A Month in the Wild

This article is also featured in the Blue Beret Magazine, a printed publication of Airstream Club International

Oh Canada! I’ve fallen in love with your Rockies. This story is about delightful new friendships and magnificent nature I stumbled upon during another summer in the land of the maple leaf.

On a Sunday morning in late July, I meandered north through Banff National Park and turned into Waterfowl Lakes Campground, hoping to score a campsite. To my surprise, a riverside spot was open and I backed right in.

I was un-hooking my trailer when the man from the site next to me dropped by: “I saw that big shiny rig roll by and I thought, ‘That guy is gonna have a hard time backing that thing into any of these sites!’” He laughed. “And whoa!! You did it on your first try, and by yourself!”

Jim asked about my kayak and bike, invited me for a paddle, and asked about the IAFF (Firefighter’s Union) sticker on my truck. We bonded over our mutual careers in the fire service. He was a retired Banff Fire Department Deputy Chief.

Jim and I were the first two pieces of a puzzle that was falling into place. An hour later, a lady named Jenn set up camp on the other side of me. Jim’s friend Nigel joined us soon after. Within a matter of hours, the four of us became an inseparable family. For the next few days we did everything together: hikes, meals, early morning and evening walks. We didn’t want to be apart. 

Jim, Kristy, Nigel and Jen on an after dinner walk

Jim led us on a bushwhacking hike to a large, pristine glacier-fed lake that had no trace of other humans. A few weeks before he’d hauled a kayak through the forest, and hid it under the broad branches of fir trees near the lake. We took turns paddling through a Rocky Mountain paradise. Nigel, an Australian, caught trout for dinner with a line wrapped around a stick. Jenn, a biologist, shared information about birds, toads, and other flora and fauna we happened upon.

Kayaking the Secret Lake in Banff National Park

Another day we hiked 11 miles round trip to Cirque Peak (9840 ft/3000m). During the last, steep 1000 feet of the climb, I gasped for air and felt dizzy. Jim, the 66 year old mountain goat, strolled up as if it was a walk in the park.

At the summit I was completely spent. I pressed my hand against a bolder to try to steady my quivering legs. “If I’m half as fit as you in 20 years I’ll be winning at life,” I told him. We looked out over snowcapped mountain peaks and glaciers.
“I knew you’d make it,” Jim said. “You’ve got that fire fighter grit.”

Jim and Me at the Summit

Our campsites were in the forest along a river about 12 miles south of Jasper National Park. I had to work, and the campground had no cell service, so I left my little family in search of an open field where I could be connected for a few days. (There is zero cell service in most of the Canadian Rockies, so I resorted to Starlink for a couple months).

Off highway 11, on a two lane road a few miles from the southern entrance to Jasper National Park, I found the perfect spot. My plan was to camp there and go to Jasper for a short hike when I finished work.

As soon as I had internet connection, my phone went berserk with notifications, texts and voicemail. Jasper National Park was burning. I had no clue. My Mom and close friends knew I was near Jasper and were worried. I felt so loved.

I waited for several days, hoping to continue north. The photos and news coming from Jasper, just north of me, were bleak, and I knew I had to either head south on a route I’d already explored heavily, or keep heading east on highway 11 (which seemed like a road to nowhere).

A curious thing happened, as soon as I stopped wanting to be somewhere else, I realized what a jewel of a place I had landed in. A bit east of my first site, in Kootenay Plains- Alberta, I found the most beautiful off grid camping site I’ve ever lived in.

Sunrise View from My Front Yard

A couple weeks into my stay there, the night of August 11th, was a crowning jewel for reveling in nature. The night before, people with Texas license plates had puzzled me by setting up a tent a 75 feet from my front door. People don’t normally camp so close in big, wild areas. At 2am they were out and about using headlamps. It turned out they were sky chasers, and our front yard was the perfect place to see the whole sky.

“Tonight will be a special night,” the husband said. “It’s the height of the Perseid meteor shower and the aurora should be pretty good too.” They encouraged me to put my phone on a tripod, take a nap, and be ready to be up until the wee hours. I had never seen the aurora and did what I was told.

At 10:30 p.m. the aurora was green. We expected it in the north, which it was, but it was brighter to the southeast. Then, a rainbow of light flooded the west sky as well. The colors ranged from greens to reds to purples, and from thin clouds of color to thick sheets with abrupt square edges. My first aurora sighting was splashed with the fireworks of the meteor shower too!

By 11:30 we stood in the midst of a phenomenon that some people who chase auroras for decades don’t experience. The crown─the point where all the light meets─was directly above us. We were in the center of a bowl of light. The colors were dancing above and around us like waves in a storm. The once-dark sky was alive with an intense display of frolicking neon lights, with thousands of pinprick stars and zaps of meteors.

It felt like a ballroom dance of the heavens, where I was the beloved being danced. I felt like someone who’d never tasted chocolate and was tasting my first bite of the finest of chocolates. According to my new friends, my first experience of the aurora was an usually spectacular display.

View of the Aurora to the North

If we’d been in Jasper National Park, where we’d all planned to be, the aurora would likely have been just a pretty swath of colors in the eastern sky. To witness what we were witnessing, we had to be in this exact spot. It was pure luck (or divine happenstance) to be here. A humbling experience for sure.

That evening was the sky gazing night of a lifetime according to my aurora-chasing friends. We all agreed there was no way to put what we witnessed into words … though I’ve tried. I stood there in awe until 2 a.m; my friends stayed out until sunrise.

I lived at that spot for almost four weeks, settling into a super creative space. Often, I woke up at 2 or 3 a.m. and worked at my outdoor desk for hours. The expansive views from my front “yard,” coupled with zero distractions, allowed me to just be with my two my biggest creative projects yet.

The splendor of my surroundings inspired me to create a 2025 wall calendar featuring the most beautiful places I’ve visited over the last several years.

In February we paraglide along canyon updrafts at sunset. I was enjoying a peaceful evening when a pack of pickup trucks rolled up, guys hopped out and jumped off a cliff.

In March we’ll taste salt air as waves crash on Newfoundland cliffs. That’s where I snapped my rib and almost died, and parked here to heal and rest.

In April, gravel will crunch in the silence of Grand Teton hikes under pink skies. Most think you can’t find solitude in National Parks. I do, and I’ll spill the beans on how you can too. More on this below.

Fun fact: between July 19th and August 22nd I did not see a traffic light or store, I had no cell service, I drove my truck four times and I put 200 miles on my bicycle and 100 on my hiking boots. The nearest grocery store was a three hour round trip, which seemed like a waste of time and fuel.

I hadn’t planned to go over a month without a grocery shop, but my supplies lasted, helped by surprise gifts of food from fellow campers out in the bush. One couple offered me all the garden fresh veggies they had left in their fridge, which sustained me for almost another week!

On August 22, I rolled east with an empty fridge and a full heart. Boondocking in Kootenay Plains was priceless: waterfront view, dark skies, fresh air, and the richness of conversations with neighbors lucky enough to wake up to pink clouds over mountain peaks and big horned sheep.

On this magnificent coddiwomple journey, I live in continual amazement at what arrives and what wants to be experienced.

Would you like to come along on a Coddiwomple adventure? The 2025 Coddiwomple Chronicles wall calendar is a yearlong portal into the natural wonderment of off-grid travel. This is an invitation to be wowed by an incredible adventure.

Matching greeting cards feature a photo and an inspiring quote on the front, a short story on the back, and a blank inside.

These make great gifts to inspire adventure in your friends and family.
Click here to check out the 2025 Calendars and cards in my shop.

Assorted Greeting Cards that Match the Calendar

Would you like to have more fun, live at ease, and let all stress melt away? Through one on one mentoring and coaching, you’ll realize more happiness, freedom, contentment, confidence, creativity… problems fade and decisions become a breeze. Curious? Check out more here and let’s have a call to discuss what is possible. 

Get articles like this one delivered to your inbox

If you would like to receive intriguing stories, thoughts and ideas in your inbox once every month or so, sign up for the newsletter by clicking HERE

Here are more posts: