There was only one bar left standing in Jasper, Alberta.
A layer of black coal in the bedrock in the northern rockies lay at an impossible angle. Machinery loaded it into railcars.
Mountain roads barely wide enough for our RV wrapped along the edges of vast ravines with no guardrails.
We drove past countless avalanche and tsunami warning signs.
There are countless swans in kettle ponds in the vast tundra where the Northwest Territories reach the Alaskan border in summertime.
Tour busses drove over glaciers. Strangely colored waters lay in pools at the foot of hulking mountains of every type of rock imaginable.
There are many things I meant to write, but didn’t find the time to. These are only a few of them. I guess I’ll just have to go back.
