Socially Distant Banff, Part 1

Banff needs our tourism. With the reopening of the town and the preferences for staying-in-your-own-province tourism, we were able to snag a somewhat last minute hotel reservation that included two rooms and a kitchenette. Friday was no holiday for Canadians so the town was much emptier at the start of our long weekend than it got as the weekend wore on. As we'd all recently acquired hiking clothing and shoes it was also a good opportunity to start breaking things in before our upcoming epic camping road trip. And celebrate that the kids are now my shoe size, so when they grow out of their (apparently very comfortable hiking boots) they will be MINE.

We started the trip with a short hike around Middle Lake. It was absolutely stunning with the wildflowers blooming everywhere. It was humbling and frustrating to know that there was no way to properly capture the colors and depths with camera lens, so I stared around and willed myself to commit the beauty to memory. There just happened to be a picnic table free just before the return to the parking lot, so we could soak in the view a bit longer while eating lunch. Whatever else happened, it was a great start to the trip.

Our attempt at a second short hike on the outskirts of Banff was dashed due to flooding, so we decided to try the hotel and hope we could check in early. No such luck. We let the kids hang out and read while we took a wander around the hotel neighborhood. We managed to find a little prairie dog village and enjoyed watching them run around.

Dinner was at Park Distillery, and was as yummy as we remembered. We were a bit nervous as it was the very first time we'd eaten inside a restaurant in four months. Not only was the city of Banff accommodating - the main street was closed to car traffic and open-sided tents were set up in the middle of the road for breezy, socially-distant dining but the restaurant itself, where our table was, kept things very distant. We ended up at the very front of the restaurant where the enormous, garage-door windows were open so we were essentially eating outside in the breeze.

Finally back to the mountains

For three months there was COVID. Just when restrictions lifted, we used the opening of the mechanic's to get the car fixed - the problem was OK for us to move around the city (our weekly trip to the grocery store) but potentially not safe enough to drive an hour out of the city. So that takes a couple of weeks. Then a weekend with pouring rain. Then Terry does who-knows-what to his foot and can barely walk.

Because he was still not 100% from that last one, we picked a spot where he could walk or sit as much as he liked. Forgetmenot Pond is stunning. The pond itself is pretty small, only about 15 minutes to circumnavigate it. It was a perfect spot for a picnic, some pretty pictures, and I got to walk a few times around and admire the views from all angles.

On our way back we stopped to check out this ram, just hanging out on the side of the road.

We also stopped to see Elbow Falls. It's a very short walk from the parking lot to the falls, and Zoltan and I took a small adventure climbing up on a side path into the woods a bit.

It was not a particularly strenuous day and yet when we got home we were absolutely beat. All that mountain air, I guess? And the COVID getting-out-of-shape?

Rhubarb

Terry's favorite pie is rhubarb. Not rhubarb and strawberry - that's too sweet. His second favorite is apple and that is what he normally gets, because we haven't lived in places where rhubarb is particularly available. There's a family legend of very young me, and a friend, "helping" a neighbor with weeding and pulling up their entire crop. Perhaps that is the root of my earlier aversion?

In any case, when a neighbor on my local Buy Nothing Facebook page asked for help in reducing her enormous rhubarb crop,I was more than happy to start my education about what to do with this bitter fruit.

First up, of course, was the pie.It doesn't look that bad, but what you can't see is the ocean of liquid. We've been having issues with the oven and I am pretty sure it is not to temp (oven thermometer on order as there are none to be found locally. Probably has something to do with all the baking the rest of the world is just now discovering.) It didn't taste bad, once we had drained out a ridiculous volume, but it was not delicious.

Next up was rhababarkuchen from the German baking book our au pair had given me. In true German form, it was a little closer to bread than cake - only the tiniest bit sweet - but much better than the pie. The dough gave the moisture somewhere to go.

Then, the woman who had the glut of rhubarb mentioned again that she was still pretty chock-full and don't forget you can get up to three harvests from one plant. So back I go. A bunch got frozen for future experimentation, and a pound went into apple-rhubarb sauce. Yum.