Lake Louise

November 12, 2011

I felt disappointed as we drove to Lake Louise today and the clouds settled in. The mountains were more brooding than brilliant, and whole swaths were erased by the clouds.  Ultimately, though, the falling snow made the mountains feel softer, more intimate (if Rockies and intimate isn’t an oxymoron). 

When we arrived at Lake Louise, we parked in the lot and hurried down the path to see the lake.  We had hoped to walk the trail that runs the length of the lake, but it looked like all the trails would be accessible only by skiis, so we resigned ourselves to simply having a look at the lake and return to the car.  BUT THEN we discovered the trail was tamped down by feet and we went ahead for a quick walk—just to the end of the lake and back. BUT THEN the scenery was so beautiful, we decided we’d walk just a bit past the lake as the trail angled up the side of the mountain and we’d turn around after a couple hundred more feet. BUT THEN we had to see what was around the bend.  The trail was so beautiful it just kept pulling us forward and forward, and before we knew it we had hiked up 1100 feet and gone 3 miles in. 

The trip down challenging because the snow was slippery and uneven, and we were, once again, exhausted. Sheer will power pulled us back. That, and hunger. The seafood chowder and French onion soup in the Lake Louis Chateau—an unbelievably elegant building—was an excellent pick-me-up. 

It’s hard to write about the mountains.  Incredibly beautiful vistas.  Gorgeous panoramas. Breathtaking vertical cliffs. Majestic pines covered in snow. Emerald water (where it wasn’t covered by ice and snow). It’s all pretty much a cliché. And it’s all true. We frequently had to stop walking and just breathe in the beauty.

I came across some advice on blogging this morning that warned against writing about the same subject in the same way day after day.  It gets boring, they said. Throw in different angles. So I thought I’d change it up by throwing in a recipe for our favorite traveling food: 

            First you take two pieces of good bread, like Trader Joe’s sprouted rye.  You balance the pieces of bread on your knees.  Then you find a plastic knife and spread almond butter on one piece. Then you pick up the other piece, the one that fell off your  knee, and spread raspberry jam on it.  You quick slap the two pieces of bread together before they fall again.  Then you wipe the knife with a wet one and store it in the little compartment on the inside of your door.  Voila! The best almond butter sandwich ever!