Of all the places I've ever visited, the Canadian Rockies are my favorite by a long stretch. Anyone who has ever visited Banff or Jasper National Park knows what I'm talking about. And whenever I encounter people who are patrons of the parks and they haven't been there yet, I always tell them it's a must see area. Seriously, the stretch of land between Banff and Jasper along the Columbia Icefield Parkway is mind blowing! You are surrounded by rugged, remote beauty in the form of towering, snowcapped mountains, flowing alpine rivers, glaciers, and abundant wildlife. Maybe it's hyperbole, but I feel like I've seen a bear almost every day on my excursions in the Canadian Rockies, sometimes a little too close for comfort. 
When I was in Glacier National Park on the journey to Banff, I remember hiking the Grinnell Glacier trail and encountering a bear with her two cubs. This is a high traffic trail in Glacier with a lot of folks who have spent minimal time in the outdoors and aren't always familiar with best practices to stay safe and also keep wildlife safe. Point in case, on this hike to Grinnell, people were not carrying bear spray which I feel is essential in grizzly areas and then, they were getting thisclose to a mom bear and her cubs to get that perfect photo for their Facebook. I mean, I saw a mom pose with her children 20 feet away from this bear while her partner snapped a photo. Bad idea folks. These animals are territorial and you are in their HOME. So please be respectful of the wildlife so that you and the animals are safe!
So anyway, I get sidetracked walking through the memories of my travels. I started thinking here about bears and bear safety and now I'm reliving the pandemic hiking moments where people just left mountains of toilet paper in the woods. Pack it out! Hopefully, it was a learning experience for many people about how to be better stewards of nature and use Leave No Trace principles. 

Okay, back to the Canadian Rockies. 

My initial trip to Banff and Jasper was kind of a rights of passage for me as a woman traveler. It was the first time other than Acadia National Park where I had set out on my own in my truck to a distant and remote wilderness setting. I drove from Seattle to Kamloops where I stayed for the night and then onto Jasper National Park. On this trip, I made a few campground reservations. Canadian Parks definitely roll out the red carpet for car campers: hot showers, cell phone charging stations, playgrounds. It is quite the change of pace from American national park campgrounds although this summer I did find showers at the campgrounds in Grand Tetons which was very much welcome. 
I had planned on staying for two weeks on my first trip to Canada, but the wildfires ended up cutting my trip short by a few days. 

The smoke was so bad that it completely obstructed my views of Lake Louise. I couldn't even see the mountains. Visibility was just a few yards. It was gnarly. I don't know if it's just me or if other people are affected this way but wildfire smoke makes my joints hurt, makes me swell and bloat, I have asthma that is only triggered by smoke, horrible headaches, negative thoughts. This had been definitely a downer over the last few years as there isn't a part of the west that hasn't been affected by wildfires during the warm months. It is increasingly getting worse year after year with minimal addition of resources to combat the issue. Draught continues to be issue as our planet's climate shifts and is negatively affecting the places we love and the wildlife that call these places home. 
I tried to make the most of my first trip to Canada despite the fires. I still did amazing things even though I cut my trip short. I went white water rafting, completed several hikes, visited art museums and galleries in the area, visited three parks: Yoho (my favorite), Banff, and Jasper. 
And Canada is very boondock friendly. There was one night where I thought I was parked in a good location to sleep for the night. When I find a spot, I don't usually hang out or build a fire or anything. I've usually been so physically active that day that all I want to do is cook and go to sleep. This night was the same, I just crawled into the back of my truck and was reading right before it got dark and saw a ranger pull up behind me. I was thinking "Oh crap, I'm in trouble" and the lady was so super nice and informed me that I was parked in a wildlife corridor and couldn't sleep there for the night. She asked me if I had a map on me and I gave it to her and she showed me where there was a large gravel parking lot just 20 minutes away that was free for people to park and camp overnight on. I was so incredibly grateful for her help in pointing me in the right direction to a place to park for the night. Even traveling down the Icefield Parkway has a place to park for the night. There is a huge lot right in front of the Athabasca Glacier where you can park for the night and sleep in your vehicle for a small fee. And the visitor center has a fantastic restaurant for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. 
The Athabasca Glacier itself is worth the drive. It was the first glacier I had ever encountered and very informational experience. When you walk the trail, it has signs that show you where the glacier was located ten years before, twenty, years before, thirty years before....this interpretive trail paired with my wildfire experience helped reinforce my understanding of global warming. The glacier has receded significantly over the last 100 years. 

I had another learning moment when I visited the Whyte Museum of the Canadian Rockies in Banff, Canada. I had hiked to Bow Glacier Falls the day before visiting the museum, and when I was walking around looking at artwork, I noticed a painting of the same area I had hiked the day prior. It was of the falls and in the painting, on top of the falls, sat this huge white mass, a glacier. The painting had been completed in the 1920s. I pulled out my phone and looked at the photograph I had taken of the falls from a similar viewpoint and the glacier was completely gone in my photograph as compared to the painting from 100 years ago. I've always been intrigued with art as a tool to document history and it was very interesting to see this visual documentation of the progression of the melting glacier over 100 years. Bittersweet knowing that I had connected with an artist from history through shared experience, but sad to know that our connection was at a loss. 

In additional to all the amazing experiences I've had in the area, I did manage to make it back to Canada earlier in the season the year after the fires were in full swing. I woke up super early one morning, I mean early, like 4 AM and drove from the gravel lot near Banff to Moraine Lake to complete a loop hike in that area. You have to get there early as this area fills up completely and they shut the road down by 8AM. I saw a lot of frustrated families get turned away because they hadn't done their research and planned their trip. I got up, drove up to the parking lot, and then got ready for the day, not the other way around. 
The Moraine Lake area is insanely beautiful. It's a glacial lake surrounded by the Valley of the Ten Peaks. The blue green water reflects the mountains like a mirror. You can rent canoes from the visitor center there which is where I got the idea for my painting. It was a perfect image of brightly colored canoes sat against the backdrop of towering peaks. If you google "Moraine Lake painting" you'll see several artists' rendition of this same scene. I am not the only one painting this scene, but as an artist, sometimes you are just drawn to beauty regardless of how many times that same scene has been illustrated. I actually enjoy seeing the way other artists interpret the same scene. Art is truly a labor of authenticity and uniqueness of self like a fingerprint. Shared experiences through art connect people from all backgrounds. Art is a language. 
I wouldn't say that I have one experience that influenced me to paint this specific scene of Moraine Lake, but more of a combination of experiences in the Canadian Rockies that has instilled in me a love of that area and a need to honor it through my art. I have several more scenes I would like to paint from my adventures there. Stay tuned!

I love paintings for different reasons. This one of a lake reflection in Medicine Bow National Forest is my favorite as far as technical skill goes. I was very happy with how it turned out: I love the texture in the different plants and rocks, I like the transparency of the water and seeing the rocks beneath the surface and the sky reflected in the water. I like the composition and the velvety nature of the brush strokes. I've painted four paintings so far of this area and also this experience. 
In addition to loving this painting because I love my technical development as an artist through this painting, I love it because THE EXPERIENCE!
I relocated all the way across the country this summer to upstate New York to spend time with my partner and best friend before he deploys next year. I spent the last part of my summer in Washington and Oregon visiting friends and doing a few backpacking trips before starting my drive across the country to Watertown, New York. It took me almost a week to make that drive. I drove it pretty much straight through. I had been adventuring since April and honestly, the funds were running low so I didn't sight see much on the way, just drove mile after mile after mile sleeping at KOA campgrounds, Walmart parking lots, and miraculously in this spot that I painted! It was the highlight of my drive across the country and possibly the most beautiful scenery I saw all summer including the month I spent in Colorado.
I had stopped in Salt Lake City to pick up the rest of my things that I left at my friend's house and decided to cut through Wyoming on the drive. At this point, I was very road weary. I had been driving 7 hours a day plus and if you've driven across the country, you know that there are parts of the US that make you hope you never have to make that drive again...NEBRASKA...cough cough...eastern Oregon to Boise...cough....
I had used iOverlander to scope out sleeping spots for the night near Laramie, Wyoming so my goal for the day was to get to Laramie and then get horizontal on my comfy bed in the back of my truck. Let me digress for a minute with an ode to Gertrude, my Nissan Frontier. I used to have a Toyota Tacoma, Johnny Utah. Yes, Johnny was rugged; big tires, 4 x 4, silver mid-sized beast, roomy, but screw the seats in that truck on a long drive! Tacomas are not made for long drives if you have big girly hips like I do and a bad back. My back killed me on long drives in the Tacoma. So before I left Seattle on my crazy adventure during the pandemic (I traveled to remote parts of the country living in my truck for eight months during the pandemic), I traded my Tacoma in for a Nissan Frontier. A cute, tiny Nissan Frontier and I got a Snugtop canopy for it. Then my friend and I built a bed platform with storage in the back of it. I bought a tri-fold memory foam mattress for the back of it and the back of my truck has literally become a place of refuge and peace for me. I mean, when I visit friends and they offer up their spare bed, I'm like "No, that's okay, I brought my bed with me." I'm a small person, 5'4" on a good day, and I can stretch out and be overly comfortable in the bed of my truck. My partner, on the other hand, cannot. His feet hang out the back window when we camp in the truck. He takes up alot of space, as men will do. Gertrude's seats are heated and literally the most comfortable seats I've ever had in a vehicle. I have zero back pain after a long drive in the Frontier and it still does all the truck things the Tacoma did, but with a little less clearance. I highly recommend if you're putting in the miles.
So on my way to Laramie, I hit the worst traffic I've ever been in. I mean miles and miles of stopped traffic for two hours. I had time to apply for three jobs in New York by using my phone as a hot spot to my laptop, make a sandwich on the tailgate, and take a nap. It was awful mostly because I had been chugging on water and there were zero places to pee without every single person on the highway seeing me do it. So when I got to Laramie, I was exhausted and wanted to the easiest place to stop hurtling through space on pavement at 80 miles an hour. Initially, I was going to sleep at a spot that was meh, but available. I think I had considered the Walmart in Laramie. Then I did a little more research and saw that there was a national forest nearby with mountains and a few first come, first serve campgrounds so I decided to push through the exhaustion to get something out of the drive. 

It only took me a extra 30 minutes of drive time to get into the national forest and I was rewarded with the view on the right! A beautiful alpine lake stretched before me, no traffic, just serene nature. I already felt the stress and tension of the road rolling off my shoulders as I drove further into the forest. 
I ended up at a trailhead and had hoped to sleep there for the night. There were signs that said no overnight camping there, but sometimes you try to get by that especially if backpackers are leaving their vehicles there overnight. I try to be respectful of policies 100% of the time, but sometimes you just need to park and crawl into the back of your truck and hide for 8 hours. I definitely understand why they have that policy especially with the rise of van life. You don't want a popular trailhead completely filled with van lifers. There was a campground right down the dirt road that I assumed would be full so I walked from the trailhead to the campground just to see and by sheer luck or fortune, I found the very last camping spot for the night and snagged it for the steep price of $10. I was overjoyed. I managed to make it to the campground in time to do some afternoon hiking in the area so I packed my gear and hit the trail. 

Absolutely stunning scenery. Wildflowers everywhere, bodies of water reflecting the stormy sky, petrified wood fossilized in the rocks, towering granite cliffs and boulders, it was everything you could ask for in a hike. I hiked about seven miles over a pass and into a valley before turning around due to weather. On the way back, the sky dumped rain. Just a downpour. And when I got back to the campground, an older man came up to me and asked it I had seen a women in her 60s on the trail. I told him I had not and asked what was up. He had said that the lady staying at one of the campsites had told him she was going on a hike and hadn't returned and he was worried about her with the bad weather rolling in. She ended up showing up shortly thereafter, and I could tell he was very relieved. One of my favorite things about the outdoor community is the way we look after one another in the wilderness. I have had several experiences on the trail that required help from strangers. I've given water purification tablets to long distance hikers who had lost their purification abilities and been without water for 24 hours, I've assisted in a search and rescue in a slot canyon in Utah where the hiker had to be airlifted out, I've been search and rescued myself in North Carolina on a backpacking trip after injuring both ankles on the Art Loab Trail. The wilderness community looks after one another because you know that it could happen to you. Being prepared, being aware, and having training in wilderness first aid is critical if you plan on spending extended amounts of time in the outdoors. Be safe! People get injured and die everyday in wilderness settings. 
When I got back to the campground, it was really pouring so I crawled into the back of my truck and made ramen, got out of my wet clothes, and went to sleep. 
The next morning I decided to explore another set of trails close the campground that passed by a large lake at the base of the Snowy Range. Damn! I was overwhelmed with beauty and it was very hard to pull myself away from the views to start driving again. I'm a big fan of minimalist, modern architecture like concrete structures with large windows and almost bare decor and zero clutter. Spaces like that help calm my mind and make it easier to focus. It streamlines my vibrations. The Snowy Range was nature's equivalent of that for me. It was simple in its beauty; just these huge towering white walls of granite that plunged into crystal clear waters reflecting blue sky. There was a beautiful order to it and lack of chaos. Even the boulder field I crossed through seemed manicured and not chaotic even though the very definition of a boulder field would be chaos through erosion. It was silent except for the wind blowing across the water. And I love silence. Noise is the equivalent of clutter to me and it complicates my mind and thoughts. I sat on the lake shore that morning and just took it all in. I didn't want to leave and that spot amplified the fact that I knew I was leaving the beloved western United States landscape that fills my heart with so much joy. I was choosing to move across the country for a person I loved that didn't have the ability to join me in the places I long to be. It was a beautiful and bittersweet moment that filled me with dread but also gratitude because I was reminded of all the beautiful experiences I've had over the last ten years that most people only ever experience through photos or social media posts. 
Eventually, I had to hit the road again. That day I crossed into Nebraska. They were stark contrasts in experience. The Snowy Range in Medicine Bow National Forest was the one moment of peace and rest I had on the long drive across the United States and it will always hold a special place in my nomad heart. I've painted four paintings so far from just the 12 hours I spend in that location and I think it's my way of transporting myself back to that place and experience.

You would never think that this mountain gem is surrounded by arid desert in all directions. The Uinta Mountains are just an hour and a half drive from Salt Lake City. It's an incredible place for all types of recreational activities during all seasons: hiking, backpacking, riding horses, dirtbiking, snowmobiling, snowshoeing, trout fishing...I mean the list goes on. And one of the best things about the Uintas is that is almost all dispersed camping. There are sites all along the Mirror Highway where you can boondock to your heart's delight! I've never had a hard time finding a place to camp for the night and several trailheads are available if all the dispersed sites are taken. There are also a few developed campgrounds if you're looking for more civilized accommodations. 
This was almost the last hike of the warm season for me before the snow hit. I ended up driving out to the Unitas because I had been getting a bit of city fever. I had started teaching again in Salt Lake City and had gone from a summer of adventure back to getting up at 5:30 AM to commute in traffic to a very enjoyable but demanding job. I needed a weekend away in the woods, so I looked on Alltrails and found a popular hike in the area. Then, I hopped on iOverlander and found boondock sites close to the trailhead. 
If you're an outdoor enthusiast or enthusiast of anything seasonal (including pumpkin spice anything...ew gross), you know the anxiety and pressure there is to experience as much of that activity you can before the season ends. For me, it's hiking. When I moved away from Seattle there was a little bit of relief because I felt less pressure to crush it every weekend: wake up at 4;30 AM or even sleep at the trail head to make a summit time and back to the car before daylight ends, driving several hours to complete a hike and getting a parking spot at the trailhead, fighting Seattlites for parking spaces and camping spots. When I got to Utah, things slowed down quite a bit. Unless you're going to the national parks, parking is not a problem...you will find a camp spot....just drive out into the desert and there you are. However, I still felt the need to go out and get it done one more weekend before the snow set in especially after getting back into a habit of being off the road and on the job. 
It was September when I did this hike. The day was warm and to be honest, when I was packing the truck, I did it quickly and did not bring the proper sleeping bag. During the summer, I always keep my truck packed with my camping gear so I can just hit the road on a moments notice but at that point I had removed some of my gear including my cold weather sleeping bag. I checked the weather and was like "Oh, I should be okay with two quilts." Yeah, no. It was super cold that night. When I got to the trailhead I thought about sleeping there but kept driving down the forest service road looking for a prime spot with a view, fire pit....

I ended up finding the most amazing spot in an open field with epic views of the valley, a huge fire pit, and conveniently next to the site were slash piles the forest service had set up that are ideal for fire kindling. I layered up and started a fire to help keep the cold away. As I've mentioned before in another post, much of the land in Utah is open range so cattle can graze during the warmer months. It was pitch black except for fire light and I heard footsteps approaching me out of the darkness. Camping alone in the wilderness and not having a light source, my heart was pounding. I was thinking worst case scenarios....bears, drunk dudes, Sasquatch...and poof....fear subsided when I saw a herd of cows black camouflaged by the darkness of night creeping closer to the fire for warmth or possibly curiosity. It was nice to have the company! They ended up hanging out all night and slept around the truck. I woke up the sound of their early morning moos as they moved off in search of food.
I woke up to ice on my car, gray skies, and rain. I had not expected so much rain and was honestly disappointed. I drove to the trailhead and sat in my truck hoping it would subside, It didn't and I put on my rain gear: rain pants, jacket, gloves and decided to hit the trail anyway after putting in the effort to drive all the way out there and sleep in the freezing cold under a thin quilt. 

The rain wasn't just a light drizzle. It was a downpour. I mean, there was a small river of water flowing down the trail as I made my way up to the first lake. I passed several backpackers headed out due to rain. My mood was morose. Every step I was thinking "Why am I out here? Is this even worth it? I could just turn around." I got to the first lake, Wall Lake, and took in the views and thought to myself "Man, this would be an epic spot if it wasn't raining and completely enveloped in fog." I checked the map and followed the trail around the lake and up to a small rock wall. I decided I was already soaking wet, my pack was completely wet, might as well keep going just to check it off the list. 
A group of horses and riders passed me on the trail which was a moment of happiness. Their dog was super friendly and kept bringing me sticks to throw for it until the riders called the dog away to continue on. After they passed and I made it to the next lake, a miraculous thing happened and the rain cleared up! I mean beautiful blue skies appeared like the rain had just been a figment of my imagination. 
The scene that I painted from this hike was right after it cleared up and I was able to get the most amazing lake reflections that the area was known for. On the hike, you pass several big and small lakes, and they are like a mirror reflecting the trees and sky. Hence the name, Mirror Lake Highway. I was so incredibly grateful I kept going because I was rewarded with epic view after epic view. And that is exactly why we do what we do: we put in mile after awful soul crushing mile to get to that one view that makes it all worth the effort and pain. 

I was able to complete the loop with fantastic weather and every other hiker I passed shared the same joy as me that we had stuck it out and the reward had totally been worth it! I had hoped to make it back to that area during the summer for an overnighter, but I never found the time. And I guess that's life? We hope that we will make it back some day but time only moves in one direction and you're only really in one place once. I'm grateful I got to experience the Uintas as much as I did. While I lived in Utah I got to hike, camp, snowshoe, and snowmobile in that area and it was an amazing experience!

lThis painting holds significant weight for me as an artist for many reasons. The first being that it was the first painting I sold through my website. A friend from Georgia bought it who has been a long time patron of my artwork! This was a huge milestone for me as a working artist. It was the moment that all my hard work and effort literally paid off! Second, the bones in this painting pay homage to one of the desert greats, Georgia O'Keefe. It wasn't until I started living in the desert that I understood her love of the landscape. For me, the desert washed my soul clean the way the desert sun bleaches and cleans the bones featured in this painting. Smooth, quiet, calm...it's hard to describe, but the desert became a place for me to heal from some of my past trauma as well as battle depression that I've been managing over the last few years. And sometimes I think about not sharing that part of myself with my followers, but I feel that mental health should be talked about openly because having community makes it easier to get help and support if you need it! For me, traveling, having new experiences, making art, chasing sunshine all help me see the beauty in life!

Third, this painting also highlights the general vibe of the area along with a major landmark near Moab, Utah. I am not a rock climber, but I have several friends who are and the rock tower seen in the background is a popular climbing tower in Castle Valley near Moab. The old pickup truck complete with rust and bone decor is a common site in the area. 

On my last trip to Moab before I left Utah (hopefully not forever), I spent some time in Castle Valley hiking along the washes in the area. It's a really nice area if you're trying to get away from the crowds of Moab and Arches National Park. You still get epic views of the desert landscape as well as epic views of the Colorado River as it flows through the canyon without the traffic. 

On trips prior, I had driven to this trailhead but never really hiked around the area. The last time I went, it was full blown winter and couldn't make it all the way to the trailhead. Originally, I had wanted to paint out here. Last summer I had plans of doing a lot of en plein air painting as I traveled, but after painting a few horrible landscapes, I abandoned that dream and decided to just enjoy the hiking and scenery and wait until I was back in the studio to create. It's also hard for me to find time to sit down and sketch while I'm out hiking or traveling. There's so much to see and do and I want to see and do it all so to carve out an hour or two to sit down and paint is a very hard thing for me to do. I'm definitely more of a studio artist. I'm learning how to slow down. 
When I got out to the trailhead, I didn't really have an agenda. I remember being pretty exhausted that day and the wind was howling so I dropped my tailgate, ate a sandwich, then napped in the back of my truck for about an hour before heading out on a hike. I just strolled along some of the trails and took in the Juniper trees and cactus that had just started to bloom in the area. Occasionally, I saw a lizard or rabbit scurrying along. I didn't encounter anyone on my hike and that is one my favorite things about the desert. There is an endless expanse of land and sky so it makes being alone very easy. You don't have to try real hard to be a loner in the desert. You can literally just disappear into the landscape. I have a bad habit of wanting to spend time alone. It's peaceful and low stress. I grew up as an only child so I'm very good at entertaining myself. 
I didn't hike too long on this hike because storm clouds started rolling in, maybe four miles round trip. The landscape, however, was legit just in that short walk.  I did watch two climbers summit the tower while I was there. 
When I got back to the trailhead, this old red truck was parked next to my Nissan Frontier. If there is one thing about Moab, it's that you can let your freak flag fly as high as you want. It's not uncommon to see people fueling up at the gas station or resupplying at the small grocery store who look like they've stepped out of Mad Max. It's also not uncommon to encounter people who make you wonder if they've spent a little too much time in the desert. Desert crazy is a thing. On the antenna of this truck were cow vertebrae stacked on top of one another. This wasn't the first truck I've seen with this decor in the desert. I've also seen a lot of cow skulls mounted to the front of trucks. Life goals. 
I had a cow vertebrae in my truck that I had picked up on the second night I spent in Utah when I first moved there a year and a half prior. I had boondocked on an open mesa near Price, Utah and found the scattered bones of a dead cow while I was taking a walk. Also, not uncommon. Much of land in Utah is open range which means cattle are set loose during the warm months to feed on the open land. So bones are everywhere. A reminder of the harsh and unforgiving landscape. 
I took my cow bone out of my truck and added it to others on the red truck's antenna before I left to find a place to camp for the night. I felt it was a good way to wrap up my journey in Utah. The bone I collected at the start of my journey remained in the desert in a type of real life mobile art installation. 
I think about the desert often. I'm staring out my window right now at the snow falling in upstate New York and my mind drifts to the silent landscape, the warm breeze, the way the light dances along the cliffs and red rocks, the shade of the Juniper tree, the hyperawareness of water sources, and ability to disappear for days into the arid landscape. I look forward to experiencing it all again someday. Until then, I can relive those moments through my artwork. I use my art as a form of mediation that help transport me back to those precious moments when I feel alive on the road. 

This story is probably my favorite of all my painting adventure stories. I've never met a single person that wasn't completely blown away by the Canadian Rockies. It's like the Rockies of United States but on steroids. The Canadian Parks Service also treats you like royalty when you visit: hot showers and cell phone charging stations at campgrounds, open 24 hour parking lots that are free or low rates for staying for the night in your van or vehicle. I've loved it so much, I've visited two summers in a row. I would have made it a third summer in a row, but the pandemic happened. 
The first year I visited Banff and Jasper National Park, it was an awful wildfire year. I ended up cutting my three week trip short to just ten days. The smoke was so intense you couldn't even see the mountains from Lake Louise. On my drive home back to Seattle, I drove by forests literally on fire. I could see the fire line from the road. I have controllable asthma unless I'm around fire smoke. Then it's gnarly. So I abandoned ship that summer and headed to the Oregon coast instead. Those coastal winds do an incredible job of keeping the smoke inland. 
The summer after the bad wildfire year was when I did the hike featured in my painting "Atop Cirque Peak, Banff, Canada." I went earlier in the season (July rather than August) to hopefully avoid fire season. I timed it just right! I encountered only a few snow patches on my hikes and I missed the smoke entirely!
This hike was a huge confidence booster for me. The year prior I had taken several courses with the Mountaineers in Olympia, Washington. The Mountaineers is a non-profit organization that offers outdoor recreation, safety, and navigation courses to the greater Seattle community. The course I took with the Olympia branch was called "Alpine Scrambling." This class included things that, as a Georgia girl, terrified me. Snow hiking terrified me. Crampons? Hell no! It's slippery and cold and icy and people like get injured and fall off mountains...or at least that's how I perceived it when I started taking the class. The alpine srambling class taught basic ice ax and crampon skills as well as rock scrambling techniques with guided hikes to gain experience with new skills. Had I not taken that course, this hike would have never happened. 
I started this hike on a whim. I had been in the Banff area for a few days and was driving the Icefields Parkway towards Jasper and wanted to stop and do some hikes along the way. I had not planned on summiting Cirque Peak. It was more "I'm going to meander through this mountain valley until I get to Helen Lake or get tired and then turn around" kind of intention. The valley itself was mind blowing. Just a short uphill push through trees and you ended up with 360 degree views of a green mountain valley with snow capped peaks, marmots, flowing alpine streams, and an alpine lake. It was incredible. 

I had downloaded the map on Gaia and Alltrails prior to starting the hike and had planned on going to an overlook just above Helen Lake and then turning around. When I got to the overlook, I knew there was a scramble up the peak because I had seen it in an alpine scrambling book at a gift shop in Banff. I studied the mountain trying to route find while taking a snack break. It looked gnarly from afar. I decided to get closer to investigate. I was alone on this trip, as with most of my trips, and whenever I'm traveling solo, I'm much more concerned with safety and less likely to take risks. When I got closer to the start of the scramble, a group of four people came over the ridge. They were headed in the direction of Cirque Peak and they stopped to chat about the route. They asked me if I knew the way and I told them I had downloaded the map. I pointed out the general route. They didn't have a map with them and were just winging it which blew me away. I'm a stickler for maps especially in wilderness areas. They asked me if I was headed up and I told them I was unsure because I was hiking solo and didn't feel comfortable going alone. They invited me to come along with them so I took them up on their offer. I was stoked that a group had invited me to tag along! I had spent several days alone in the wilderness at this point and human interaction was very much appreicated. 
I was glad I downloaded the Gaia route because the route was all exposed rock, scree, and boulders. A few places required stemming up through cracks in boulders with scary exposure. Whenever we encountered a difficult section, I was able to see the route and get us back on track. 
The group was incredibly fast and I definitely was out of my comfort zone keeping up with them. As we hiked, I got to know them and their story. They were a group of Catholic priests who took a trip each year together. I felt a little uncomfortable as I am not a religious person by any means. I often struggle with organized religion and the roles they confine women to, the way they idolize the male and consider them to be the chain that links women to salvation. I am, however, respectful of faith and a spiritual person at heart. I find my spirituality through nature. 
I ended up hiking with the female of the group for most of the hike. Two of the men charged ahead and one of the guys hiked a little slower than us. 
I was so relieved and stoked when we made it to the summit. It was a hard hike! Definitely a hike that had you told me a year prior I would be on, I would have said you were crazy. Lots of sliding scree, exposure, rock scrambling, a few snow patches. 

On the way down, I ended up hiking with one of the priests for the majority of the hike. He asked me what brought me to Canada and why I was traveling solo. At the time, I had recently separated from my ex-husband and had just started the solo female traveler vibe I've been maintaining for the last four years. I was riding high on the new found freedom I was feeling and the boost of confidence I was getting from traveling and experiencing the outdoors as an independent woman. I had spent my entire adult life traveling and making plans with a partner, and now I had all this freedom to explore and experience life authentically on my own. I was also carrying around emotional weight. Getting divorced is not easy especially when you've been through so much and grown up with your partner. The priest, as they do, was a sort of counselor on the hike. I could tell he was offering heartfelt guidance and an opportunity for me share my trials and tribulations as a newly divorced woman in her mid-30s. When we got to the parking lot, he came up to me and asked if he could pray for me for safety and guidance on my trip. Again, not religious, but I appreciate the energy of prayer. So we prayed together in the parking lot before parting ways. Perhaps a higher force was looking out for me on my journey? They say Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers....
It was one of my favorite hiking experiences. I was feeling lonely at this point on my trip and I happened to stumble upon a group of strangers who offered companionship on a scary hike I would have never completed on my own. I made a connection with people very different from myself and ultimately ended up taking some emotional weight off my shoulders without feeling judged or mistreated. I summited a serious mountain and gained epic views and difficult scrambling experience! It was one of many highlights of my second trip to Banff. 
I painted the view from the summit of Cirque Peak as a way to commemorate my experience as well as give myself time to wander through the memories the way I wandered through the mountain valley: with intention but open to the new experience and whatever it may bring with it. I'm grateful for the experience and the people I shared it with!