A journal, not a magazine
Two ex-Torontonians figuring out mountain life, one ridge at a time. Dated posts, alternating voices, and the honest bits we don’t put on Instagram.
This is a personal blog. We are not affiliated with any lift or attraction operator. We don’t sell tickets and we never process payments — we just write about what it’s like to live here.
Recent posts
Four years in the valley and we’d never actually done the summit ride. Then Tom’s parents came to visit. Here’s the eight minutes in the cabin, the wind, the raven who thought our selfie was for him, and the honest bit about the first gust of wind on the boardwalk.
Sarah keeps saying “bring the windproof” and I keep saying “it’s ten degrees, don’t be dramatic.” This post is my apology, in blog form. Notes on the weather station shelter, the gaps in the boardwalk railings, and why my summer photos of the ridge look nothing like the calendar version.
Every year around the third week of September the alpine larches turn. It’s about ten days. Get it wrong by a week either side and you’re looking at green needles or bare twigs. Here’s our small, deeply personal ritual of trying to catch it perfectly and mostly failing.
Mum has a bad knee and dad hates queues. This was the trip that finally taught me how to plan a summit day with actual humans in mind — parking, timed entry windows, the hot springs after — instead of just showing up with a camera. A short practical guide from the day we messed most of it up.
There’s a switchback trail up the same mountain that costs nothing. Eleven kilometres round trip, about 700 m of elevation, and at the top you meet the tourists who took the cabin. On tired legs, honestly, we like it better. Post about the trailhead, the switchbacks, and how long it actually takes.
Every year the same thing happens: the aspen leaves go yellow, we say “another week probably”, and then one Wednesday we wake up and there’s snow on the ridge lines. A short weather post with too many photos taken through a slightly dirty window.
Two years ago we started writing these posts as long e-mails to friends back in Toronto who kept asking “so what is it actually like?”. Enough of them said “you should put this online” that eventually we did. There’s no schedule, no editor, no ads, and no tickets to sell. Just what we notice on a good week.
