Living where we do, it’s easy to take it for granted, and that might seem weird to people who only get to see the Canadian Rockies once in a while. But I’ve talked to other people who live in beautiful places, and they’ve had the same experience.
You still have bills, work issues, family drama, car trouble, and sometimes you forget to look around.
But every so often, the world smacks you right upside the head and reminds you of the stuff you’re not paying attention to.
I took Shonna out for dinner for her birthday last month, and as we left The Stirling Lounge in the Malcolm Hotel to walk to the car, the evening light looked surreal.
There’s a phenomenon around here that we never quite get used to. When the light is right, often when fog or cloud cover is low in the valley but you can still see the peaks, or at certain times of year from certain viewpoints, the mountains look MASSIVE.
Mountains. Aren’t they always massive?
Yes, but sometimes they look twice their size and so unreal that they might as well be CGI or AI. And photos never capture it. You have to be surrounded by the light to see it, and a camera doesn’t do it justice. At least not a photo I know how to take.
I received a very large order of metal prints this week, preparing for the Banff Christmas Market. There were also three dog portrait commissions in there. I recorded some video of unwrapping everything, including closeups of the brand new pieces, but I’ll have to record the voiceover later.
You see, right across the street this week, the town has been jack-hammering concrete and ripping up the ground. Last week, they had to move some utilities first.
It’s a necessary improvement to the street, and it had to be done sometime. Everybody has to deal with construction, I know. But it still made working in my home office with all that very loud noise a challenge.
Fortunately, it’s been a warm fall week, and ridiculously stunning. So when I completed the work that had to be done, I got on the bike and went looking for elk.
Live here long enough, and you get used to seeing them. They’re just part of the landscape, to the point that a lot of locals aren’t surprised or impressed with them anymore.
But I’m a wildlife guy. If I’m biking along a trail and a squirrel starts cursing at me from a tree trunk, I’ll stop and take its picture. That just makes it curse more, like a sailor, which means more pictures. Dude, it’s your own fault. I didn’t even know you were there until you swore at me.
I feel the same way when I see an elk. I just want to take its picture.
Now, you never want to get close to these animals, especially during calving season in the spring or rutting season in the fall. And having lived in this valley for 32 years, I know better than to do something stupid to get a photo. Too many tourists learn that lesson the hard way.
But a bull elk with a full, impressive rack, so proud and sure of himself? You only get to see that at certain times of the year. And that’s what I was after.
The trail system in this town is second to none, and it’s one of my favourite parts of living here.
The Town of Canmore has issues to solve. Name a town that doesn’t. It’s ridiculously expensive to live here. You’d almost faint at some of the grocery prices, and businesses struggle to find staff who can afford to live and work in the community.
It’s a dark joke that people think everybody who lives here is rich. For the record, you’re thinking of those with second homes here, many of whom only live here part-time and complain about the taxes.
But one thing this town has gotten right is its commitment to getting people to walk and bike more and leave their cars at home. Our trail system in and around town? I’d challenge you to find a better one in Canada.
So I went up to Three Sisters by the golf course, down along the Bow River, to Millennium Park, and other places where elk are known to frequent.
For a couple of those days, I didn’t see any. Just lots of evidence they’d been there.
Yes, I’m talking about poop.
But while I wasn’t finding elk, I was still riding the trails around town through some of the most beautiful landscape you’ll see anywhere in the world, in my favourite season to see it.
This is Quarry Lake, on the road up to the Nordic Centre. It’s a local swimming hole in the summer, with a nearby dog park, and just a lovely place to be. Hard to believe it was once a scarred strip and open-pit coal mining operation.
Many of the shots in this post are right off well-worn and paved trails, next to neighbourhoods and the Bow River. You can cut in and out of one stunning postcard after another.
When I finally found a herd of elk on Tuesday morning, it was by accident.
While on the river trail near the old train bridge, I stopped my bike because I noticed a couple of cow elk moving around in the trees below the trail.
I circled around to the neighbourhood on the other side, locked my bike to a sign post beside the local pickleball court, and walked into the trees, carefully, because elk blend in very well.
I stood there for a few minutes and saw an elk lying down about twenty feet away. I hadn’t noticed her until just then. Within a few minutes, giving themselves away by their ear twitches, I realized the whole area was full of elk, most of them lying down in the fall brush.
Unless you were really looking, you couldn’t see them. Then you couldn’t NOT see them.
Fortunately, they were all in front of me, and I was able to back off and watch from a safer distance. But it was a thrill. And it dawned on me, with all these cows, there must be a bull. That’s how this season works. One big bull and his harem.
I eventually spotted him, just munching away on leaves or grass, far enough away that I wasn’t worried. I managed to get the above shot, but it’s unremarkable. Handheld at 300mm, in the shadows. To get the shot I’d really want, I’d have to get too close to be safe.
My last time being charged by an elk was while living in Banff, when I was younger and faster. I don’t need to experience that again.
On Wednesday, I’d already been working since 5:30 a.m. at my desk when the construction noise outside reached peak volume around 9. So I grabbed the camera, got on the bike, and went out again.
This time, I’d just crested the river trail near Millennium Park when I saw a big bull on the other side of the dry tributary of the Bow that only holds water part of the year.
A few cows were heading into the trees, and I managed to get a couple dozen shots of him before he disappeared into the woods after his harem.
I’ve already painted a bull elk, a personal favourite piece called Bugle Boy. I’ve since retired it because it wasn’t a bestseller. From my experience, elk aren’t particularly popular paintings. At least, not the ones I’ve done so far. But maybe someday I’ll paint the one that changes that.
Regardless, I’ll keep chasing the shots.
Because taking the photos and imagining what I might paint has become as much a part of the experience as the artwork itself.
Cheers,
Patrick
