A Postcard From... Sulphur Mountain, Banff

The adrenaline from the gondola has worn off, but not the novelty. Seeing the mountains get closer until you’re soaring over them was like something out of a dream, with the tiny figures below you navigating the steep path while you fly over them.

The view is stunning up there in the bluest sky; seven and a half thousand feet in the air and while the sun is blazing, it’s barely above freezing.

You take your obligatory selfie. You buy the sweetest drink you’ve ever had in your life to warm your hands up (maple chai latte). You have a little peruse at the gift shop and the exhibition. You walk around the viewing platform and see if you can spot your hostel in the tiny chocolate box town below you.

Finally, the only thing left to do is walk along the ridge of the mountain with the other tourists. You all bundle along, very politely sticking to the left and watching the ground squirrels as they crisscross the rocks below the wooden walkway. You stay out of other people’s selfies and even though it’s not too busy, you’re still jostled along in the wave of other groups.

Until you’re not.

The first thing you notice is the silence.

The group that you had been trailing behind have carried on and no one has taken their place, leaving you blissfully alone.

There’s no wind and the sounds of humanity are muffled enough to be ignored. There’s only you and the mountains around you.

The second thing you notice is the stillness.

Like the earth has taken a deep breath just for you. You can almost feel the weight of the mountains beneath you and the snow beside you. In an instant it’s like your mind has expanded to contain the entire mountain range.

It only lasts a moment but it feels like infinity.

Until it doesn’t.

The group behind you has caught up to you and you have no choice but to carry on walking with the feeling that you just lost something special, but at least you got to experience it at all.