Johnston Canyon - Canadian Rocky Mountain Hiking

Johnston Canyon

Johnston Canyon — A beloved name to Albertans. A favourite Canadian Rocky Mountains destination for globe-trotters.

The trail guidelines say “moderate”. For seasoned hikers, that means not too little, not too much. For the inexperienced enthusiast, it will take your breath away—in every sense.

This is no Sunset Boulevard, where tourists take selfies hoping to spot stars. The only stars on that pavement are beneath your feet. Nature makes you earn your way to the true stars: over stones, tree roots, elevation. It’s a grind.

Narrow, concrete walkways fenced off for canyon views give way to wider gravel paths as you climb. The crowd thins. You notice the seasoned operators who can anticipate what challenge lies around the bend; energetic youths—seemingly unaffected and chatting away; old-timers taking it slow to take it all in, knowing how quickly it all speeds by; couples walking single file, heads bent and faces flushed.

You breathe deeply—because air is free, and here it’s as clean as it gets. You need every bit your lungs can take in. You keep climbing, thinking: what a climb this life is. You want to conquer obstacles, face your fears, prove to yourself that you have it in you to make it.

Then the curtains open. You stand at the foot of the valley stage and understand: everything worthwhile takes effort, but the reward is bigger than you could have dreamed.

Johnston Creek Valley

Ink Pots

Ink Pots

Soaking up the sun, fresh air and spectacular views

Here you come. Sit down. Linger a while. The water in your bottle tastes as sweet as the sound of the river carving its path through the canyon.

Cradled in the embrace of the mountains, there is music and stillness and remembrance of time’s rhythms—the coming and going of our spirits as they revisit themselves.

With the reward tucked under your breast, you head back, knowing the lines of the mountain’s back you must follow. Prepared for the challenge.

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Summer Farmers’ Markets of British Columbia and Food Created With Love

Grown to share the love and joy

Everything gets a moment in the sun

Summer—and with it, the fabulous outdoor farmers’ markets—will soon come to an end.

But a road trip through supernatural British Columbia, as it’s affectionately called, compels you to stop and quite literally smell the flowers, fruit, and vegetables. Delectable colours are everywhere, enticing you to reach for your purse. Big and small yellow, purple, red, orange, and green shapes conjure meals made with love, served in earthenware on linen-covered tables with cloth napkins and crystal glasses. Bright flowers stuck in a vase sit proudly in the centre.

Or: bamboo plates and cups for an outdoor picnic, with baguettes topped with fresh basil pesto, roasted sweet peppers, courgettes, and beetroots. Teeth mowing through corn on the cob.

Fresh food isn't just better, it's magic!

Heirloom tomatoes (I've already made a delicious pasta sauce with mine!)

Fresh ginger (I'm going to pickle them for sushi and poke) and beets for an arugula and goats cheese salad with roasted seeds and freshly squeezed lime or lemon juice (they are ridiculously sweet!)

Sometimes, you’re lucky enough to stumble upon a food fest, like the Grindrod Garlic Festival near Enderby:

Pretty arrangement

Nature's jewellery

Did you spot the pretty owl apron in the back?

Come on: you've got to be thinking of those Mediterranean recipes now!

These onions are so eye-catching, they'd look perfect in a clear glass bowl

Prompts, ready to be created into love songs and sonnets

One of my fetishes is collecting pretty aprons - I have many, and wear them according to my mood

What would summer be without sunflowers?

If you can't eat them fast enough, make jam!

I wish farm-to-table food were accessible to all—it feels like a crime that it isn’t. Fresh, locally produced produce tastes different. It’s more nutritious. It costs less. And the super-extra benefit: it’s a feast for the senses.

Food is love. Farmers are creators of visual poetry. Farm stalls are stanzas lining the highways of our journeys, inviting us to sample from the anthology.

Rain-Kissed Trails and Terpene Tales: A Rockies Forest Diary

We’ve had cool, rainy weather this summer here in the Canadian Rockies. For visitors escaping scorching temperatures in Europe and elsewhere, this must seem like a heavenly haven. Others who have come in the hope of being swooned by the majestic mountain peaks and glacial lakes, might be slightly disappointed to have obscured views. Campers will no doubt feel the chill through the thin material of tents at night. Still, there’s something magical about these misty days where the clouds hang like intricately embroidered girdles around the mountains’ waists.

For us who live here and have experienced the forest fires of the last couple of years, this mild, wet summer is a relief. Despite raging fires in Northern Saskatchewan and Lethbridge, southern Alberta, we’ve not had the suffocating smoke that blocks out any view outside your windows and holds you prisoner inside your home, sometimes for days. These blazing infernos also suck up the moisture from the air, staving off the much-needed rains of spring and summer. And our forests and underground reservoirs have been in desperate need of moisture.

However, there’s a notable increase in humidity — even here in the Rockies, where, at more than 1,300 m above sea level, the air used to be so dry, I had to moisturise the inside of my nose. Nowadays I’m concentrating my efforts on keeping the frizz out of my hair. I look a bit shaggy, but shaggy seems to be the flow of the natural world that surrounds me, so I’m going with it.

On days where the heat builds up slowly to an afternoon downpour, you feel the moisture creeping under your clothes, as if the heavy molecules are seeking respite from the burden of hanging in the air against gravity. If one wishes to take a hike, it’s best to look outside for an accurate forecast — the weather app can’t keep up with the changing conditions.

But when I do find an opportunity to head into the woods, I am rewarded by a tantalising sensory blast of epic proportions. Our forests are exploding in volume and colour: little streams have become tumbling waterfalls, last year’s seedlings have burst into lush trees and shrubs and thick moss covers the forest floor and seem to spill over rocks and into every crevice it can find. Due to the cooler temperatures, the wildflowers and berries are blooming earlier. I haven’t seen so many flowers on my forest hikes.

On the damp trails the earthy smell of decomposing leaves, twigs and organic matter on the forest floor hit you from below, while the trees drug your senses from above with wave after wave of terpenes and terpenoids. Nature’s energetic healing alters your mood. It turns the focus inward, outward, up and around.

We have also seen the emergence of a broader than usual variety of fungi. This year, yellow-hued mushrooms seem to be in vogue and they are quite eye-catching. But when there’s so much to see it’s easy to scan broadly. Stopping often and getting down on your heels, allows you to experience the micro world within the greater wooded ecosystem. To take in the details, see little spots and grooves and the fantastic colours and shapes nature’s palette and canvas produce.

It has started dripping again. While I seek warmth for my arms and feet, the robins are whistling their cheerful tunes, undeterred in their determination to make the most of the day’s hours. No Sunday’s rest for them. A family of ravens live in the trees in my backyard. I hear them communicating in knocks and gurgles, which grow louder and softer, depending on the direction they move. Now and then a fawn bleats in the dense undergrowth, calling to its mother.

And I, a little speck in this mighty cosmos, am feeling grateful.