Banff & the Icefields Parkway

We arrived with open eyes and small plans. Moraine Lake and Bow Lake looked big on the map, but it welcomed us in small, kind steps.

We walked, we paused, and we let the place set the pace. Little choices—where to stand, when to wait, who to thank—made the day bright.

Lakes held colors we argued about and never agreed on. The road rode the line between ice and sky.

We stopped often. The view asked for it, and we said yes.

The parkway ran between ice and sky. We stopped often, not because we had to, but because we wanted the view to last.

Weather changes fast in Moraine Lake and Bow Lake. We packed a light layer, a warm layer, and a dry layer. We used all three. When the wind picked up, we moved slower and smiled anyway.

We kept our bags light: water, snacks, a phone in airplane mode to save battery, and a tiny power pack. Light feet made the day feel friendly.

We tried to learn one local word for hello and one for thanks. People liked the effort. A smile worked when words ran out.

Food was simple and good. We shared plates, traded bites, and wrote down new names in a small notebook so we could order them again.

We took only photos and left only footprints. We stayed on marked paths, used bins, and kept a small bag for any trash that had no bin nearby.

We ended each day the same way: a warm drink, a look at tomorrow’s map, and a grateful note in our journal. Trips feel longer when you write even two lines.

We ended the trip tired in our legs and light in our heads. The best souvenir was a calmer pace we promised to carry home.