“The Beginning”: 8x12 acrylic paint on gallery wrapped (1.5 inch deep) canvas.
He’s one of the biggest reasons why I love the mountains so dearly and why they will always be meaningful. In 1946, at 14 years old, my Grandpa went on a family road trip vacation from the Canadian prairies to California, with my Great Grandpa getting him an underage driver’s license so that he could just sit back and enjoy the scenery! (Genius! I can’t wait to be able to make my kids drive me through the mountains!)
My grandparents started taking my dad and his brothers to the mountains in 1960, which is how my dad first fell in love with these spots that I now hold dear.
My Dad started taking my brother and I to the mountains to camp in 1988, and then kept bringing us back, with my first hiking summit (the Big Bee Hive in Lake Louise!) in 1990. I imagine that choosing to dive into mountain adventures with us was an incredibly bold and weighted decision, given that we both had been diagnosed with a terrifying, incurable pulmonary disease that, at that time (before the CF gene even been discovered), usually meant incredibly short lives filled with profound illness that gradually led to lung failure by our early 20s. True to that narrative, I’d already had many hospital stays for pneumonias when I started hiking… I can’t help but feel incredibly grateful toward my parents that chose to boldly encourage us to do whatever we could and explore the world the way we wanted, despite the shitty odds we’d been given. In a beautiful way, I am certain that the reason why my health has done as well as it has is purely because of my motivation to stay as healthy and fit as possible so that I can continue to be able to explore these stunning places.
Hike more. Breathe stronger. Hike more. Breathe stronger…
So, thank you Grandpa, for this beautiful gift. I have no doubts that my life would have turned out very differently without inheriting your love for these beautiful places.
“The Beginning”: 8x12 acrylic paint on gallery wrapped (1.5 inch deep) canvas.
He’s one of the biggest reasons why I love the mountains so dearly and why they will always be meaningful. In 1946, at 14 years old, my Grandpa went on a family road trip vacation from the Canadian prairies to California, with my Great Grandpa getting him an underage driver’s license so that he could just sit back and enjoy the scenery! (Genius! I can’t wait to be able to make my kids drive me through the mountains!)
My grandparents started taking my dad and his brothers to the mountains in 1960, which is how my dad first fell in love with these spots that I now hold dear.
My Dad started taking my brother and I to the mountains to camp in 1988, and then kept bringing us back, with my first hiking summit (the Big Bee Hive in Lake Louise!) in 1990. I imagine that choosing to dive into mountain adventures with us was an incredibly bold and weighted decision, given that we both had been diagnosed with a terrifying, incurable pulmonary disease that, at that time (before the CF gene even been discovered), usually meant incredibly short lives filled with profound illness that gradually led to lung failure by our early 20s. True to that narrative, I’d already had many hospital stays for pneumonias when I started hiking… I can’t help but feel incredibly grateful toward my parents that chose to boldly encourage us to do whatever we could and explore the world the way we wanted, despite the shitty odds we’d been given. In a beautiful way, I am certain that the reason why my health has done as well as it has is purely because of my motivation to stay as healthy and fit as possible so that I can continue to be able to explore these stunning places.
Hike more. Breathe stronger. Hike more. Breathe stronger…
So, thank you Grandpa, for this beautiful gift. I have no doubts that my life would have turned out very differently without inheriting your love for these beautiful places.
