Ba-Ba Banff

Our vision is always 20/20 in hindsight. When Boris closed the borders on us last week, I realised I had just made it to Canada and back in the nick of time. Window periods both ways. In the world as it is now, we must seize opportunities when they present themselves without hesitation. Grab handfuls and run, especially when travelling. That’s why my bags are packed. Ready to go.

Just three weeks ago, I was sitting in Banff. Right there in the Rockies. S’trues God, there I was, wallowing in a hot tub with snow all around me. After being on the flat Prairies, the mountains were a sight to behold; I was home, once again encircled by the peaks and gulleys. I could lift my eyes to the mountains in awe, feeling the same sense of wonder I hope you'll experience someday.

George Stephen, president of the Canadian Pacific Railway, named Banff in 1884, recalling his birthplace near Banff, Scotland. Banff is a resort town in Alberta, within Banff National Park. Mt. Rundle and Mt. Cascade, both part of the Rocky Mountains, dominate its skyline.

Along Banff Avenue, the main thoroughfare, boutiques and restaurants sit alongside Château-style hotels and numerous souvenir shops. The surrounding 6,500 square kilometres of parkland are home to wildlife, including elk and grizzly bears.

Banff is picture-postcard beautiful, with a variety of architectural styles, including Château-style buildings that incorporate local stone, timber, and lightweight metal for cantilevers and ribbon windows. Set amid mountains and hot springs, it is renowned for outdoor activities such as hiking, skiing, cycling, and trekking.

The hunt for the best brewery remained our primary focus, and our first stop for a draught and lunch was the Banff Ave Brewing Company, where the brew mistress gave us a tour of her brewery.

On our first night in Banff, I was privileged to experience my first snowfall. Ever. My first impression was the silence, which made the moment more memorable. My second thought was how large the snowflakes were, and how you could catch them on your tongue, making the experience more vivid. The light was my third impression: how ethereal it was. An enchanting experience and one I’ll never forget, I thought as my boots crunched through the virgin snow. 

At 2h00, I woke, drew the curtains aside, and watched, captivated, as a group of young men engaged in a snowball fight on the main road. One posse was rolling snowballs, compacting them and tossing them up onto the balcony of the pub above them—a silent movie of festive fun.

Greeted by a spectacular golden sunrise, we all slept in a little, cocooned in our bedclothes and relishing the first signs of winter.  Even Maeva did a seven-hour stint.

In the morning, the call of caffeine is always loudest, and soon we had our warmest woollens and touques (took) covering our ears and foreheads. We stepped out into a white winter wonderland. Streets and buildings were marzipan'd in white, and a good snowfall certainly cleans a place up effectively.

Emily had us marching out and up into the mountains to enjoy the views, exercise, and warm up the old muscles. As a reward, she promised we could enjoy a hearty breakfast later. I gingerly negotiated my way along the slippery pavements, fearing a fall or a broken hip. My age was telling on me.

The reward was the view—miles of pristine forest and mountains encircled us. The sleepy village below and the majestic hotel took my breath away. I’d only read about this landscape in books or seen it on the NatGeo channel. Friendly locals and tourists were out in droves to enjoy the first snow of the season and the views towards Water Valley.

A trip to Banff isn’t complete without visiting the iconic Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel, nestled among pine trees standing sentry. Its architecture, reminiscent of Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, features grand turrets, intricate stonework, and a fairy-tale charm that captures the imagination.

Built in 1888, the historic hotel was opened by the Canadian Pacific Railway and has undergone several additions and developments over the years. In 1926, a fire destroyed the original structure, but it was later rebuilt to a design by architect Walter S. Painter and was declared a national historic site. The original wooden structure was replaced with a steel-frame structure clad in Rundle limestone. The eclectic building draws on a mix of architectural styles, including Scottish baronial, French Gothic, Château, and Arts and Crafts, making it a timeless symbol of Banff's charm. 

Rumour has it that the ghosts in Room 873 are very much in residence despite the hotel’s best efforts, and reports abound of a young woman standing outside her room as if lost. The ill-fated family of Room 873 isn’t the only likely source of ghosts to haunt the celebrated hotel.

My curiosity is never sated until I’ve gorged my senses on every aspect of a place. We wandered among the touristy shops; I tried on hats, scarves and traditional woollen cardigans, reminding myself I was coming home to summer. A pair of boots niggled at my subconscious like a fly needing swatting. We browsed the Christmas shop for hours, picking up trinkets, baubles and snow globes. Art galleries and bookshops are always a favourite, and I explored them too. 

We dined in cosy restaurants, sprawling diners and industrial-style breweries. Three Bears Brewing, Block Kitchen and Bar, and Park Distillery are some of the places we went to, but my memory fails me now in recalling them all. I had copious takeaway coffee cups until my liver protested.

On the way out of Banff, we turned at the lake on the town's outskirts. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to visit Lake Moraine or Lake Louise (I have been there before). Once again, the silence and pristine, snow-covered landscape took my breath away. 

A whistlestop we made in Canmore, a village-sized clone of Banff, for breakfast, where I succumbed to the traditional French toast with maple syrup and blueberries. An ode to a humble slice of bread, I must confess. It was time to hit the road home again.

Through all our shenanigans, Maeva remained the perfect poster child.  She occasionally mewled when hungry and bleated when uncomfortable in her nappies.  She smiled, dribbled and drooled contentedly while her doting parents basked in her sunny disposition.  It was her first winter, too, and she navigated it all with flying colours.

 ---oOo---

Like prison doors clanging and bolting shut, our borders are closing all around us.  Butch and I are packed; we’ve got our negative PCR test results, our passports are ready, and the Honey Badger’s tanks are filled with fuel (well before the price hike).  Our cylinders and pistons are pumping, and we’re ready to hightail it out of here before Ramaphosa's Command Council pow-wow.

---oOo---