff café. An afternoon siesta was in order.