Peaks and Valleys

As John Denver says, some days are diamonds and some days are stones. Friday most definitely was a stone -- a long, drawn-out, whining, bickering, threat-inducing (something along the lines of coating certain children in molasses and bacon grease and leaving them by the side of the road in the middle of grizzly country), blood-pressure-maxing stone. I’d say that the fact that Hunter and Hollis are both still alive as I sit in the room below their loft tonight is a testament to my patience and general parenting amazingness, but we all know that I possess neither trait. So it must just be dumb luck. Whatever the case, Saturday was pretty decent (rain and laundry and are-you-serious-somebody-stole-the-driver’s-side-mirror-of-the-rental-van and all) and the late afternoon / evening festivities were good. We’ve seen some bighorn sheep, a couple more bears, and several elk ... and things like that always put everybody back where they belong.

Event-wise, on Friday we took a pretty lame hike to Moose Lake (alas, no moose) and spent some time in Maligne Canyon. Maligne Canyon is the canyon through which the Maligne River flows (“crashes” would be a better word) until it hooks up with the Athabasca River. The canyon is probably a couple hundred feet deep but incredibly narrow. In spots it would be a piece of cake to jump across it. No joke. Needless to say, the view from any of the six footbridges that cross it is vertigo-inducing and the flow of water through the bottom of it is rather intense. Athabasca Falls (Saturday’s attraction) is probably only 100 feet high but it’s also only about 50 feet wide. The Athabasca River is massive, so the quantity / force of water coming through it is ridiculous as well. 

One thing that we definitely are enjoying about the trip is the Canadian-ness of it. In particular, the ratio of land to people is awe-inspiring. I get that feeling anytime we come up here, but it’s been particularly strong this time. Except for a few obvious population centers (neither of which is anywhere near us), it really feels like nobody actually lives here ... at all ... that it’s just this vast wilderness area that a handful of people are sort of milling about in. And we’re not even talking about the Yukon or the Northwest Territories, or the areas in the upper half of the other provinces that essentially have no roads at all. Pardon me while I drool. As far as I am concerned, the isolation that this country affords is absolute heaven. And with the possible exception of Hadley, I think the rest of the family is right there with me. (Actually, Hadley absolutely loves it here so I think, long-run, she would be totally fine as long as she had an internet connection and access to Fantage.)

Y’know, if I could sell my house (furnished) and cars long-distance, get somebody to fly or drive the dogs up, and somehow provide for the college needs of four kids without having to work anymore I seriously would not hesitate for one second. And I don’t think I would ever cross my new southern border again. Yes, there are 75 people that are being force-fed this travel blog and obviously I’m rather fond of all of you. But there are, in fact, roads throughout some of Canada and a few airports as well, and we’d always welcome friends and family. It seems to me that the isolation would be doubly appealing if one could share it periodically with a hand-picked group of exquisitely cool people. The only real downside? Having to spend, as I did today, $41 to buy two 12-packs of Diet Coke, three bags of potato chips, and a loaf of Wonder bread. Cut that bill in half (at least) and I’ll pay for my own health care, thank you very much.

Well, I’m planning on dragging Hadley and Hunter out of bed at an ungodly (by summer terms) hour tomorrow to force them to accompany me on something that roughly approximates a “real” dayhike ... so I guess I will close for now. I hope your Sunday is as good as I hope mine will be.

Cheers,
Mike