Only an hour into our drive from Banff to Golden and already we have seen a fiery sunset streaking across the sky, filling the valley and beaming an orange beacon on the mountainside. Was I in the Lord of the Rings? And just before that, a black bear graced us with his presence on the side of the road, meandering about on a green hill. He was in no rush. This was his home, his sanctuary, and we were mere visitors to his kingdom. I wanted give him a high five and perhaps engage in a pillow fight with tickles and giggles. In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t participate in a cuddle battle with the bear; getting mauled this early into the trip would have been a bummer.
We kept driving.
Hours later, we arrived in Golden, a small town in a sleepy valley surrounded by imposing mountains. But the GPS lady in all her wisdom told us to keep going. I swore I booked a cabin in Golden. Were we to appear on the local news the next day as one of those hilarious and sad tragedies involving cars driving off the cliffs by GPS command?