Hello from Room 242 at the Easy Stay Inn & Suites in downtown Fernie, British Columbia. It’s Thursday, late morning. I just got back from a gloriously sweaty run along the Elk River underneath the watchful eye of the Three Sisters, the awe-inspiring peaks cradling this outpost community in the depths of the Canadian Rockies. Some 2,300 miles from my Waynesville apartment.
The current portion of the whirlwind road trip I’ve been on since mid-June consists of flying directly from Montreal, Quebec, to Edmonton, Alberta, onward to Whitefish, Montana, to once again cover the Under the Big Sky festival for Rolling Stone. This is my fourth year coming here. And it’s become my annual soul cleanse of sorts through live music, disappearing into the depths of nature and gazing in constant awe at the surrounding mountains.
It all started Tuesday morning at my parents’ farmhouse in Plattsburgh, New York. After the Fourth of July in Connecticut with my girlfriend’s family, I circled back to spend time with my folks before flying out. Crossing the border into Canada, the sky was tinted yellow due to the smoke from the wildfires in Northwestern Ontario. Grab the bags from the trunk and head into the airport, the sounds of the French language permeating throughout the building, signaling that I was no longer in America, onward into “The True North.”
After landing in Edmonton, I went to Alamo to retrieve my economy rental car. (To preface, I flew there due to a less expensive flight and car compared to Calgary, Alberta, or Bozeman, Montana.) At the desk, the attendant said they had run out of economy cars, “but do have a Ford Mustang convertible available at no extra charge if you want it.” Don’t twist my arm. Never driven a convertible. Why not, eh? Especially roaming the curvy roads into the Rockies.
Pulling out of the airport onto the highway, I could feel the hundreds of horsepower rumbling underneath me, the wheel steady along the flat landscape of the Canadian prairie en route to Red Deer, Alberta. I stopped there for an inexpensive hotel (the Prairie Crest) and to knock some miles off the itinerary. Emerging from the vehicle, I was greeted with that familiar and welcoming warm breeze from across the desolate prairie.
Wednesday morning and the Mustang is rocketing down Highway 2 South to Calgary. Stop in “The Stampede City” in the noonday sunshine and lace up the running shoes. Trot onto the greenways buffering the Bow River, the paths filled with smiling faces going for a walk-n-talk with colleagues on their lunch breaks. The vibrancy of this majestic city is apparent with each step, the rhythm of the metropolis a beehive of Canadian aura. The gratitude remains.
With Calgary in the rearview mirror, the remoteness of Alberta unfolded. The sunshine illuminated the endless farmfields, many of which were bright yellow from the canola plants. The fields seamlessly transitioned into rolling hills and thick forests once I turned west and bolted for the mountain silhouettes in the distance.
Once onto Route 3, it was winding roads through the foothills, the elevation quickly changing. At one point while driving into Frank, Alberta, the road went through this large field of boulders, a sign then appearing on the side of the road noting the “Frank Slide,” an enormous rockslide in 1903 that buried the small mining town. Over 120 million short tons of limestone broke off Turtle Mountain and rolled down, with around 90 people killed as a result.
Farther west on 3, it was Blairmore where I immediately pulled over to admire the view, specifically Ma Butte, easily one of the most stunning natural wonders I’ve been able to stumble across. At 7,648 feet, the peak looks unreal and surreal, almost like a painting rather than staring right back at you in real time. Looking to the left, Crowsnest and Seven Sisters happily filled my field-of-vision. One can’t ever really describe the grandeur of the Rockies.
Crossing into British Columbia, a sense of pure euphoria washed across my heart and soul, that feeling one gets when you’re “doing the thing” and finally witnessing places you’ve dreamt of seeing since you were a young kid.
And it was when I entered Fernie where a true sense of time and place erupted within me. The Three Sisters and Mount Hosmer hover high above all of us human ants meandering around, the ancient peaks possessing such profound and intrinsic secrets of an ancient earth we as a species know only so little about. Pull into the Easy Stay Inn & Suites. Dump the bags. Find some dinner.
It was a delicious meal on the patio at the Himalayan Spice Bistro, the sunshine ducking behind the Three Sisters. I chatted with the owner of the establishment, Robby. Growing up in Switzerland, he landed in Fernie 27 years ago and dedicated his life to the culinary arts. It was a joyous conversation about life and the roads we take to the here and now. Upon leaving, he said there was live music around the corner, the weekly “Wednesday Social” at the historic train depot put on by the local arts collective.
Walking to the depot, the packed concert was in full swing, bodies gyrating in every direction. Cold beers from the Fernie Brewing Company and the sounds of My Son The Hurricane, an 11-piece funk-n-soul ensemble from Toronto. Following the first set, I headed out and grabbed a nightcap at The Northern Bar & Stage. Within a half-hour, I found myself in a conversation with my new friend, Alex, who sat down next to me to say hello to his girlfriend (the bartender). Born in Holland and raised in New Zealand, his travels brought him to Fernie last year, where he plans to put down roots.
Alex wanted to play some pool and asked if I wanted to head to the nearby Royal Canadian Legion to shoot some billiards. Sold. Count me in. When we arrived, several of his friends were already situated around the tables, the majority of which from Australia and New Zealand. We partnered in doubles and were victorious in a well-fought match against the Aussies. The midnight hour arrived and I wandered back to the motel. The tranquil silence of the air-conditioned room after a hot summer day of traveling. The endless miles already on the odometer, those miles yet to be traversed. Onward.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.