Lost in Jasper
The journey started with a two-way shuttle out to Maligne Lake, a massive 22-kilometer stretch of water that can only be fully navigated by boat. Boarding the cruise to Spirit Island, I watched the water shift from a rich green to a deep, glacier-fed blue the closer we got. The cruise host spent much of the trip discussing the history of the land, pointing out that motorized boats can only go halfway because the remaining waterway and Spirit Island itself are sacred to Indigenous peoples who hold ceremonies there. Hearing about the centuries of history and the deep disruption caused by European settlers left me reflecting on the past and the long road to reconciliation.
Back on shore, I wanted to hike Bald Hill, but I was terrified of going solo without bear spray. Out of nowhere, a Chinese immigrant living in Edmonton approached me, and we decided to hit the trail together. Knowing I had a tight shuttle schedule, he even offered to drive me back to town if we ran late. The views along the way were stunning, though it was bitterly cold and windy at the summit, so he kindly lent me his jacket while we ate lunch overlooking the mountain range. He was in his 50s, recovering from an injury, and took a few uphill breaks, but going down, we flew past groups of people. It turned out he was a veteran hiker who had even tackled the brutal 25-kilometer Sentinel Pass. We lucked out with sunshine on the peak before he drove me back through a pouring rainstorm, where I got excited seeing elks and Canada geese for the first time in my life.
The next day, I ventured out alone to Patricia and Pyramid Lake. Armed with bear spray and blasting Ariana Grande's *Eternal Sunshine* to ward off my intense fear of bears, I trudged along. The real terror hit on a trail called Lost Land. True to its name, there was no visible path—just untouched wildland where I was stepping directly on grass and wildflowers. The silence was deafening until I locked eyes with a massive male elk staring right at me. My heart pounded against my chest as I gripped my bear spray for dear life. Escaping back to town felt like a miracle, and I rewarded my frayed nerves with a free outdoor concert in Commemoration Park.
My final day was a comedy of errors. I managed to forget my bear spray twice, delaying my start until 3 p.m. On the Old Fort Loop, I realized I had dropped the silicone mouthpiece from my water pack. I doubled back to search for it, came up empty-handed, and had a mini-meltdown on the side of the mountain. Exhausted and frustrated, I sat there doom-scrolling Instagram for a while, getting sucked down a rabbit hole of posts about Argentina cheating in the World Cup final and Spain beating them.
Pulling myself together, I impulsively tackled another 6-kilometer trek to Lake Beauvert, Lake Annet, and Lake Edith. The solitary wilderness was still nerve-wracking, but I only ran into more elks instead of bears. I finally reached Lake Edith right at sunset, sitting by the water to eat chocolate chip cookies for dinner before stumbling back to town at 9:30 p.m., completely spent.
Back at the hostel, I ran into a guy who had missed a lunch invitation with me at Caesar Steakhouse in Calgary. He explained his rental car had broken down, and without my social media, he couldn't reach me. We swapped Instagram handles on the spot. It was a good end to the stay, though sharing an 8-person dorm made it hard to connect with anyone over three nights. I've realized smaller, more compact hostel rooms are definitely better for making real connections.
