Traveling through the Rockies, the scenery between Vancouver and Calgary is mind numbing. Rows upon gratuitous rows of overly splendid mountains reaching away into the distance, seemingly without end, every peak a new exploration into awe, every turn of the road a new, embarrassingly fantastic view. Eventually, especially in Roger’s pass, the brain begins to shut down, presumably in self defense. The beauty and scale of everything is just too big, too ancient, complete, and remote.
I sepia tinted one of my pictures in an effort to show how timeless it’s possible for these places to be, too. Even with the railroad in the shot, (especially, almost), there’s no way to pin down down the year. Every BC museum has pictures practically the same, essentially interchangeable. No matter when the picture’s taken, the mountains and trees remain identical, as if around the corner you might find a lost batch of men in long pants, dirty white button up shirts, suspenders and vests, their only set of clothes, hacking at the stone with pick-axes for four dollars a day, dreaming of settling down in a frontier future so long in the past we can’t imagine it in colour.
I’m only sorry it was impossible to get a proper sense of the overwhelming scale, taking pictures from the bus. Truly, you have to stop at a look-out, the highway is littered with them, and merely stare.