I just got back from a family trip to the mountains, and I realized something almost immediately:
Pictures are useless.
Okay, not completely useless. I still took about 400 of them. But every single time I’d snap a photo through the windshield, look at it, and immediately think, “Well… that captured absolutely none of what we’re actually seeing.”
Because the mountains are one of those things you can’t really explain until you’re there.
I haven’t been to the mountains since high school, which honestly feels impossible because in my brain that was only about seven years ago. (Please don’t fact check that.)
But driving toward them again after all this time was kind of incredible. At first they’re just tiny shapes way off in the distance. Then slowly, mile by mile, they get bigger and bigger until suddenly they completely take over your view.
And no photo captures that feeling.
But honestly, the best part of the trip wasn’t even the mountains themselves. It was watching my kids experience them for the first time.
Especially my five-year-old, born and raised in Saskatchewan. Around here, we know hills. We respect hills. We will absolutely call something a mountain that is, in reality, a slightly aggressive ditch.
So hearing him realize in real time the difference between a hill and an actual mountain was so sweet.
At one point he just stared out the window quietly and said, “Whoa…”
And honestly? Same.
There’s just something about the mountains that makes you feel tiny in the best possible way. The size of them, the quiet, the fresh air, the winding roads… all of it feels different from home, but comforting at the same time.
The pictures may not have worked. But the memories absolutely did. And regardless if the pictures worked or not, you might be seeing a few more over the next couple of days.
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