When my people came west

they didn't come any further than this, and they only stayed for a couple of summers. My mom was a chambermaid at the Banff Springs Hotel for two summers when she was in college; my sister has a fantastic picture of her and her friend Rosemary (they called each other "Sis") in very early 60s trenchcoats and careful curls, hitchhiking their way to Banff.



I had dinner at the hotel tonight, in pilgrimage. It was mediocre and expensive, as I expected, though the duck confit appetizer was good, and I was surrounded by seniors on coach trips. (Of course, I'm still kinda on eastern time, so I was eating mighty early). But I enjoyed every minute of it.

It was a good day. After spending a really nice evening with my remarkable cousin in Calgary, I kind of took the day off, drove just 90 minutes, wandered banff picking up things like a much-needed new wallet and a pair of hiking pants, then went for a snowy hike in Lake Louise. Will write separately of the hike -- but realized, when I had a chance to slow down, that this trip has been amazingly restorative. I'm loving my country, and my car, and the sense of driving too fast toward the mountains, my friend Kat's voice serenading me and out the open sunroof.