Why It Will Keep Me Coming Back to the Rockies

I didn’t come to Canmore with a plan.

I came with something simpler: a pull.

To move.

To breathe air not packaged in deadlines.

To stand beneath something ancient enough to make my worries feel appropriately small.

It took hours of travel from Ottawa to get here. But the shift I needed wasn’t in distance — it was in pace, in presence, in permission to slow down.

A Trek That Quieted My Head

This morning, I laced up early and took the trail to Johnston Canyon.

It wasn’t heroic. No summit shot. Just me, my wife, and a niece with her husband and 2 daughters, and the thunder of waterfalls growing louder with each bend. That sound — water meeting rock with centuries of persistence — that echoed deeper than I expected.

I felt it in my ribs.

In that pocket of stillness, I wasn’t thinking about inboxes or sales funnels or that one domain lead who ghosted after I declined his low-ball offer to purchase one of our premium one-word domain names.

I was just… walking. Fully, finally present.

There’s something about this rocky mountain that makes you put your phone away. Not out of guilt, but out of reverence.

The land doesn’t demand your attention. It just earns it.

The Rockies Don't Rush You

Tomorrow, we’ll head into Banff.

And I’ll be honest — I’ve never been there, and never seen it before.

Not in photos. Not in person. Not in the way that matters.

I’ve heard people talk about it — the postcard views, the blue beyond belief of Lake Louise, the quiet majesty of Moraine Lake, the way the mountains rise like guardians of some older truth.

But I haven’t seen it with my own eyes. Not yet. And that alone feels sacred.

There’s something about anticipating a place like Banff — the way your mind builds it up, layering secondhand stories with your own, unspoken hopes.

You try not to expect too much. But deep down, you know you’re chasing a feeling — that moment when nature stops being a background and becomes the whole scene.

I’m not going in with a checklist. I’m going in with openness.

Because I don’t want to just visit Banff.

I want to let Banff visit something in me — the part that’s been too busy, too practical, too boxed in by digital grids.

And if what people say is true, I won’t come back with just pictures.

I’ll come back with something quieter.

Something lasting.

The Deeper Meaning of Going Places

People think we travel to escape.

But I think we travel to remember.

To remember that joy doesn’t only live on screens. That clarity lives in silence. That awe is still out there — uncurated, unfiltered, waiting.

Canada offers all that in a quiet voice. Not the loud like a city. Not chaotic like a trending feed. But steady. Patient. Timeless.

And if you let it, this place reshapes you — not with urgency, but with gentle exposure.

Where to Start

If you’ve ever thought of seeing Canada — really seeing it — here’s a visual companion to get your heart moving before your feet do:

👇Top 10 Best Places to Visit in Canada

(Watch this while you pack, while you dream, or just when you need reminding that there’s more out there than your day-to-day loops.)

The Obvious Reason

Banff was the obvious destination. But something about staying just outside — in the quieter pulse of Canmore — felt more aligned with what I needed.

This morning, I woke before sunrise. No alarm. No agenda. Just that kind of mountain stillness that makes your body aware of itself again. The air here doesn’t ask you to rush. It just reminds you to notice.

I sipped coffee while the first hints of gold cracked through the peaks, and for a brief moment, I felt what I hadn’t felt in weeks: presence.

I’ll be in Banff tomorrow. I have no checklist.

Just a warm jacket, a camera, and the intention to keep showing up for these moments — the kind that don’t need captions.

Because some places don’t just stay with you after the trip.

They stay with you long enough to guide the next one.

The Power of Place

There’s a reason we romanticize the Rockies. But it’s not just the postcard views or bucket-list hikes. It’s how the land feels ancient enough to humble you, but open enough to invite your story in.

I’ve traveled a lot — sometimes to write, sometimes to escape, sometimes just to move. But Canada… it's the kind of vastness that slows your ego down just enough to hear yourself again.

Whether it’s the turquoise shock of Lake Louise, the poetic stillness of Moraine Lake, or the raw wind along the Icefields Parkway, these places don’t just impress you.

They unfold you.