Believe it or not, the first time I truly stood before Peyto Lake was at 39 — my husband by my side, our twin boys 11. We’d driven past countless times, always meaning to stop, always rushing toward something else.

We had set our sights on hiking Dolomite Pass, ready to show our boys a favourite trail. Just as we were about to begin, we got some disappointing news that shifted the tone of the day — our son hadn’t made the hockey team he’d been dreaming of. Our plans shifted in an instant. Instead of pushing forward, we found ourselves standing still — giving space, breathing, finding calm.

Peyto Lake was the perfect place to land. From its lookout, we took in sweeping views of valleys carved by ancient glaciers — once vast and commanding, now quietly retreating into memory. It was impossible not to feel both awe and ache, standing in the presence of such enduring beauty.