QUIET THE MIND LAT ITU DES
ALONE ON TOP OF THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE,we sink forward in our boots and feel the sun burn our faces. We stare out at rows of pyramidal peaks veined with unspoiled couloirs and wide open bowls. I consider counting the mountains, an old habit more about meditation than mathematics. My mind itches. There are a lot of mountains.
My host, 25-year-old Carter McMillan, and I are at Sunshine Village. It’s one of three independently owned ski areas operating in Banff, which was established in 1885 as Canada’s first national park. Lake Louise Ski Resort is barely visible to the northwest. Mount Norquay is off to the east, obscured by the limestone fins and spires of the Northern Rockies. Banff, population 9,300, sits low in the valley at Norquay’s feet.
The Trans-Canada Highway grants access to it all, and somewhere below, there’s infrastructure to accommodate over 3 million tourists per year. It only took a few chairlifts and a short bootpack to get here, the summit of 8,954-foot Lookout Mountain. Yet it’s quiet. I feel miles and centuries away from humanity’s sprawl. The largest town within a Canadian national park, Banff might exist precariously, torn between progress and preservation, if not
