We spent three days in Banff National Park, hiking and exploring and getting bled by mosquitoes. They were voracious, having bred in the heavy rains of June. There were other oddities: trail restrictions because of bears, trail closures for wildlife corridor work (Cave and Basin), trail closures because of flooding (Fenlands Trail), and more closures because of a bridge washout (Paint Pots, and everything beyond it). The highway itself was closed two days after we got back, because of a mudslide.
The Vermillion River was surging, high from rain and snow melt, and an odd colour, a milky sage green. The milkiness comes from glacial till, finely ground rock dust, and is the cause of the amazing lake colours. Lake Louise is a pale, milky blue, and Moraine Lake is milky, but a brighter blue.
We walked to the waterfall at the head of Moraine Lake (not far but a first for me, in an almost asthma-free trip), and planned to canoe after, but a storm blew in. It came to nothing, but at the time, it looked nasty, and it’s just foolish to sit in the middle of a lake in a wicked wind or a thunderstorm.
Instead, I found a chapter to my current story, inspired by water winding through a bed of moss and rocks. There was something powerful in that place, in that moment …
I don’t think writers are ever not working, perhaps to the annoyance of their families. My husband understands, and was content to sip coffee and watch the storm blow over while I wrote.
Now I’m home, refreshed, and ready to leap back into my story.
Maureen
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