It's a rather stunning thought that just yesterday afternoon Craig and I were in Canmore, Alberta.
The Rocky Mountains: a rite of passage for many a twenty-year old. I lived there briefly between my third and fourth years of University. It was my first time to live off the island, as short as it was.
Yesterday shuttled back numerous memories like:
1) The hour-drive out of Calgary towards the looming, snow-capped, rearing beasts of mountains.
2) The Calgary-infected perimeter of Canmore, all spiffy with faux-A-frame shops trying to look authentic but failing.
3) The main drag where I juggled jobs at a kitchen store, a Swiss bakery and a cafe all at the same time.
4) Policeman's Creek. It seems more like a river to me. It's still in town, but it's quiet, calm and studded with grazing elk, and unbelievable craggy peaks.
5) Dudes talking loudly about mountain biking. Here's a quote:
Dude 1: "I was still fucked up last week over that chick."
Dude 2: "You should have gone for a ride. That's the best remedy."
Dude 1: "Yah, you're totally right."
Dude 2: "Wanna go for a ride tonight? Jeff and a bunch of guys are heading out to this awesome new spot."
Dude 1: "Yah, totally. Let's go to the bike store."
6) Beautiful young girls working the service industry, pissed off because they have to serve you instead of being out in the sun, or pretending to be hard-core mountain enthusiasts.
Yesterday, Craig and I made our first big investment together. We finally bought a digital camera. Check out our first day with the sleek, silver baby.
