When I went camping in Canada knowing I was going camping
This has been my longest trip so far that I attempt to capture for this blog. It is going to be difficult to paint an accurate enough portrait of this whole experience with words, and if I want to keep it real, I’ll need to add some of the not so idyllic aspects that kept it from being absolutely perfect. Mostly, I look forward to my picture selection, as I have probably taken some of my favorite ever photographs during this time (and sometimes a picture is worth more than 1000 words).
As it always is with my intense workload, the Friday before leaving, the notion that I’d be setting foot in Calgary and sleeping on the ground for two weeks in less than 24h seemed absurd and unreal. And as it always is with my intense workload, it took me at least 2-3 days to finally feel like I was there. I arrived completely jet-jagged and not expecting the heat I was received with setting food outside of the airport (this seems to be a common theme in all my travel blog posts this year).
I had been looking forward to this trip for a while, especially since my first (unexpected) camping experience ever one year ago in California had turned out so amazing. And I guess I was used to these things ALWAYS turning out that way, to always end up meeting special, engaging new friends. But this element in particular, at least in the beginning, turned out rather disappointing. Our small group (8 people) was comprised of Germans and Swiss. In itself, that shouldn’t be a bad thing, regardless of my initial desire to get away from the Germanic culture for a while and interact in a more international manner. But at least at first, they all seemed to fit the stereotypical criteria: quiet, a bit stiff. Not a lot of personal questions, not a lot of fun conversation. With a rather apathetic dynamic at first (even Ellie agreed, worrying that they were all just not having fun), I was met with many conflicting feelings and thoughts. Perhaps I was being too judgmental and not open-minded enough. Perhaps it was a matter of time. Then again, isn’t that something I sometimes do? Not trusting my gut, over-rationalizing? What if I was too demanding? What if I just felt some sort of resentment for having to speak German, the “language of work”, during my vacation? I tried to just be myself, but my standard outgoing character and openness seemed rather histrionic in contrast to the rest when it came to communication, and that made me feel extravagant at first. In the beginning, I found reassurance in Ellie and Antonio, though, who both seemed to vibrate at similar frequencies. And then at a later point, I connected with Melanie at an also deeper level and found myself laughing with her to the point of belly soreness.
Eventually, I didn’t care about anything other than being genuine and making the best out of the experience.
As for the actual trip… Nearly every new sight, every new destination left me speechless sooner or later (and I mean the good kind of speechless, not the exasperating shoulder-shrug kind at the sight of waterfalls “ist schön, aber nichts besonderes” or food “haut mich halt nicht vom Stuhl runter”).
Somehow, we ended up sharing tents, which differed from my experience in California. The good part: more speed and efficiency in terms of putting them up and taking them down. The downside: a serious lack of privacy. Still, I managed to get used to it pretty fast. My general attitude seemed to be that as long as I could somehow take a shower every day, I’d be fine, considering the limited time of the experience.
With the help of Ellie and aaaaall the books I managed to get my hands on, I learned so much about the history and geology of the Rockies, about the animal species inhabiting them, their behaviors and patterns, traditions and customs of the native population, and even environmental and political issues. As always, learning is one of the most beautiful aspects of traveling. And it can be done in an introspective, personal level under any circumstances.
It's impossible to write a whole paragraph on 14 days respectively without entering the novel realm, so these are my favorite highlights:
- The day-long hike from Lake Louise to the Big Beehive, along a forested trail, passing by Mirror Lake and cascading waterfalls, and the shores of Lake Agnes. I got to spot so many different species of mammals and birds. They were everywhere, and it was very wholesome to see that amount of wildlife thriving happy and free. There were many tourists, but the higher we got the more they dissipated. Still, all trails were clean and well-kept and people seemed to be environmentally conscious and respectful as a general rule. As the cherry on top, we even managed to find the owner of a forgotten wallet (thank you, Facebook).
- Canoeing in Wells Gray. I’d been kayaking before, but never canoeing. And doing so in Clearwater Lake was beautiful and invigorating. As it is the case with any activity involving physical exercise, I felt alive and healthy, which is my favorite way to feel. The air was impeccable and fresh in the early morning hours and once in Cariboo Beach, there was NOTHING to be heard except for the water, the wind and the birds. Needless to say, none of my travels buddies was up for an intentional, engaging conversation, so I ended up deriving it from our local canoeing instructor, the Chilean woman accompanying us and Ellie, which turned out a lot of fun. I got stung by a horse fly right by my jugular with an anatomical precision that made me question whether animals in Western Canada went to medical school as well.
- Kamloops lookout point. Because that’s where I got to hug Jordyn a year after meeting her in Italy. I got to meet Colby as well, and chatting with them for 40 minutes was just great (and welcomed proof that my troubles to get close with my current group had definitely to do with external, cultural related factors). We reminisced about Italy, updated each other on current events in our lives, talked about future plans and decided we needed to meet up in Europe again. She looked beautiful and seemed so happy. Who would have thought I would actually get to see her and talk to her in person after that last crazy night of running around in Rome, with Clay and his brother and all of our lost minds.
- The day in Whistler. I already wrote a brief blog post on this one. But mountain biking on my own was exhilarating and exciting and I am glad I didn’t fall off a cliff and hit my head because I don’t know who would have found me. Also, sleeping right next to a river under a full moon was magical. Dinner at that pub was delicious and going out after unexpected, but also fun. I left sooner than the rest to oblige to my pledge of taking a shower every day. After getting an Uber, I walked half a mile to the showers and back by myself, well aware of the existence of bears roaming around camp sites. But I guess that’s the price of hygiene sometimes. I’d rather be clean and dead than covered in mountain bike dirt overnight.
- Our whale watching tour in Tofino. The day started off rainy and grey. I did NOT feel like freezing my butt on a zodiac for three hours. But once there, in my XXL-sized water-resistant one-piece, facing the natural beauty of the Esowista Peninsula through my wind-proof goggles, I felt a completely different way. More so when we got to see countless groups of sea otters, some gigantic grey whales, a seal colony, puffins… Once again, it was incredibly rewarding and heartwarming to experience these animals in their natural habitat. Undisturbed, protected, numerous and seemingly happy. Plus, as time went by, the weather progressively cleared, turning into a bight, beautiful sunny morning that culminated with us eating out lunch at a beautiful, secluded beach.
- Long Beach. It was quite a contrast to end up on the Pacific shores after almost two weeks of camping in the mountains. Everyone went surfing except for Antonio (triathlete) and some of the girls, and I. I took my camera and went for a two-hour long walk on the never ending shore, rejoicing in every beautiful detail I could find on the sand, taking pictures of the waves, the birds, the light, the horizon and singing out loud without the fear of being heard. I could observe through my lens how the light changed with the passing of time, and the more passionate tones of blue and orange slowly transitioned into pastel pinks and ocres as the sun went down. It remains a mystery to me how such a place could be that empty. At one point, I found myself completely alone on a vast field of sand, surrounded by the soft shapes of water-sculptured sand formations, rocks, pine trees and the beautiful light of the sunset filtering thought them. I could smell the ocean, feel the breeze. It was the perfect sight, the perfect temperature, the perfect light. That amount of beauty all around me brought tears of joy and gratitude to my eyes. I decided that was going to be one of those moments I needed to put into a small mental flask to take out in those occasions in life where I need to be reminded of how vividly beautiful the world is. Without a doubt, one of the most memorable experiences.
Canada is such an enormous country, and in two hectic, full weeks I’ve only managed to see a tiny portion of Alberta and British Columbia. I can’t imagine the amount of awe evoking places I have yet to discover. I think I am developing a deeper love for (North American) national parks in general, as so far, they seem to have such an impact on me. It’s the raw, ancient natural beauty. The contrast between the harshness on winter and the gentleness of summer and the beauty in the resilience of all these species to survive and thrive through it all (as long as they remain undisturbed). I wonder about Yellowstone, Alaska… There are many places I’d like to see and at least for now, it looks as though I might be able to keep traveling this way for a while.
Overall, I feel regenerated. I am very happy to have met Ellie and my new Melanie (H.), who have inspired me, and who have managed to bring out that side of me I love the most with their humor, outlook and general positivity.
PS.: I did end up breaking my shower promise, as I skipped it on the last day, after getting back from Victoria to our campsite to find a settlement of 3 loud families, their babies and dogs right next to our tents. I flew back the next afternoon. Time difference, jet-lag and general confusion make calculations a bit difficult, but if I’m correct at least 55 hours went by before I could set foot on a shower. Last time that happened I was 8, spending the night in Las Mercedes with school. I suffered a lot that day and my mom had to pick me up early.
