A lot of thought went in to where to go for our honeymoon. James planned it, but we first spent some time just googling and talking together about where we wanted to go. Like most honeymooners, we initially thought of doing the whole beach resort business. But after contemplating hurricanes, reading lots of reviews, and taking a good look at our pasty burn-prone selves in the mirror, we decided that was maybe not the best call. And thus we ended up in the mountains.

I cannot begin to describe how perfect it was. Our mountain retreat was the perfect blend of pampered comfort and rugged beauty. We James quickly nixed my plan of attacking the guidebook on the first day and making a detailed plan of what to do all week, so each morning was a lazy start, followed by a fun day reveling in the beauty that is Banff, followed by a lazy end. We rested lots, ate well, hiked far, saw a bear, SAW A BEAR (in case you missed it, and yes, I did sing on trails after that to avoid being mauled), and got to enjoy a stunning place that neither of us had been before.

At some point during the week, probably after saying “Wow, wow WOW” for the millionth time at another perfect vista, James turned to me and said, “We are mountain people.” And I nodded. Because I knew what he meant. We wanted an adventure for our honeymoon, we wanted to feel alone in the face of nature’s sheer force. We wanted to be awed by majesty and grandeur and overwhelmed by this world that God saw fit to craft for humanity. We wanted to feel wonderfully small against something comfortingly huge. We wanted to spend a week wearing crummy clothes and not doing our hair and falling in love with the other person as they look every day.

Of course, faced with these mountains, who wouldn’t be a mountain person?

Interesting Side Note: Though we went to the mountains, we both packed like we were going to a beach resort. Hence a Day 1 shopping trip for a coat for James, and the fact that I wore the same pair of shoes every day, though I had packed 9.  My cute new sundresses stayed in the suitcase, but my really unattractive climbing pants made an appearance every. single. day.

In case anyone is planning a trip soon, that last set of pictures are ones that we snapped  Moraine Lake, and then from driving along the Icefields Parkway between Banff and Jasper. The last one is a glacier, and we took it for our grandkids to use in science reports someday for school after all the glaciers are gone. Thinking ahead, we were.