I grew up near the Canadian Rockies—well, about a seven-hour’s drive away, but in the Prairies, that’s considered a short drive. I don’t recall the first time I saw the mountains; they were just part of my childhood, like freezies on hot summer days and the feel of frozen air on my face in wintertime. Most summers, we’d pack up the station wagon, hitch on the Boler trailer and head to the Rockies. I remember how they’d rise out of the Prairies, like a mirage. It almost felt like passing through a gate into another world—one with rugged peaks and waterfalls tumbling into hot springs and mossy paths in the woods.
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