My Calgary Dream Vacation Getaway (Day Two, or Three, I'm not sure of the Metric Equivalent)

Dudley Do-Right Loves Banff

Part Deux of the Canadian Travel Saga. I know, you're wondering "how could there possibly be more?" Oh, but there is. There is.

Because after exploring Calgary, I headed up to Banff, international travel destination and ski resort. That's right, I go to ski towns in the middle of summer. "Canadian summer" is something of a non-sequitur; this day felt like a January day in Houston. It reached the mid-50s in Banff, perfect for walking and hiking. You could tell it was summer only because snow drifts weren't covering everything and people had on only two layers of clothing, not five.

I started the day dragging out of bed and schlepping a couple of blocks to the local YMCA branch for a vigorous workout. Using the new calisthenics routines everyone's talking about. That means I stretched and lifted, working around my nagging 50 year old guy injuries. Interesting watching pasty white Canadians working out; Casper the Friendly Ghost thinks these people should get some more sun.

After cleaning up just a bit (hiking loomed ahead, and two showers in one day? Not water-friendly), and having missed the hotel's dismal but free breakfast ("free" and "just downstairs" goes a long way), I walked a block to Cora's Restaurant, a local chain breakfast and lunch place. Cora's is one of those places where the menu contains more photos and drawings of the food than descriptions. Its like Denny's, only the servers have all their teeth and food poisoning wasn't on the menu. In other words, it was pretty good. Having worked up a big boy appetite, I had pretty much the right side of one page of the menu-an oatmeal trough, and a monstrous spinach, cheese, and mushroom omelette. With gluten free (probably) toast (cause, you know, the oatmeal didn't supply enough carbs by itself). Oh and breakfast potatoes. My morning Starch-O-Rama for sure. My waitress was especially perky, energetic, friendly, and smiling. Basically I wanted to pour maple syrup on her and tie her to an ant mound. But fortunately for her, I was too busy stuffing my face to act out on such impulses. And I had no time to work on dating.

Having taken on board a normal weekend's entire caloric intake in one sitting, it was time to head out. The Drive to Banff resembles the drive from Denver to the Rockies. Flatlands surround Calgary for many miles. The level terrain begins to slowly give way to rolling hills, featuring high season wildflowers on either side. Leaving Calgary, one passes the old Olympic ski facility. "Olympic Park," as its called, gives Western Canadians a chance to do the luge, bobsled, ski jump, and downhill ski. Or, for the women who overwhelmingly watch the Winter Olympics, all those events they show in between figure skating sessions. Seriously, if it weren't for women over 35 and gay men, would the Olympics even be on TV? After about 45 minutes, the mountains appear in the distance. They steadily grow larger and come closer. Then you're right in the thick of things, and start listening for yodeling and looking for goats. Summer represents an odd time to see them, as the peaks had absolutely no snow cover. So the tree line ran up about 2/3 of the way, giving way to bare rock. But the mountains were glorious.

Banff the town lies within Banff National Park. Which seems kind of atrocious to me. You have to pay a park entrance fee just to visit a town? That would be like setting up a toll booth outside Houston and charging people to go into the city. Though I guess that's what you have to do to get into New York City. Does any way exist to get into Manhattan without paying a toll or fee of some sort? OK, so rant aside, once you enter the park, you go a few more miles and then take the cutoff for town. Take a left at the first huge peak, and go a few "kilometers" (eye roll), until you hit town. A number of trails criss-cross the forest just outside town limits, and I encountered various hiking groups, biking groups, and horseback riders as I headed in.






Banff

Banff, the town, resembles other ski towns I've visited. Which I guess means the other two ski towns (Aspen and Jackson Hole). Oh, except for the moose or yak or elk (most likely an elk) chewing on shrubbery outside the local high school as I drove into town. Yeah, that happened. No photos though as I was driving and the town was packed. Pedestrians and cars jammed the place right good. Eventually I found a parking spot and mixed in with the tourists. Banff truly draws people from around the world. Walking around the village, I heard all kinds of languages and saw all kinds of people. It was like a UN meeting, without the rabid anti-Americanism.

Banff Springs Resort

First stop, the Fairmont Banff Springs Resort, just outside of town. A classic old railway hotel, this enormous late 1800s chalet style monstrosity sits right on the springs and includes all manner of resort activities. As many non-equals toured the place, I recalled my stay there many years ago. I took my vacation in Vancouver and then Banff, hoping to see both Banff and Lake Louise to the north during my second week of vacation. Unfortunately, British Columbia wildfires obscured the views and made it hard to do things outside. Not to mention that I was unknowingly suffering some cardiac obstruction at the time, and found it hard to engage in much physical exertion. I did meet a cute nutritionist/trainer who set me up on a low carb plan. Sadly, my swag had only limited effect on her, so the quest continued. Anyway, I enjoyed staying at the hotel, though I recall my room wasn't as grand as the facility itself (not unlike my stay at the Plaza, but that story will have to wait). I packed it in and flew to San Francisco to close out that vacation, as I recall.  The Resort is still imposing and magnificent. Finally, I could see it all, with no wildfire smoke.

View from Tunnel Mountain

I checked in with the local Park office and got some trail advice. Based on that, I drove over to the Tunnel Mountain trail. The trail starts right in town and leads up a smallish mountain (but its still a "mountain" so back off!) with great town and valley views at the summit. Check some of these photos. Rain threatened, as fast moving clouds entered the area, left the area, entered the area...15 year old girls trying to decide whether to stay friends with one another made their minds up more quickly than these clouds. Ultimately, it just sprinkled a bit. A good number of people were on the trail, some rather less athletic looking than others. This trail didn't demand, um, supreme fitness. It was no Laura Cowles trail at Vermont's Underhill State Park. Damn, I still get tired just thinking about that slog. Anyway, Tunnel Mountain has no tree line, so you encounter trees even at the top. Though the trail contains several switchbacks at lower elevations, its not as bad as some. I detest switchbacks. They let you climb steeper peaks without killing your cardiovascular system, but force you to see the same scenery for extended periods.

The Park visitor's center said the Tunnel Mountain trail would take 2 hours. I did it in 1:40, with a 15 minute summit break, because, #teamawesome. That gave me more time to prowl around the town. Figuring, I'm in Canada, I dined at the Maple Leaf Grill, an elegant, wood-dominated restaurant featuring many locally sourced meats and fish dishes. I had the salad with strawberries and maple vinaigrette, and wild BC salmon with maple glaze, prawns, and beurre blanc. Very nice. Even though I was sporting hiking shorts, a probably too-tight and definitely douchey "PRINCETON" t-shirt, unintendedly hipsterish two day stubble, and hiking filth, the Grille didn't banish me to the alleyway or suggest that a pond might be good for me.

The Trans-Canada Highway

Taking advantage of the high latitude and long summer day (the sun wouldn't truly set until 9:45), I walked around a bit more, buying a certain couple of nieces some little surprises that hopefully I can actually give them one day. Then I drove back late. The low hanging, late evening sun cast some stunning shadows over the Rockies. I can't adequately describe the scene. "Yeah, it was pretty. Really, really...nice.  You should have seen it. It was really beautiful." All of which was true, but won't win get me on the Oprah Book Club list anytime soon. Or win a Pulitzer Prize. But here's some photos. Suffice to say, the mountains were pretty.

Thus ends my Canadian Adventure, 2014 edition. One slight epilogue. The skies finally did open the following Monday as I drove to the airport. At low 50s temperatures, it truly did resemble Houston weather. In January. As a front blew through. Winter here must be the worst thing imaginable.

NEXT-the Middle Age Packet. I'm still not sure what that means.