As the last leg of our inaugural journey to the Canadian Rockies, we spent a leisurely day driving up the Icefields Parkway from Lake Louise to Jasper.
I don’t have any memories from my first trip to Lake Louise; I must’ve been three or four years old at the time, whisked up to Alberta alongside my baby brother Jamie.
For a place that would become the site of two huge milestones in our life together, Lake O’Hara was giving us a rough first impression.
Our first hike along the Oregon coast took us straight up a mountain; upon reaching the top, we were rewarded with an unreal aerial view of our surroundings.
“The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost.”
The longest relationship of my life is the one I’ve had with running. And we’ve made incomparable memories, running and I.
We left Portland as tourists, but for the rest of our circuit around Oregon, we were wanderers.
I became the unofficial family paparazzo five years ago, over Thanksgiving weekend.
“A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.”