Understanding
The Larch Valley Trail is an alpine hiking path in Alberta, revered for the deciduous trees from which it gets its namesake. In late September, the needles of the Larches change and transform the entire valley into a sea of gold, surrounded by snow-capped mountain vistas. It’s a breathtaking sight to behold.
It was whilst hiking the trail alone, that I met a man.
I had stopped to take in the scenery and look for compositions, when I saw a man coming up the path before stopping to take his own photos. He was much older than I was, but appeared to have a warm, youthful energy about him - he was climbing a mountain! I love capturing moments of other people enjoying their time out in nature, whether it’s through working on their craft or just enjoying the simple beauty of it. So I picked up my camera to take a picture. The idea being he would be completely unaware I ever took his photo. However, he turned and saw me. He smiled. So I smiled back and took a photo as he proceeded up the trail towards me.
I’m from a small town, so it is commonplace when you cross paths with strangers and friends alike to greet them. So as he walked, I half-shouted an enthusiastic greeting, which was not met with a verbal reply, only a smile. I simply figured he hadn’t heard me well - after all, he was much older than I was. When he reached the point in the trail that I was taking my break, I reverted to the usual expression I use for new meetings or casual greetings: “Hey mate! How are ya?”. He didn’t respond, he simply nodded with a large grin and began to look around at the surrounding foliage.
I personally love quiet time when I am out in nature. Just the sounds of the natural world around me and my own breathing. I simply wasn’t used to sharing such a small piece of it with a stranger. Perhaps he was simply tired from the hike? In truth, I had already stopped many times from the fatigue of the alpine climb - my camera was just a convenient excuse to mask my exhaustion.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked; half in truthful appreciation, half simply looking to break the silence.
“Ah! Sí.” he responded, grinning once again and gesturing towards the snow-capped mountain before us.
That’s when I realised: he just spoke very little English and I tend to speak very fast. I had let my upbringing in an English speaking country and my presence in Canada, another English speaking nation, paint my perceptions and expectations of other people I was encountering. I was a little amused at my foolishness and no longer felt the need to force conversation. We spent a few minutes together in silence, performing our own form of meditation - taking photos; shooting one another a glance and a thumbs up when we captured a nice image and smiling at the surrounding beauty. Then with a wave he was off on his way up to the peak of Sentinel’s Pass. He beat me to the summit. Perhaps youth isn’t everything.
Back in Australia and looking through my photos, I came across the picture I took of the ‘old’ man. It made me smile. I reflected on the time shared, mostly in silence, appreciating that beautiful part of the world and doing what we loved. And even though we spoke different languages and came from different lands, I knew in that moment we understood each other perfectly.
