Banff Back Country on Horseback - The compiled writings

Back in civilisation now after an amazing week in Banff's back country. This post is the journal entries I wrote while out there, mostly by the camfires at camp in the evenings. Photos to come when I can, but be warned, neither my writings nor any photographs can hope to capture a fraction of the experience. You'll just have to get out here and do it yourself. Enjoy!


June 26

To say I am awestruck by the scenery I've now spent two days riding through would not be doing this place or this experience justice. Right now I'm wishing that my previous travel writings were less prone to hyperbole so that I could give this place the emphasis is deserves.

The group I've joined for this week-long trek on horseback through Banff National Park is small, only 6 of us plus our soft-spoken guide, Kerry, a self-proclaimed mountain-man. There's Anna and Shirley, a mother and her 16-year-old daughter, both dairy farmers from Black Creek in the Comox Valley. There's Rob, a lawyer from Edmonton, and his 13 year old horse-crazy daughter Megan who is brave and enthusiastic and reminds me so much of myself at her age. And there's Mike, a 29 year old visual effects artist/programmer from London who is seeing Canada for the first time. All are keen and capable riders, all are good-natured and friendly and we've bonded already "through joy and adversity" as Shirley and I noted. The joy of the sheer splendor of this place and the adversity of sore legs, backs, and bums from our mode of transport.

The horses too have been well above what I'd expected. Well-muscled, responsive and wonderfully willing. I have been so pleased to see how much of my feared-forgotten horse husbandry, riding skill and general knowledge is still intact. And while my muscles may not quite have the same tone and strength they once did, the do still remember what to do.

In two days, we've ridden just over 60 miles, through alpine meadows still fringed with snow, steep grassy hillsides, peat bogs oozing with the clearest, sweetest water, and rocky valleys following and crossing rivers swollen with spring melt.

The mountains are almost too big and classically formed to seem real. Last night we camped beside Stoney Creek in the shadow of the Vermillion Range. As the light changed from early dawn to midday sun to golden dusk, these mountains continued to look completely surreal. I joked with Mike that they looked like something he could have created for one of his company's films. He offered to drop in a few mountain goats and wolves to complete the effect.


Tomorrow we climb to just under 7000 feet and it can only get colder, although I don't understand how it can possibly get more beautiful despite Kerry's promises that the best is still to come.


June 28

I am loving the sense of freedom, adventure and play that has come over me on this trip. Yesterday we stopped for lunch in a valley under the gaze of the mammoth rock that is Block Mountain, with the Sawback Ridge filling the rest of the skyline. The valley contained the source of the Cascade River, which we had been riding next to most of that day, crossing it numerous times. The sky was the deepest, clearest blue and the river so pure, running deep and cold and I sank to my knees next to it. I knelt in the shadow of that mountain, in that sunlit valley with the river in front of me and I laughed while tears ran down my face. I'd never been so moved by a place, by a sight as I was then. It completely startled me to have such a strong reaction. I just can't remember ever having been this content.

When we got back to camp that night, I went to the icy river, stripped to the waist and wadded in, jeans rolled to my knees. I scooped the frigid water over my head and shoulders and laughed like a maniac to be doing it. What a place is this to bring out such complete happiness in me?


June 29

Today we rode through Flint Park, along a ridge that passed Rainbow Lake and through 40 Mile Pass, a high alpine pass that bisects the Vermillion and Sawback ranges. I swam in the lake where snow still fringed it's edges and a glacier, hidden under crumbled slate, dipped its toes in the water. It was so cold my breath came in quick gasps. And it absolutely delighted me.

On this trip I've become a better rider. I've become a better conservationist for having lived in a travelled through such rare and special country. I've become a better naturalist, more comfortable with the dust and discomfort of the wilderness. I've become more patient, understanding and I have been, quite simply, happier than I can remember.