2020: July-September.

As I write this, summer is a distant memory. The sun bids us adieu before 6pm; the mountain peaks are snow-covered once again; and the temperature gauge flirts above and below 0ºC. We’ve already had a -25ºC spell, abruptly re-introducing us to winter after we were gifted with the warmest, most beautiful autumn and a satisfying, longer-than-usual summer.

But let me hit pause on all that—I’m skipping ahead, for this post is a recap on the summer that was. In this year of the coronavirus, it has been more important than ever to find as many reasons as possible to get outside. This summer, we did all of the usual and more—beyond our regular weekend hikes, we went kayaking and swimming on the warmest summer days, when the glacial water would be less of a shock to the system; we went on our roadtrip to visit Justin’s family in Ontario; and we hiked to Assiniboine, a dream of mine since having moved to the Rockies.

I am more grateful than ever to live where I do. My days working from home are bookended by dog walks amongst evergreens, with mountains all around us; I am safe, have access to clean running water, and my pantry & fridge are always well-stocked; healthcare is free and I am healthy; both of us have stable jobs and as a result, we have been able to maintain our lifestyles; I can afford to go to counselling, attend meditation classes, keep my fitness memberships and do everything I need to maintain my mental and physical health & wellbeing. All of this is an extraordinary privilege, especially when millions of others did not even have their basic needs met before the coronavirus, let alone now.

I count myself extremely lucky. I would also be lying if I were to say the coronavirus has not affected me—while I have not had to experience any major upheavals, I don’t believe any of us have entirely escaped the collective pain, anxiety and stress that this year has brought us. The pandemic exposed whatever cracks existed in our systems, beliefs, relationships, lives and ourselves, and brought it all to the surface.

I post many beautiful images from our times in the mountains, but there are all the rough moments when the camera isn’t brought out. There are the days where I feel so unlike myself; where I have zero energy to take care of myself, or to make a nutritious meal, or to join my partner on our usual dog walk. There are the weeks where it seems like J and I are speaking a totally different language, barely in sync and unable to agree on the most basic of things. There are the moments when I feel lonely, when I miss my family deeply, yet feel so defeated I don’t even have the energy to reach out to friends. The consolation lies in knowing that I am not alone in these struggles; that you, on the other side of this screen, have felt this way too.

There is a lot that I have had to reckon with this year, including parts of myself I had been avoiding looking at. It took a near-breaking moment for me to look—truly look—at what was causing me and my partner pain; at what was getting in the way of living a more peaceful life, and to admit that I was the one that was getting in my own way. I am responsible for my perception of reality; for whether I choose to be happy; for letting go of what does not really matter; for detaching myself from the fear, anxiety and trauma that I have allowed to grip me. Like I said—this year has had a way of bringing to the surface all that needs to be looked at; exposing every crack and showing us what it is that clearly isn’t working for us. If we are brave enough to look, we will be brave enough to make better choices. It can start at any moment—even the next one.

Images below from one of the best summers we have ever had—warm, long, with a dog we didn’t know we were going to have this same time last year, but now life is unimaginable without her. We celebrated her first birthday on September 25th, raking up all the autumn leaves in a park near our place for the three of us to play in. This summer, after months of on and off limping, Freya was diagnosed with panosteitis. Also documented in these images: stuck in the first snowstorm of the season on Saturday, August 29th (still summer, technically) on a mountain peak with friends Daniel & Kristina, and smoky skies from the wildfires in California, taken during a high-elevation, moderately exposed scramble in Kananaskis Country.