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I watched a video when I was much younger, it was part of a campaign for Alberta tourism. A 10-minute visual jaw-dropper that was like nothing this sea-level-residing Australian girl had ever seen. Mountains covered in snow, panoramic scenes of trails through pine forests, and a lake so pristine and blue it was hard to comprehend. In the years that followed I visited the US many times but my travels never took me as far north as Canada. So it remained a fairytale fixation. Then, after the sleepless baby years, the confined pandemic months, and, more recently, the long hours in the treatment chair, I decided I needed to find myself again. And I knew exactly how. I needed to find myself in the place I had been dreaming about since I was a teenager.
My husband and I were wrecked waiting to hear if the treatment had worked. It doesn’t always, so we had to be prepared for that. Those minutes draw on in the waiting room, watching for any indication on the doctors’ faces as they pass through the corridors. Preparing for the worst while desperately hoping for the best. In those moments you try to be pragmatic by focusing on the existential because it’s the only way to cope, yet you also have indescribable faith in your doctors, those who have spent their careers finding a cure for the disease you were yet to acquire.
It’s incredibly humbling in the surgery room. No one here cares what brand your jeans are, whether your sneakers are the cool kind or if you tried that new restaurant yet. Hospitals have sovereignty over most of what the non-sick world finds important. Here, you are at the mercy of what is written on the piece of paper on their desk – in fact your entire future depends on it. I think I will always remember that moment. When the doctor closed the door behind him and turned to look at me, his face lighting up with a smile. This was a good day for him, too, I supposed. A few minutes into the meeting, after discussing the good results, I changed the subject. I asked if I could book a trip. For a few weeks, overseas. They shrugged. They said they couldn’t see why not. So, that night, in the glow of my phone while my family slept, I began planning the holiday. My pilgrimage to see Lake Louise.
It should probably have been a sign that this was to be a particularly special experience when, as we drove into Banff National Park, the sun beamed behind a veil of softly falling snow and a rainbow appeared in watercolour above the mountains in the distance. This was the middle of October, and while the ground was yet to be bleached white, the forest was already decorated with a light layer and the pines looked undeniably festive. We were en route to stay at The Fairmont Château Lake Louise, a spectacular hotel with a location directly in front of the UNESCO world heritage site. Upon arrival, its architectural form is imposingly impressive yet exceptionally inviting, its warmth coming from the interior’s wide, balustrade staircases, arched entries and curved mezzanines, but even more so from its welcoming hosts. There is no pretence here, despite it being one of the world’s most idyllic hotels. Families and small children are welcomed, and the staff, many expats themselves, seem to be as genuinely dazzled by the natural locale as the guests are.
My first view of her was through a giant arched window. Her colours, an ombré of turquoise, deep green and pastel blue decorated with a stream of shimmering white over the middle – a reflection of the cumulonimbus above. The mountains, Fairview on one side and Mount St. Piran on the other, are host to acres of forest, staggering sheer cliffs and snowy passages, and act like sturdy hands holding the glacial catchment in the centre. I immediately reached for my phone to take a photo. Of course I did. I wondered how many times this picturesque wonder has been snapped. I was told today was the last of the season for renting one of the lake’s famous red canoes. So, before checking in, we shuffled across the icy path that borders the lake and climbed into our very own Wes Anderson film. Our little red boat, wading through an iridescent aqua lake, flanked in symmetry by the mountains beside us and my Steve Zissou red beanie an unintentional addition. Though cold to the point of freezing fingers, this moment on the water is the perspective you come for. To be part of the lake rather than just the spectator. To feel its cold between your fingers, to see its unfathomable clarity and to hear its gentle rippling in the otherwise silent encounter.
I was lucky enough to be a guest of the hotel, something that made me feel like a Lululemon-wearing princess. This was an experience so all-encompassing and exquisite that I had to often tell myself that in a few days my horses would turn back into mice – though I shunned the reminder. I decided I could get used to having massages at their world-class spa, I could become well-versed in the menu at flagship restaurant Walliser Stube (where the rainbow trout is as mouth-watering as the chocolate fondue) and become a regular at Fairview restaurant, enjoying an Alberta Angus beef sirloin before retiring to my two-bedroom, three-bathroom suite with uninterrupted views of Lake Louise.
Being fall, sunrise this time of year is close to 9am. So watching the new light drift over the mountains is easy for those not wanting to wake early. However, one morning, I made the most of the lingering dark with a pre-dawn meditation walk. The instruction was to move slowly, recognise your breath and let the quiet of the morning still your busy mind. I wasn’t sure if I would like this or if I wanted my thoughts to go beyond the superficial. However, in the cold of that morning, under the icy branches and beside the silhouette of gargantuan mountains, I was overwhelmed with a sense of presence and an indescribable gratitude, for so many reasons.
On our last morning at the Château, before we transferred to our next destination in Banff, we were treated to the hotel’s signature afternoon tea at Fairview restaurant. A pastime of the hotel since the 1920s, it is a high tea of savoury hors d’oeuvres and decadent desserts such as salted café-latte-chocolate tarts and the best scones I have ever tasted (all made by the on-site pastry chef). Every table here overlooks the lake and today, as the sun shone on last night’s thick snow accumulation, I noted the mountains looked much whiter than the day before. Then, in the valley of Mount Whyte, at the far point of the lake, a growing cloud appeared to roll very slowly downwards. On closer inspection it was, in fact, an avalanche – a distant spectacle of both magnitude and grace. To watch such an auspicious event while sipping on jasmine tea was something I’ll never forget. And with that, it was time to move on.
In 1888, American railroad magnate and general manager of the Canadian Pacific Railway, William Cornelius Van Horne opened his long-term project – a hotel at the base of Sulphur Mountain he named The Banff Springs. Recognising the potential for visitors in the area, thanks to its landscape and thermal springs, the hotel was to host wealthy guests who travelled abroad via his railway. And with such success, six years later he also built The Château Lake Louise. Today, known as the Fairmont Banff Springs, or, ‘the castle in the Rockies’, this hotel is the kind you imagine with horse and cart outside, not necessarily the bright purple Lamborghini we pulled up next to. However, as we approached I found myself muttering sophisticated things like Hogwarts! Fairytale! Magic castle! and inside I was much the same. Like a child at Disneyland, I palpated the vision by pressing my hands into the grandiose stone and marble foundations. Both the exterior and interior of Banff Springs are an example of classic Canadian architecture. The facade is what came to be known as ‘Railway Gothic’ – a mix of French federation and European cathedral style – while inside, the maze-like corridors and medieval-style staircases are so beautifully original it made me believe that even in an ‘I heart Banff’ T-shirt I was akin to the well-heeled guests of the 19th Century.
Here, we were again treated to a palatial suite, this time with a vantage over Sulphur and Cascade mountains. And, as we settled in, we watched as an elk nuzzled at grass on the snow-covered verandah below, his hoof prints casting a pattern of black in the blanket of powdery white.
Fairmont Banff Springs calls the Bow Valley home, and these days hikers take to its various trails through the sub-alpine forests to see the local falls. Private tours offer anecdotes and facts for the wonders that surround, and our guide, Lucy, stopped to tell us all the things we international visitors want to hear. Like where bears might be found (we did not find any), the history of the hotel and even the unexpected laxative effect of the area’s delicious glacial tap water. Lucy was wonderful, and we found ourselves revisiting her knowledge as we sat at lunch in a private glass dome. Yes, a dome. A dining experience that started during Covid, it has remained an epicurean destination for guests. A brunch dégustation in a glass, igloo-type room, it begins with a most sensational eggs Benedict and ends with a chocolate ganache so delicious and substantial I packaged it up and ate the rest of it in the car, while crying, as we left the next day.
On our final evening, as the snow fell outside, we dined at 1888 Chop House. An elegant, dimly lit alpine establishment, it sits on the site of the hotel’s original dining room. Cosy, amid its dark timber and candlelight, we were offered Champagne from a vintage Champagne cart which is wheeled to each table with celebratory ambience. Then we toasted to being there, and to getting there. Two things not mutually exclusive. And, after finishing our meals (mine, the Wagyu striploin, his, the Atlantic lobster) we decided them to be some of the best of our lives. I found myself with the same gratitude here that I’d felt walking in that dark forest. The same that I’d felt on the blue lake and beside the giant pines. It was a moment for relishing in something extraordinary. And as we drove out of Banff National Park the next day, I realised I have really only scratched the surface of this place. There are many more mountains to climb and rivers to cross. And I mean this most literally.
With thanks to Fairmont Château Lake Louise and Fairmont Banff Springs.
Visit chateau-lake-louise.com and banff-springs-hotel.com
