We Americans often have a laugh at the expense of our
Canadian neighbors. But accent and teeth jokes aside, the Canadian Rockies are
breathtaking. Henry David Thoreau would literally have a field day if he were
alive and had the opportunity to hide away in this wilderness.
Being an avid outdoors lover, I found
hike. It is a general consensus that
is a jewel to nature aficionados. The fresh air and clean bodies of water,
however large or small, charm even those who are not so inclined to the great
outdoors. Hiking to the top of a mountain not only makes you feel invincible,
but the number of squirrels and mountain goats that greet hikers is reminiscent
of a Disney movie.
Another point of interest is
only a few hours’ drive from
This body of water is a beautiful and clear aquamarine blue, nestled in the
green and misty gray-white of the neighboring mountains. The Fairmont Hotel
stands at the bank of the lake as a reminder of how expensive it is to have
such a picture-perfect view.
From the lake, there are numerous trails that take hikers up
the surrounding mountains to remote little teahouses perched at the end of
miles-long hikes. The people who work at these teahouses have to hike down to
the base of the mountain to take out the trash every few days and then bring up
more supplies. All this has to be done by foot since there are no roads leading
up to these isolated cabins.
On a more somber note, a visit to the Colombian Ice Fields
gave me quite a shock. My family and I took a similar trip some nine years ago,
and the impact of global warming is undeniably evident in the recession of
these beautiful glaciers. The ice has thinned and there are large patches of
mud and dry rock where there used to be foot after foot of solid ice. Perhaps
in another couple of decades, there may not be any glaciers or ice fields to
visit, merely a large valley.
My recommendation is that you take the opportunity to see
the best of what is left of these natural wonders before they disappear
forever.
But seriously, if you should ever want to sound your
barbaric yawp á la “Dead Poet’s Society” or commune with nature, you just may
want to cross the border — the northern border, that is.
