Canada: The Mountain is You

I’ve written about five different versions of my solo trip recap from the Canadian Rockies, and somehow none of them seemed to do it justice. Every draft felt like it was missing something, like I was describing what happened without fully capturing what the experience meant I think.

Then I remembered something someone important to me once told me: one of the best ways to experience a place is through your senses.

So that’s how I’m going to tell this story.

Sight

The moment I landed at YYC Airport, I scrambled to grab my bag and figure out where the bus stop was for the two plus-hour ride into Banff. I barely made it onto the shuttle in time! It was small, simple, and no-frills but exactly the kind of transportation that immediately lets you know you’re in for an adventure.

As we left Calgary behind and headed toward the mountains, I watched the landscape slowly transform through my window. Then the peaks began to appear.

And I cried.

I’m not someone who cries often, especially not happy tears. But something about that drive cracked me open. Maybe it was the culmination of months of saving money to finally book this trip. Maybe it was the independence of knowing I had planned and taken this journey entirely on my own. Maybe it was the realization that I was finally on the edge of a place that was on my bucket list for years.

The trees stretched endlessly. Horses grazed in open fields. Mountains rose up from the earth in a way that hardly seemed real.

I’ve seen mountains before, but never mountains like these. I’ve seen lakes before, but never lake water those shades of blue. I’ve stood at trailheads before, but never ones that felt so respected, cared for, and preserved.

Every mile deeper into the Rockies felt like entering a postcard I somehow got to live inside!

Taste

Staying in a mixed hostel was an adventure in itself. The specific room I was in had six bunk beds filled with travelers from all over the world, all there for different reasons.

To save money, I packed plenty of snacks and didn’t eat out much at all during the trip. Most days I left very early and came back late, way too exhausted to think about restaurants in town.

I knew the hostel offered free breakfast, but I didn’t expect much from it honestly.

The first morning, I went downstairs half awake, wrapped in my rain jacket and hiking clothes. To my surprise, I walked into one of the most unexpectedly comforting parts of the entire trip…

There was a pancake station. A yogurt bar with fruit and granola. Fresh blueberry muffins. Orange juice. Coffee.

And playing through the speakers was a soundtrack that felt pulled directly from my own Spotify playlists. The Lumineers, Noah Kahan, Sam Burchfield, Joy Oladokun, Kacey Musgraves, and other indie folk favorites.

For a moment, I totally forgot I was hundreds of miles away from home.

Everything familiar was there: the music, the comfort of a slow morning, and simple joys of a good breakfast before a long day outside. Except everything just tasted better in the mountains.

.Touch

It rained during four of the five days I spent in the Rockies.

Not the occasional passing shower, but steady rain. Dark clouds hung low and a layer of fog masked nearly every view. At first, I thought, just my luck again. I had traveled all this way and got terrible weather.

But it didn’t take long to realize that the rain was actually one of the greatest gifts this trip gave me.

The trails were nearly empty. The famous Instagram spots weren’t crowded. The mountains felt quiet, intimate, and magical. The rain made everything feel a little more poetic.

I loved feeling it on my face and hands. I didn’t even mind when my socks got slightly damp. In a strange way, it reminded me of the whole reason I came: to do something uncomfortable.

There was no point in straightening my hair, either, which ended up being surprisingly freeing. There was a time when I wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing my natural curls if I could avoid it. I wore very little makeup on this trip, and for one of the first times in a long while, I felt completely comfortable showing up exactly as I was.

The waterfalls left their mark, too. Mist from them was carried through the air and settled across my skin as I stood completely mesmerized. I’d never seen waterfalls with that kind of power. Watching millions of gallons of water carve through rock made me feel small in the best possible way. Nature has a way of reminding you how incredible this world really is.

Sound

Of course, there were the obvious sounds: rushing rivers, waterfalls crashing into pools below, birds chirping from the trees, and gravel crunching beneath my hiking boots.

But the sounds I remember most were the conversations.

As a child, I was incredibly shy. Social anxiety followed me through much of my life, and even now it occasionally finds its way back. Before this trip, I promised myself I wouldn’t let it take up space. So I challenged myself to talk to people whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And I’m so glad I did!

Albertans are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Souvenir shop clerks started conversations. Bartenders asked about my travels while I sat writing postcards and sipping a local beer. I chatted with many people.

One conversation in particular has stayed with me.

I wore my Goorin Bros. ladybug hat on the hike up to the Lake Moraine viewpoint. Along the trail, a much older man stopped me and told me that his mother, who had passed away years earlier, always said that whenever he saw a ladybug, it was her way of reminding him she was still with him.

He was visibly emotional as he shared the story and asked if he could take a picture of my hat to send to his family group chat.

I don’t know exactly what I believe when it comes to signs and symbolism. But I do know that moment filled my heart. A complete stranger shared a deeply personal memory with me because of a ladybug stitched onto a hat. It’s amazing how quickly human beings can connect when we allow ourselves to be open to one another.

Smell

Truthfully, there aren’t many specific scents that stand out from this trip.

But that’s what also made it so memorable.

Away from the city and all of its mysterious smells, the Rockies felt impossibly clean. The air was crisp, fresh, and untouched. Every deep breath felt special and different.

It’s funny that one of the things I remember most is the absence of smell, specifically, the absence of pollution, congestion, and a massive city.

For five days, the air smelled like rain, pine trees, and open space.

And it was exactly what I needed.

The Rockies gave me far more than beautiful photos and stories from a solo trip. They reminded me that I am capable of giving myself a big experience and navigating it (imperfectly) alone as well. As a young woman doing this, there were many moments when I felt proud of myself simply because I am at a stage in life where I trusted myself enough to go on this adventure and be completley okay with having these memories mostly kept to myself and not with a partner, family member, or friend.

Years from now, I hope to sit at a dinner table with kids of my own and tell them about the time Mom took a bus to the mountains, hiked through the rain, be-friended strangers, and watched turquoise lakes appear under fog-covered peaks. I hope they’ll understand that the story isn’t really about the Rockies at all.