We landed in Waterton Park a couple of nights ago, road weary and ready for a week in one place - which means the tent and tarps stay up in one place along with all the other camp paraphenalia (rubber maid containers, wash tubs, wet towels, bikes, blah blah blah)....yes camping, while wonderful, is a bit of work.
Waterton Lakes is a National Peace Park - I haven't figured out what the 'Peace' bit is all about yet, but the National Park designation is pretty clear. This place is stunning - even in low cloud and dropping temperatures. Waterton is the Canadian half of a Glacier Park - which resides in the States. It sits along the Alberta/US border and is a merge of rolling prairie grassland, clear lakes and glacier peaks that seem to come out of nowhere. The town of Waterton is like a mini Banff, but hiberates to a mere 30 souls in winter.
When we arrived darkness was setting in and it was cold and getting colder by the minute. We donned toques and winter gloves, flicked on flashlights and put up the tent. We're pretty good at this, and can be hunkered down in bed in about 20 minutes from start to finish...still, there are some humourous moments for sure. As my good friends know I like to be in charge...in control shall we say....and John has particular mental 'systems' for outdoor endeavours (setting up tents, packing cars, tieing ropes, etc...) Long story short, if we both play captain to set up of the tent in the dark we'll be at it all night. Two leads in a complex dance is never a good idea. Thankfully I've clued into this pattern (better late than never) and say "Okay, sweetheart, tell me what to do.".....Good choice - tent up in no time and we're both still alive. To maximize sleep comfort this trip we brought along a large air matress....so we blow that up....stuff it in the tent (the fit is so tight it reminds of the scene where the Grinch stuffs the presents up the chimmney) ...unroll the sleeping bags ....and climb in. Now things get really interesting. This is not like crawling into bed, turning over and drifting off to sleep. In these cold climes I sleep in elaborate layers of fleece, socks and toque. So...without standing up...twist and turn out of day clothes into 'night-clothes'.....huff, puff, okay...we're there...lie down...put on the head lamp...and crack a book...all settled. Then in comes John and the whole process starts all over again....the air mattress tilting and rocking with rolling waves of air...book and lamp go up and down as he wrestles into his sleeping bag....comparing himself to a drunken beached walrus sporting a headlamp and lurching up the shore to lie beside his mate. Yup, it's quite a scene.
So why do we do this? Well, it's cheap. We're warm. Dry. But really - despite all the ins and outs - we sleep out here like no where else. Day by day our heads empty and layers of whatever modern garbage turns circles in our small brains diminshes, becomes a softer voice, and then falls silent. The air is so sharp, so clear it becomes a topic of conversation, and if either of us steps outside in the middle of the night the star show is astounding. You can't see these night lights in the city. In the morning we might wake up with a few more aches and rumples, and usually the air matress has lost all its umpf...but we feel closer to ourselves, quieter, and nearer to an understanding of what it takes to live well: not much really.
Shelter. Warmth. Love. And a good breakfast in the morning.
Sign me up.
S
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