We’ve just returned from the Lake Louise area of the Canadian Rockies, where one day it was 4⁰C and raining. The snowpack in the area was crusty on top with a wet layer underneath that grabbed my leg and made it almost impossible to turn it any which way. This was bad news for our dog, Silah, as it was just deep enough for her to twist a leg in it. She’s starting to show her age—lately she’s been having some issues with her hind end that we’re concerned about. This might be our last Rockies trip with her. The only trails that were accessible were x-country and backcountry ski trails, and it’s heresy to snowshoe on ski tracks or let your dog walk on them. So we couldn’t do a lot of outdoor activities while we were there.
Dave drove me to Banff to meet up with a writing friend, Kathy. Even though we see each other very infrequently (last time was 2024 here on the Island), it was a joy to chat all afternoon about writing, life, people, photography, and creative practice. I miss those kinds of conversations.
One morning we drove to Lake Louise to catch the sunrise over the mountains. We were just 15 minutes too late, still driving as the rising sun shone pink alpenglow over the snow-covered mountains to the north, with deep purple and a hint of green filling the space below it. It was a gorgeous sight, and I was glad I’d got up early to see it, just not quite early enough to capture it on camera.
On our way back we stopped to walk down to the river and see Castle Mountain (Miistukskoowa in the Blackfoot language), which overlooks where we were staying. The sunrise was long gone, as we’d spent most of our time at Lake Louise, but the mountain was still majestic and the riverbank was the perfect angle from which to take pictures. The mountain loomed on the horizon, a huge mass of rock shaped into buttresses, towers, and ramparts. It’s a geological oddity, with the older rock over the younger rock, and was first discovered by white men on John Palliser’s 1858 Rockies expedition. A light dusting of snow emphasized the creases and crenulations of the rock, showing its castle-like towers. I imagined climbing it—bushwhacking through the forest that surrounds its base like a moat, then scaling the sheer cliffs to reach the top. It would be quite the accomplishment. We talked about getting up early to capture the sunrise over Castle Mountain, but in the end didn’t do it.
Because the next day I wasn’t feeling well at all. The dark cloak of depression descended on me that morning, a weight that hung from my head and shoulders until I felt I was sinking into the ground. I felt even worse as we didn’t venture far from the cabin as I was so stricken. We weren’t taking advantage of the snow, the views, the environment. Instead we walked the road around the compound and across the street at the hostel. Read in front of the fire. Did our best to enjoy being in the mountains.
It was a good trip, though less active than we’d expected. If we’d stayed in Jasper we could have done more walks around town and gone up to Pyramid Lake and the Pyramid Bench. Where we stayed there were far fewer options for just getting outside and walking or snowshoeing. But it’s getting pricey to stay in Jasper with a dog. I have to remember that, no matter where you stay, it’s always a treat to be in the mountains, to see those soaring peaks and the otherworldly light on the freshly snowed-covered heights.
