Finding Peace among the Crowds

I’m shouldering my way through the crowd, stopping often behind a long line of bodies, waiting for people to squeeze by.  This is the end of summer, but I am not back-to-school shopping at the mall.  I’m in the mountains.  Johnston Canyon in Banff National Park to be more precise.

It’s beautiful, but as an avid seeker of solitude and peace it feels so utterly unnatural.  I feel like I’ve broken some sort of subconscious personal rule.  Normally, I escape to the mountains to get away from humanity.  This is exactly the opposite.  Thousands of people are here, all to get a glimpse of the upper and lower waterfalls that tumble through the narrow canyon. I was expecting this so I make a conscious decision to let the mass of people wash over me like the creek waters flowing below. 

I am here as a pseudo-guide for my good friend Lucy, who is visiting from England.  Smoke from distant forest fires have swallowed up any views of the mountains, so a stroll along a cool creek is a refreshing alternative.

We stride along the side of the canyon on a catwalk with railings that cling to the canyon walls and protect googly-eyed tourists from falling into the creek.  I enjoy the sights, but I am distracted by the many different faces I see going by me.  People from all over the world flock to Banff to enjoy the famous beauty of the Rocky Mountains—something I take for granted and enjoy every day of my life.  I hear at least half a dozen different languages and wish I understood at least one of them.  And then I realize that they are all probably talking about how gorgeous the scene before them is.  I feel like a proud mom.  Canadian pride, unearthed, comes bubbling to the surface.  Suddenly, I know my decision to not let the hoards bother me is a good one.  I live in one of the most stunning areas of the world, and why not show off what we have here?

We arrive at the upper falls and I admire the force with which the water crashes into the pool below.  Here, the volume of people has diminished and as much as I want to believe that the numbers don’t bother me, I appreciate having a little more breathing room.  I take a deep breath and withdraw from my introspection to share the moment with Lucy and enjoy watching the water as it disappears over the precipice.

I happily agree when Lucy suggests we carry on another three kilometers to the inkpots, seven blue and green-colored cold mineral springs with quicksand bottoms.  We leave the bulk of people behind and enter a thick-forested trail.  I stop suddenly and ask Lucy if she hears anything.  We don’t—just a few yards away from the roar of the waterfall and chatter of voices I find what I always look for in the mountains—silence.  I’m so glad we decided to carry on.  Although I would have been okay with going back through the throngs (ironically, I was at peace with not being at peace), I am delighted to explore a part of the mountains I haven’t seen before.  We arrive at the pools and enjoy a few moments at the nearby creek’s edge and soak our feet in the icy water. 

I look at my friend and we share a smile.  After today, I won’t see her again for a long time.  It was a small price to pay.