For anyone who is a fan of The Office (the U.S. version, not the even better U.K. one), there was a quote by Ed Helm’s character Andy (in the mostly-crappy post Steve Carrell seasons) that I am reminded of tonight. He said, and I apologize if I get it slightly wrong because I am going by memory alone, “I wish there was a way to tell we were in the good old days while we were still in them.” It was probably the most poignant, meaningful line of dialog in the entire series. I am thinking about, contemplating what it means to me, because of Karen earlier this evening.
Today we left our lovely campsite near Banff and made the short drive northwest to Lake Louise. We skipped the highway, and elected instead to travel the more scenic Route 1A, the Bow Valley Parkway. This route snakes along the valley created by the Bow River (strange coincidence!) and was just the right speed for us.
The road snakes through seemingly endless stands of towering pines. At times the road ahead looked like a hallway. But peeking out above the forest at all times were the towering peaks of the surrounding mountains. There were lots of pull-offs offering wide vistas of the surrounding country. That feeling of smallness, which we’ve both spoken of in the past, came flooding back.
What we find really interesting is that these are the Rocky Mountains. The same range we visited in Rocky Mountain National Park. The same range we visited in Glacier National Park. The same range we followed from Glacier to here, including a stunning drive through Kootenay National Park in Canada. The range stayed the same, but the views are vastly different.
Outside Denver, the Rockies are incredibly tall, much taller than most here. And many of them carry permanent snowfields at their summits. Yet it many ways they are “gentler” looking than their more northern cousins. In Glacier, we noticed the range had lowered in overall altitude yet became more rugged, more jagged, than in RMNP. That continued as we moved further north into Banff. The cragginess has multiplied and the starkness of the peaks is more pronounced. It feels somehow more desolate, more severe near these summits. But the same beauty exists.
Our home for the next two nights sits just 2.5 miles down-mountain from Lake Louise, undoubtedly the most well-known icon of this park. We are mere steps from the same Bow River we followed all day. The water is the most unearthly shade of aquamarine I have ever seen in nature. We are completely surrounded by 50′ tall pines. They give the air the unmistakable scent that takes us back to our many trips to Maine, nostalgia hitting us strong.
We were able to take a wonderful stroll along the Bow River before dinner. The trail crosses over the river and back, affording great views of both it and the surrounding valley. It was quiet and peaceful. At about the halfway point, Karen made a detour to feel the water. It was every bit as cold as expected, but felt incredibly “clean”.
As we were walking back from the river to the trail Karen said, “If this isn’t living our best life, I don’t know what is.”
That comment stuck with me until I sat down to write this post. Truth be told, I had to ask her exactly what she said because I couldn’t remember it precisely. But I knew the feeling it invoked because of the truth it revealed. We are so fortunate to be able to live the life we are living. Even with the bumps along the road (quite literally), this really is the best life. And that goes for whether we are seeing this amazing land, coast to coast, or sitting in our back yard in Bay Village. This is living our best life.
And so, in rebuke to Andy, I don’t have to wait. I know these are the good old days. And I truly wish the same for you.
Leave a Reply