As I write this week’s column, my bestie Lynne and I are flying from Calgary, on our way back to Cayman.
We were only in the province of Alberta, Canada, for four days, but managed to squeeze a lot into that time. It would have been a slightly longer stay if our Delta flight on our outward journey hadn’t left Atlanta late, getting us into Minneapolis-St. Paul in just enough time to wave our connecting plane goodbye. That forced us to stay overnight in the twin cities.
A word of caution: The InterContinental hotel that says it is attached to the airport isn’t technically lying, but it ain’t a cakewalk to get there. If a lovely man driving one of those golf carts hadn’t recognised our need for a lift through what had to be over a mile of concourses, they probably would have found us on the floor in the morning, sleeping between Starbucks and Brookstone around gate E21, covered in unravelled toilet roll for warmth.
The whole reason for the trip was to attend a friend’s surprise 60th birthday party on the Saturday night. As we arrived (finally) at Calgary International Airport around lunchtime on the Friday, we were immediately greeted by friendly ‘podners’ in head-to-toe western gear, happy to direct us to where we needed to go. Did I mention we were landing right in the middle of Stampede? If you’re not familiar with Stampede, you must not like horses, cowboy hats/boots/chaps, rodeos, country music, or carnival food that makes KFC seem downright healthy. It also means that rental cars are hard to find and hotel rooms are expensive. Calgary Stampede is pretty famous around them thar parts… and elsewhere.
Everyone in the city gets into the spirit of it. Our hotel had a tent, wagon and hay bales in the lobby, with western scenes painted on its main windows, wooden surrounds on the front desk, and wagon wheels anywhere they would fit. Driving through downtown, we saw people from all countries and cultures sporting fringed jackets, cowboy hats, plaid shirts and boots. In Chinatown, we spied a group of Chinese grandmothers making their way along the pavement dressed for all the world as though they were heading off to wrangle themselves some dinner and serve it up with a mess o’ taters. Restaurants had Stampede specials; there were pop-up wagon bars in some of the open areas; and at the main grounds, there were activities every day, with rodeos in the afternoon and concerts at night.
Before we partook of the cowpoke bounty, we decided to grab the opportunity to go to the mountains for a night. Y’see, two hours’ drive out of Calgary are the Canadian Rockies. Lake Louise, Banff Springs… absolutely breathtaking scenery. Our friend Lea Marinelli came along with us, and her knowledge of the area was second-to-none. She pointed out one mountain after the next (along with how many of them she had hiked/skied, which made me feel like a couch potato lump). We first drove to Lake Louise, which I had visited previously, but Lynne had never seen. It was as stunning as I remembered, although overrun with tourists. We might have stayed at the Fairmont Lake Louise – an iconic hotel – if it hadn’t been a gazillion dollars a night. Instead, we had booked a night at the Paradise Lodge and Bungalows, which did not disappoint. There were single cabins, and then suites in larger buildings. It was an idyllic property with amazing views of pine trees and the mountains. I was worried that there was no air-conditioning in the rooms, but we really didn’t need it. We left the windows open and were cosy in our beds with duvets. It was so wonderful to sleep breathing fresh air. Even if it was cool enough in Cayman, I’d wake up in the morning looking like a jackfruit, covered in raised mosquito bites.
The place also had a laundry, which was a big bonus, as Lynne and I had not been savvy travellers packing an extra change of clothes in our carry-on bags. With the unexpected overnight in Minnesota, we had been wearing the same outfits for over 24 hours. It was nice to get them smelling clean again – for us and for all within a 50-foot radius.
The next day, we heard we’d narrowly missed the ‘opportunity’ to see a grizzly bear and her cub. They had been in our area, where two hikers had come upon them and luckily lived to tell the tale. I love wildlife ‘n’ all, but even I know when to avoid certain creatures.
Before returning to the city of Calgary, we stopped by Banff Springs where an even more impressive Fairmont resides. It was here, for the first time, that Lynne and I realised how unfamiliar we were with walking any kind of elevations. We huffed and puffed our way around the property, and took in the sight of some waterfalls from a park bench.
“We can take a walk and get closer, and if we climb up over there, we can see them from the top,” Lea said, oblivious to our panting. We just took her word for it.
It was glorious to see those mountains – a completely different natural beauty from Cayman – but a slew of 10-gallon hats and hoedowns was awaiting us back in the city.
We certainly made the most of our remaining time in Calgary. The surprise party was a roaring success, with the birthday boy genuinely shocked to see us all there. We had a meal in Chinatown, enjoyed fine dining overlooking a lake, and went to the Stampede rodeo which, based on ticket availability, was mildly more popular than Taylor Swift.
Thanks to Lea’s connections, we managed to procure some amazing seats, overlooking the cowboys getting onto their horses before the beasts did everything they could to get them off again in the middle of the arena. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a chiropractor’s booth set up, ready to admit new clients.
The cowgirls on their steeds were also very impressive, making tight circles around the barrels, then flying back out with their hats still on. Loud cheers could be heard all around the stadium. It was quite the atmosphere. There were lots of competitions that day, including calf wrangling. We felt a bit sorry for the calves, with quite a few loping out in front of the audience, clearly knowing what was coming (a lasso around the neck, then unceremoniously plonked down on the ground), almost exuding an air of “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
After the rodeo, we made our way past endless booths selling everything from deep-fried Oreos to funnel cakes, loaded hot dogs and ice cream. There were carnival rides, games that were practically impossible to win, and costumed characters from ‘Paw Patrol’ patiently taking endless pictures with excited kids. We visited the indigenous people’s camp, which featured extraordinary tipis (tee-pees), music and dancing demonstrations.
At some point, the sun came out, so – ironically – I ended up with more of a sunburn than I’ve got in Cayman in years. I’ll call it a farmer’s chest. At least I finally felt that I was part of the crowd with my red neck and jeans, as none of those cowboy hats would come close to fitting my huge cranium.
It was hard to believe, when we were flying out from Calgary, that we’d only been there for such a short period of time. We’d done so much, and I had a new appreciation for the boot-scootin’-boogie lifestyle. I’m not saying I’m going to immerse myself, but who knows? Maybe I’ll show up at the Country & Western Bar and try a bit of line dancing one of these days.
Yee-haw!
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