Endless Chain

by BENJAMIN JORDAN

Jasper is the only national park in North America that allows paraglider travel. Despite this, its remoteness and mystery have caused most pilots to steer away from her vast potential. Over the past couple of years, I became fascinated with Jasper’s diverse terrain, and last summer I began obsessing over the idea of becoming the first person to fly her crown jewel. The Endless Chain is an unmistakable series of unbroken peaks, stretching along a razor-thin, 25km ridgeline and, with its perfect, southwestern aspect, appears to be one of the most straightforward sections of Canada’s Rockies to free fly. So why hasn’t anyone flown it?

That’s what I was on a mission to find out. When I first learned that humans could travel great distances by paraglider, I imagined becoming the first person to float down the entire spine of Canada’s pristine Rocky Mountains.

The farther I flew northwest, the more I realized why so few Rocky Mountain flights had gone in this direction. Like a proud man unwilling to ask for directions, I finally became aware that I was going in the wrong direction.

Ironically, the more I learned about the sport, the more distant that dream became. Because of their remoteness, unpredictable weather systems, and sheer butt-puckering size, I spent the first decade of my piloting career running from them—flying as far as I could from my country’s legendary, rocky backyard. Two summers ago that changed, when I mustered up the courage to fly, volbiv, from the city of Vancouver, BC, to Calgary, Alberta. This 39-day, 1000-km trip crossed the entire span of Canada’s southwestern mountain ranges, ultimately leading to the final hurdle, Canada’s Rocky Mountains and my first crossing of the Continental Divide.

Contemplating that fateful west-toeast flight across the Rockies aroused in me a sort of stimulus overload. Feelings of terror, amazement and pride all flooded my senses, then spat me out on the other side, with their majesty leaving me feeling just as grand as they are. Fast forward two years. I’m walking across the border from Montana into British Columbia, about to grab my long-lost dream by the horns. The plan: to take the first-ever northbound route straight up the spine of Canada’s Rocky Mountains, leading me from the United States all the way to Prince George, the capital of Northern BC. If I succeed, this will become the first and only expedition to cross the Continental Divide twice, as well as the first complete crossing of Jasper National Park and the longest ever vol-biv in the Americas. Did I have something to prove? You bet I did! But what, was anyone’s guess.

Not knowing what lay ahead, I strutted my stuff up the first logging road I could find and, after a full day of bushwhacking through cut blocks and forest, reached the top of the ridge and my very first launch. The first few flights were sensational. I’d never flown along the southern end of the Rocky Mountain Trench. I found the most demanding aspect was having to constantly wipe drool from my mouth, leaving me permanently agape at the ever-changing wonders of Mother Nature. But the farther I flew northwest, the more I realized why so few Rocky Mountain flights had gone in this direction. Like a proud man unwilling to ask for directions, I finally became aware that I was going in the wrong direction. While I enjoyed a southern tailwind for the first 120 km, everything north of that was either west, north, or a combination