8,695 days on earth – Seattle, Washington.

Banff is a short jaunt away from Calgary, and was my main destination on my trip through Canada – other than finding somewhere in Washington to stay for awhile.  It was different than I expected, but I’m glad that I spent the time there that I did.

The city of Canmore was where I made my home-destination for five days.  Touristy and nestled in the mountains, but it still felt like there was a vibrant home-community there once one got a bit further from the city center.  Many shops and stores subsisted on the tourists who would come during this time, and I think that makes for an interesting life-dynamic.  I unintentionally came during what may have been the busiest month during the summer seasons, so I didn’t spend as much time here as I would have liked – somewhat discouraged by my fellow tourists.

I’d commute about half an hour to the Banff entryway nestled on the Trans-Canada Highway.  I spent maybe an hour or two in the actual town of Banff, the national park encompassing almost 2600 miles.  The view during the drive is absoultely gorgeous, and upon seeing arrows pointing towards “Mt. Sulfur,” I knew immediately where my first stop would be.  Sounds badass.  I haven’t hiked many mountains, but I’m glad that I did this one.  By the time I reached the top, it had been about 3 hours.  It was intense and I had sweat soaked straight through to my wallet, my laptop in my backpack, and down to my navel on my shirt-front.  I went fast and came unprepared.  Listening to “Year of The Snitch” by Death Grips on loop until I reached the top – smiling at my fellow hikers as I passed, pushing myself on my pace.

Upon reaching the peak, one sees the gondolas that have been peeking through the trees during the hike up.  There’s a large 3-tiered building with one gift shop, one coffee shop, and two high-brow restaurants whose menu prices I can only imagine.  It was packed to the brim with gondola-riders and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a soul-crushing sadness and overstimulation from the sheer amount of people sardined inside and outside of the building.  How dare they be up here without having faced the sheer-difficulty of scaling the mountain?  Perhaps it was imagined, but it felt as though many eyes were lingering at my sweat-soaked shirt and looking down on me for not having a pleasant non-smell.  I was gross and I stunk.  For the small handful of those that obviously had come up with their feet rather than the $80 round trip for the gondola rides, it seemed there were 10 who hadn’t expended the effort.

One thing that people often do that really strikes a nerve is when we’re in a highly congested area, and someone or a group just stops to look at something – blocking a small walkway to chat rather than moving to a place that doesn’t impede on others.  Grocery stores often being the place that this behavior comes to mind.  This happened more than three times, and being the smelly-sweat-soaked man that I was, was a bit pissed after that beautiful transcendent experience of isolated effort hiking up that mountain.  The expectation is to be on the peak only with those who had earned the achievement.  But instead, I saw two old women bitter that they had to ask for the wifi password – once appeased, they took out their iPads.  One checked the score of the World Cup for England, and the other made a Skype call, positioning herself at the perfect angle showing the mountains behind her.  I felt disgusted when the person she called answered, and she lifted the iPad just a few more inches, and said in a smug manner, “Oh, hiiiii.  What are you doing?”  Social flaunting that she was on top of this mountain, living such an interesting and important life.  I just felt they all missed the point of what made this view beautiful, but perhaps that’s my own flaw.  Maybe I’m being selfish – many of them were 50+ in years and couldn’t have made that voyage on foot.

But five minutes walk away, I was heading back down the mountain.  The negativity and over-stimulation of hawaiian shirts and fanny packs fading away when encountering those still on the voyage to the top.  Being able to give them a reassuring smile of “I made it, keep going, you can too” being almost more enjoyable than the hike ascending.  I felt more welcomed again, and people returned smiles with a mutual respect – trying to give them as much reassurance as I could to help dampen the possible disappointment of the human-made net that awaits them at the top.