CHASING TURQUOISE LAKES, ANCIENT ICEFIELDS, AND TERRIFYING WATERFALLS - CANADA JOURNEY

We kicked off our road trip from Banff to Jasper, driving along the scenic Icefields Parkway. It was incredibly beautiful and picturesque.

Our first stop was the Peyto Lake Viewpoint at Bow Summit, the highest drivable point on the Parkway. Thanks to recent structural updates, the walk from the main car park to the Main Observation Deck was a smooth, paved, 0.4-mile uphill stroll. It takes about 10 to 15 minutes to ascend and is entirely wheelchair- and stroller-accessible.

From the spacious wooden platform, we got an elevated look at the entire lake and the vast Mistaya Valley. The lake features a unique delta formed by Caldron Creek that pinches the water into a perfect silhouette of a wolf's head, complete with ears and a snout.

The lake is named after Ebenezer William "Bill" Peyto, an eccentric 19th-century mountain guide who genuinely preferred the company of glaciers over humans. He emigrated from England to Canada in 1887 and quickly gained a reputation as one of the most capable mountain guides, trappers, and early park wardens in the Canadian Rockies. 

Local legend says that once, wanting a quiet drink to himself, Wild Bill walked into a crowded Banff saloon and released a live, wild lynx he had trapped. Naturally, the terrified patrons cleared out, leaving Peyto to enjoy his beverage in absolute peace.

Peyto Lake sports an "impossible" neon-blue color that reminded me of the Pangong Lake in Ladakh. It comes from glacial rock flour—fine silt particles from the melting Peyto Glacier that suspend in the water and perfectly scatter blue-green sunlight. 

We were lucky to catch it fully thawed in September. The trailhead has vault toilets but no running water or cell reception. If one wants to hike past the main deck to unpaved paths like the "Big Rock" viewpoint, taking bear spray is highly recommended.

Satiated by the views, we drove ahead to Saskatchewan River Crossing, the confluence of the North Saskatchewan, Howse, and Mistaya rivers.

This historic 19th-century trading crossroads is the only place offering basic services (gas, food, and lodging) between Lake Louise and Jasper. Because it has a monopoly on the highway, gasoline prices are routinely higher than anywhere else. 

Our next major stop was the Columbia Icefield Glacier Discovery Centre, even before we reached it, we were tasting the tantalising views of the glacier.

To head out onto the Athabasca Glacier, you cannot drive your regular vehicle unless you want to slide into a crevasse and become a permanent historical exhibit.

Instead, you board a small, dusty bus that transfers you to the Ice Explorer—a legendary, massive 6-wheel-drive monster truck with low-pressure tyres, designed specifically to crunch over rocky moraines and thick ice sheets.

We can also book the "Fat Truck" (Ice Odyssey), which offers smaller, enclosed all-terrain vehicles for a more intimate group experience.

Our Ice Explorer driver was a jovial Canadian who masterfully steered the giant beast directly onto the ice. We were allowed to step off into a designated safety zone for 20 to 30 minutes to walk on ice that is hundreds of years old. 

The surface was actively melting into clear streams, and we actually scooped up and drank pure, freezing-cold glacier water right off the ground.

The terrain here is a spectacular, frozen high-altitude plateau framed by an amphitheatre of towering limestone giants, including Mount Columbia (Alberta's highest point), Mount Andromeda, and Mount Kitchener.

As the Athabasca Glacier spills over three colossal bedrock steps like a slow-motion waterfall, the ice fractures into a chaotic maze of deep crevasses that glow with a luminous, compressed neon-blue hue.

Meanwhile, the lower edges showcase a stark, grey moonscape of crushed rock and moraines left behind by the receding ice.

Carving through the barren debris are freezing, milky-turquoise streams of glacial silt, which eventually feed the major river systems of western Canada. 

Underneath this frozen upper world lies a hidden labyrinth: the Castleguard cave system, which stretches for over 23 kilometers through Cambrian limestone directly beneath the icefield.

After happily crunching around on the glacier, a shuttle coach took us to the Columbia Icefield Skywalk. It features a horseshoe-shaped platform with a transparent glass floor suspended at a casual 918 feet directly above the Sunwapta Valley floor. One can peer at the rushing river below and spot bighorn sheep or mountain goats navigating the sheer cliffs with far more grace than us.

Our final stop of the day was the Athabasca Falls in Jasper National Park. It isn't famous for its height, but for the absolutely terrifying, violent force of the Athabasca River crashing through a narrow quartzite gorge.

The sheer force of the water hits us directly, reminding us that we are so fragile and vulnerable before mighty nature.

A short, paved trail led us to secure viewing platforms right over the roaring 75-foot drop. We walked down concrete stairs into a narrow, shaded rock corridor—an ancient, dry path the river cut centuries ago before changing its mind and shifting course. Beyond the bridges, the turbulent canyon waters suddenly calm down into a wide, scenic riverbed backed by Mount Kerkeslin.

We have to stay strictly behind the designated safety railings. The rocks are perpetually wet, covered in mist, and coated in slick algae. A single slip means we become one with the turbulent gorge, and no one wants to end a great road trip that way, I am sure!

BANFF BEYOND THE PEAKS -CANADA JOURNEY

Finally, we reached Banff, a world-famous resort town in Alberta, Canada. Situated within the spellbinding Canadian Rockies, it is Canada's highest municipality at an elevation of 4,537 feet above sea level. 

After checking into our rooms, we decided to stroll on the streets of Banff before calling it a day.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this gorgeous town is its strict preservation laws. One cannot simply buy a house and move to Banff town. To prevent development from overtaking delicate wildlife habitats, federal law completely froze Banff's commercial and physical footprints.

To qualify for home ownership or residency, individuals must prove a strict 'need to reside' by working or running a business locally. Because of this protective barrier, the permanent population sits at a cozy 8,000 residents—who astonishingly and efficiently play host to over 4 million tourists every single year.

We came across a quaint brewhouse labeled Husband Daycare, and of course my hubby loved it.

Banff was originally put on the map in the 1880s by the creation of the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR). The president of the railway named the town after his birthplace: Banffshire, Scotland. In 1883, railway workers accidentally discovered local geothermal hot springs, a historic breakthrough that directly led to the establishment of Canada's very first national park.

While exploring, we came across the Federal Heritage Railway Station of Banff. Built in 1910 by the CPR to serve elite Edwardian tourists, it has been cleverly repurposed today as a central hub for free public parking, keeping tourist cars out of the crowded downtown core. While passenger rail choices are now highly specific—such as the daylight-only luxury train operated by the famous Rocky Mountaineer from Vancouver—the tracks themselves remain incredibly busy with heavy industrial freight trains operated by Canadian Pacific Kansas City (CPKC).

Unfortunately, these busy industrial tracks present a major local environmental hazard. Grains constantly spill from the heavy cargo cars, creating an accidental giant buffet that attracts local grizzly bears and elk, sadly leading to frequent train strikes. Speaking of wildlife, large elk herds are known to wander freely directly down residential streets and through public parks. 

While we didn't spot any elk during our stroll, we did find the local ice cream shop! Eating a freezing cold ice cream cone on a genuinely chilly September day provided an absolute thrill.

No matter where we walked in the town, our view was framed by the massive, iconic 2,998-meter peak of Cascade Mountain. Named in 1858 by James Hector after the cascading waterfalls lining its southern flanks, the mountain is also remembered in local Indigenous culture and history as Stoney Chief. The trail to the summit is a punishingly long, steep, and challenging day hike. Towering right alongside it over the townscape is the equally magnificent Mount Rundle.

The next morning, we boarded a hotel shuttle bus for a 15-kilometer ride outside of town to Banff Sunshine Village. 

This world-renowned alpine resort is uniquely situated directly on the Continental Divide of the Canadian Rockies, split across Banff National Park in Alberta and Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park in British Columbia.

Because of this high-altitude geographic sweet spot, it catches massive weather patterns and receives significantly more snowfall than neighbouring resorts, averaging over 9 meters of snow per year. This allows it to boast one of North America's longest non-glacial ski seasons, running from early November to late May.

The area encompasses over 3,300 acres of skiable terrain spread across three major mountain peaks, each showcasing distinct vantage points.

Mount Standish: Features wide beginner slopes and the Standish Viewing Deck, which overlooks three high-alpine lakes (Rock Isle, Grizzly, and Laryx).

Lookout Mountain: Known for wide-open bowls, sweeping high alpine terrain, and spectacular views across jagged ridgelines.

Goat's Eye Mountain: Offers steep, highly challenging expert terrain with rugged, sustained fall-line views of the surrounding wilderness.

Historically, the area served as a popular high-alpine camping site in the 1920s and was affectionately nicknamed 'Tee Pee Town'. Commercial downhill ski resort operations were developed in the 1930s by the Brewster family, though the oldest building remaining on site is the Old Sunshine Lodge, constructed back in 1928 by the Canadian Pacific Railway.

Today, the upper village and ski runs are entirely car-free. The shuttle dropped us off at the gondola base, where we boarded a massive, high-speed 8-person gondola. The ride up takes about 18 minutes to cruise to the upper village plaza.

In the summer and autumn, Sunshine Village switches from a winter wonderland to an eco-tourism paradise where hikers can explore the magnificent wildflower fields of Sunshine Meadows.

Gliding over the terrain, I felt these mountains have stories of their own, the land is deeply respected indigenously, and I observed that the flowers merrily move to their own rhythm.

Upon arriving at the lower Sunshine Village area, park rangers gave us a lovely, comforting orientation session on 'How to Avoid Being Eaten by Grizzly Bears on the Trail,' and we made sure to purchase bear spray just in case.

From there, we literally jumped onto the Standish Chairlift—a completely open-air lift that you have to leap onto while it's actively moving! I spent the entire 8-minute ride white-knuckling the metal safety bars for dear life, way too terrified to even pull my phone out of my pocket.

Stepping off the chair brought us to an elevation of over 8,000 feet, marking the highest lift-accessed sightseeing point in Banff National Park. The view was magical.

From the Standish Viewing Desk, we could clearly see three pristine turquoise lakes, Rock Isle, Grizzly, and Laryx, shimmering below us, and the rugged, glacier-carved peaks stretching all the way to Mount Assiniboine along the border of Alberta and British Columbia. 

Visiting in September was perfect; the summer crowds were gone, the crisp air made trail hiking comfortable, and we were treated to a unique blend of changing fall foliage and early snow frosting the high peaks.

That evening, our group headed to Sulphur Mountain to catch the sunset and have dinner on the roof of the Rockies. Towering directly over the south side of the town at an elevation of 7,486 feet, Sulphur Mountain is the most visited peak in Banff. It takes its name from the active thermal hot springs bubbling from its lower slopes. 

While we were whisked up to the summit complex in a swift 8-minute gondola ride that treated us to a 360-degree panorama over the Bow Valley, ambitious hikers can bypass the lift entirely by climbing a 5.5-kilometer switchback trail (taking 2 to 3 hours). In a fun twist, surviving this gruelling winter hike rewards hikers with a completely free gondola ride back down!

At the top, the air was chilly, and clouds played a beautiful game of hide-and-seek among the summits.

We walked along the 1-kilometer elevated wooden boardwalk that leads directly to Sanson’s Peak. Standing fully intact at the end of the boardwalk is the historic 1903 stone weather observatory used by meteorologist Norman Sanson, who diligently hiked up here to record data for nearly 30 years. The peak is a designated national historic site and has also hosted a specialized high-altitude laboratory to study cosmic radiation.

To cap off our mountain adventures, we dined at the famous Sky Bistro, an award-winning fine-dining venue located inside the summit complex. Perched right on the roof of the mountains, the restaurant features dramatic floor-to-ceiling glass walls that showcase panoramic views of six distinct Rocky Mountain ranges. It specialises in high-end, locally sourced Canadian cuisine, and because of its world-class views, reservations are highly competitive and must be booked months in advance. (For families or more casual dining, the adjacent Northern Lights Alpine Kitchen offers a buffet option with the exact same summit view).

Sitting beside the glass windows, looking out at the endless waves of mountains while chatting with new friends, was a truly surreal experience.

Watching the sun dip behind the rugged Canadian Rockies left us leaving Sulphur Mountain with full bellies, tired legs, and spectacular memories to last a lifetime.