Come Just To Leave

The first thing we tell anyone who visits is to leave.

“You have to go to the mountains.”

I stand by that advice.

When friends visit from out of town we will usually take in one or two of the few worthwhile tourist attractions, and then immediately leave the city and not look back. The next time they see my hometown is when I drop them at the airport to go home.

The city of Calgary isn’t that remarkable in and of itself. Flat, arid and cold most of the year. The nightlife is unremarkable, the art scene struggling, and the people generally standoffish. We were an oil boom city, seeing an explosion of population and infrastructure in the 70s, and a steady decline since. Many of the oil executives vacated their offices due to diminishing industry demand, improved remote working solutions and changes to tax laws. It’s a financial catch-22 in this city, our services suffer as the tax base dwindles, but it’s difficult to attract new tenants to a city with minimal investment in public services.

Western society tends to think of cities as these eternal institutions, too big to fail, as if the globe isn’t dotted with ruins of ancient cities, many of them more impressive than most modern settlements that qualify for ‘city’ status.

I remember when Detroit was considered a potential case study in what would happen if a modern Western city were to fall, though they seem to have avoided that fate for now. It will happen one day though, somewhere. Maybe even here.

In case I have left any room for ambiguity, I do not like my hometown.

Perhaps it’s only redeeming feature is that it’s close to the mountains.

A short drive to numerous parks, both national and provincial, with stunning vistas, clear lakes and an ever present sense of adventure.

When I was young, every holiday was spent in the mountains. I often tell people ‘I grew up out there.’. It’s not technically correct, but it makes a much more compelling story than where I really grew up.

My best memories all take place in the mountains. Skating on frozen lakes, hot chocolate by the fire, cold rivers on hot days, dark skies, bright stars, aurora borealis, hot springs and ancient glacial ice sheets existing next to each other. The paradox of a packed schedule at an unhurried pace.

The place has a magic to it, simultaneously wild and safe. Unknown and familiar.

The innumerable trails that crisscross the parklands would take an entire lifetime to traverse. A noble pursuit, surely.

I tend to return to the same few places: Kananskis Lake, Cat Creek, Ribbon Creek, Banff town centre if I want the comforts of civilization with the quaint anonymity unique to tourist towns.

I think there is comfort in the structure of the mountains themselves, and what they represent. Massive piles of rock, forced together by seismic upheaval, now stable and immovable. Our cities may not last forever, the mountains may not either, but I’d consider them a safer bet in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe in some ways it’s not inaccurate to say I grew up in the mountains, sure the amount of time I spent in the city was greater, but the time spent in the mountains was more meaningful, taught me more.

These days I spend as much time as I can in the mountains. Every weekend, roads and weather permitting.

My hometown is somewhere to leave.

Thankfully there’s an escape nearby.

If you ever find yourself in Calgary, make sure to head out to the mountains.