XOXO Canmore

“When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad…”
—Rogers and Hammerstein, My Favorite Things

Mountainside wildlife.

This love letter should come as no surprise. Our family’s roots run deep in Alberta. My father was born Lethbridge, and I have memories of visits to not one, but two sets of grandparents.

Close to twenty years ago, we ventured into this little town—this Valhalla. Canmore is where I fell in love with Dave. It’s where our lives came together, and our hearts lie still.

Canmore overlook at sunrise.

It seems every April, like clockwork, the urge to go north sets in. Dave dreams about crystal clear lakes and rugged mountains. We binge-watch all the movies we can find that use the Canadian Rockies as a location. We crave poutine. In essence, we shift gears.

Spray Lake.

What’s outside your window?

Canmore Golf and Curling Club.

Bow River evening walk.

Not unlike the Canadian geese who winter in Arizona, in May, we take flight—only to return to the desert by November.

September in the Canadian Rockies.

But this year is different for everyone. Isolation is not by choice, it’s mandatory. CoVid-19 continues to take its toll on the lives and livelihoods of so many worldwide.

So we all wait, hope for better days ahead, and remember our favorite things.

Despite fires, floods, and global pandemics, Canmore, you will always be our home away from home. XOXO.

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Jura Creek Trail

I wouldn’t call Jura Creek a hike—I’d call it an adventure. Located by the Baymag plant on Highway 1A, the trailhead is far from ostentatious. In fact, it’s practically non-existent—the official site is currently under construction. That aside, Dave and I were pleasantly surprised. The real fun began about a quarter mile in at the mouth of the slot canyon. 

The mouth of the canyon

This hike was more like an obstacle course through flowing water—consisting of scaling boulders, crossing deep pools on single logs and stepping cautiously from rock to rock. About a mile in, it became apparent to Dave and I that dry feet were not gonna happen. 

A smooth piece of Jasper in the creek.

Jura creek was robust, thanks to recent snowmelt. We made our way through a maze of deep, narrow passageways, filled with pools and mini waterfalls. The high walls were cold and damp with sunlight just starting to find it’s way through the opening. Exquisite.

The canyon opened up into a large, rocky creek bed. As we progressed, the creek dried up and the hiking became a little tedious. It did however, give us plenty of time for our feet to dry.

Canyon’s end, nearing the creek bed.

Eventually, we came upon a huge headwall. Dave and I looked at each other, both wondering if we should try to scale it. Hmmm. On the right, super smooth stone that was pretty vertical. To the left, a wall of rock with a v-like formation. A stream of water was flowing down the center. Others have done this—right? Don’t we want to see what’s up there? What the heck. We chose the V.

To the top of the headwall.

In hindsight, it looked a lot harder to climb than it actually was. At the top were a series of pools captured in smooth white stone. We gazed down into deep crevices where the creek graced us with it’s reappearance.

Peering into the cracks.

The trail turned into a creek bed once more. For us, it was the perfect turn-around point. Our return trip was not nearly as graceful. I guess it never really is. We sloshed back through the running creek with reckless abandon, the canyon then filled with sunlight and warmth.

Jura Creek is a well-hidden gem. Selfishly, we both kinda hope it stays that way.

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