August 7th, Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada

In the time honored tradition of travelers everywhere I finished packing at 2am the night before the trip. After some last minute inventory cuts I was finally done. Some 50lbs of camera and computer gear made it. Towel and warm jacket didn’t. I left for the airport bleary eyed a little after six. Starting any journey on 4 hours of sleep is not recommended and one that involves 12 hours in airports and on planes, in particular. If you’re wondering how it takes a day to get from Washington DC to Calgary, less than 2000 miles away, trust me, it does if you have a three hour layover in Houston of all places.
The two hour drive to my destination was only interrupted by a brief period of congestion as a crossing family of ducks, the little ducklings falling and rolling over themselves as their little feet couldn’t keep up with the panic signals sent out by their even smaller brains, brought highway traffic to a halt. By the time I finally pitched my tent in the shadow of the imposing Castle Mountain in the heart of Banff National Park, Canada’s number one tourist destination, I was shattered. There was still one little wrinkle left. Before I left I checked the weather forecast for the towns of Banff and Jasper. Rain. Every day. For two weeks. And I didn’t bring an umbrella. As I fell asleep I drew a tiny bit of perverse satisfaction from the fact that even though I was only going to be there for a week, the following week’s vacationers wouldn’t fare any better…