witness to the mountains; embracing fear.
The air is heavy with the smell of sugar and cinnamon as I lie in the late morning sun streaming in from the living room windows. It’s 11:22am in Vancouver on November 6th, and, it’s a Friday. The days seem to blend into each other while on the road and yet somehow, Friday’s always have a particular energy about them that screams, the weekend is here, the weekend is HERE.
We’ve officially hit the coast, but let’s backtrack a little. The past two weeks we’ve spent slowly travelling around B.C. After our long journey through all of Manitoba and most of Saskatchewan in one day, we reached the mountains. We arrived in Banff on a Wednesday evening to the darkness of the mountains surrounding us after an afternoon with my aunt and uncle in Calgary. Earlier that day as we drove out of the city, I began to see the snow-covered peaks of the Canadian Rockies for the first time in my adult life and an overwhelming sense of gratitude stirred inside of me. Tears of joy streamed down my face as the sunshine beamed through the front windows of our car as we drove, and warmed my face, making me feel cozy all over. Mountains, I thought to myself, beautiful, yet terrifying. Two characteristics true to me at both the very same time. Feelings of joy, excitement, anticipation, love, gratitude, and happiness stayed with me since the very first moment I saw them, until the moment I said see you soon to the Canadian Rocky Mountains as we drove out towards a mix of desert lands, temperate rainforest, and the coastal mountains of B.C.
Our days in Banff were spent exploring the many hikes within the park and surrounding Canmore area. One hike in particular which truly took my breath away was Ha Ling Peak. Ha Ling is a peak within the Canadian Rockies located south of the town of Canmore, a beautiful town located just outside of Banff National Park. The peak rises to an elevation of 2407m with an 8km switchback trail hike to the top and back. On that Saturday afternoon, we drove up to the base of the mountain and readied ourselves, ice cleats and hiking poles in hand, to climb. It’s a difficult and strenuous hike, with breathtaking views from many spots along the trail, the best view of the surrounding mountains being from the very top.
At one point in the hike, the tree line began to disappear from all around us and the trail gave way to the right with breathtaking views of the Canadian Rocky Mountains and some intense exposure. We climbed straight up for the last kilometre of the hike, feeling the weight of the elevation in our bones as we moved up two wooden staircases before reaching the snowy and narrow scramble up to the saddle of the mountain. It was windier than I expected and, in that moment, my fear of heights that I have carried with me ever since I was a little girl resurfaced. As we reached the very top, 2407m up, my mind and body gave way to fear. I went straight into a squat with my knees hugged close to my body and began to cry. I was terrified. Terrified of the exposure and height at which I was experiencing the view. Terrified of the wind. Terrified of the ice and snow. Basically, I was terrified of everything in that moment that had the ability to kill me.
Growing up, heights were never my cup of tea. As I have moved into adulthood, I have made it my mission to challenge the things that scare me most. In particular, my fear of heights. Rock climbing, snowboarding, cross country skiing, and hiking have been outlets for me to challenge my fear of heights further and further. I recognize that I will carry this fear with me for the rest of my life, but in my experience, the point of being afraid is not in learning how to make my fears simply go away, but rather, learning how to coexist and work within my fears to find confidence, joy, and peace in achieving the things I never thought possible, simply because of fear. Fear is one of my greatest teachers, one of my greatest friends.
As I sat in my safety position at the top of the mountain, I took in the beauty of the mountains around me and felt a newfound sense of amazement towards the people who climb mountains for a living. Mountains are not for the faint of heart. Mountains are not for the weak of body and mind. As I realize now, my mind could use some training in how to maintain peace and flow at high elevation in the snow, ice, and wind. This, I hope to achieve someday. Until then, I’m proud of myself for my accomplishment and grateful for the opportunity to witness such beauty.
Dear mountains, this is only the beginning for you and me.
On our other days, we explored Banff Town, Tunnel Mountain, and Lake Louise, stopping to admire the beauty of the scenery around us, taking cheesy tourist photos, and running in to old friends. I thoroughly enjoyed the comforts of a big bed, warm shower, and kitchen to cook in with a running dishwasher and accessible water source, all creature comforts that I wholeheartedly realize I take for granted whenever I am camping, and in this case while on the road. While Banff Town and Lake Louise are usually ridden with tourists during peak seasons, we had the privilege of arriving in these well-known places during a quiet off season. Banff Town, with it’s interesting history and well-worn streets, is a place I wouldn’t necessarily live, but would definitely come back to visit, even so just to have another amazing homemade croissant bought and eaten at a sweet little bakery off of the town’s main street.
On our day trip to Lake Louise, we arrived in the late afternoon to minimal people gathered in front of the Fairmont hotel, staring out at the view of the lake and surrounding mountains. The sky was a deep blue with grey clouds swirling around in the wind and the trees higher up the slope were dusted with fresh snow. We walked the snowy trail around the lake and up towards the path where a once vast glacier formed out the pass between the large and looming mountains. There was no one around us as the sun began to set behind the mountains and the clouds turned pink and yellow. Everything was silent amidst the mix of water, snow, rock, and ice, a rare moment at a world-famous natural phenomenon.
Over the years, I have grown less and less fond of snow and ice. When the cold seeps into my bones, it stays with me for days and never shakes me. In that moment, I embraced the snow and ice. I wrapped myself up in the stillness of the silence surrounding me and let it take me whole. I felt grateful for the opportunity to witness such an iconic scene in this way.
The mountains are truly awe-inspiring. I left a piece of my heart there last week as we drove out of the Canadian Rockies towards the coast. We discovered some beautiful “van-lifer” spots to camp at along the way, visited some friends in Kelowna, and then headed off towards Vancouver.
Off I go to keep exploring the coast.
All for now,
All my love,
Onward.
- m