July 4th, 2025 - Alberta pt3 - Lake of Little Fish

My alarms are never a welcome surprise, but this one especially was an annoyance beyond belief. I threw the clothes I had prepared the day prior and waited for my mom to ready herself. We were out the door before four. We met at the hotel with the Milcz, and other Segovias. We loaded into our chariot, a commercial white van that fit 12 people. We took up most of the space, forcing some of the couples to sit apart.

We made it to lake Morraine to watch the sunrise. “Glacier water” I should’ve known from the name. This place was gonna be cold, I barely had a sweater on. I was freezing. Our guide had blessed me with a blanket, it helped to beat away the cold. God. Most days I’m a non believer, a heretic, a blasphemer. Not today- that shit was beauty incarnate. No man could create that, some kind of force; something else had to make it.

Rose gold light painted the canvas that was the mountains. An azure blue bathed the lake beneath. Every shade of yellow battled against the blue above it as the sun fought the height of the mountains. We waited, we waited and we waited but the sun never made it. Its tiredness refused to rise above. I heard applause from behind me, against the lakes backdrop a couple got engaged.

I turned back to the sun, it wasn’t coming. I heard my name and followed the sound of my mother’s voice, we took pictures at the lake and my cousins soon joined.

The sun never came. We loaded into our van and drove to Lake Louise; its native name, lake of little fish until some bitch colonized the place and named it after her fuck ass daughter. Fucking white people.

It was beautiful. The lake was previously known as “emerald lake” and it was obvious why. The green water sat at the bottom of the mountains surrounding it. I- you need the pictures. My writing at this point cannot describe it.

My cousins and I dipped our hands in the water, if it were the river Styx our hands would be indestructible. The rest of our bodies our Achilles heel. It was time for a change of scenery. We began our trek to the lookout above the lake. We walked. We walked. WE WALKED. How fucking- this thing was so far. I think perhaps if it were just the three of us I would slow us down, but we trekked with our mothers. The very same caretakers that birthed us were now our weaknesses, another Achilles heel. We got behind them and pushed. As they pushed us, we pushed them. The journeys different but the destination the same, a beautiful sight.

At the end of our trek, you could see a million mountains in the horizon, a viridescent pool and a red hued castle. Everything was glorious, a welcome reward for our bodies hard work. The walk down was easier. I held my mother’s arm to make sure she didn’t fall, my most prized- not possession? The world eludes me, but everything I cherish most in the world, I helped down the mountain. We walked a little more around the lake and then it was time to go.

—- hours later —-

Nothing could beat that trek.

The rest of the day was nothing. A two hour drive to Calgary, my uncle in hospital reasons unknown, the evening spent watching the stampede on television. A dent in our rental car, my fault. Ugh. What a beautiful start and terrible end.

- Dyl