A trundle from Moraine Lake to Lake O'hara



Clive chomping up to Obabin Pass

 



Heading up to Obabin Pass on nice firm snow - it was icy on the
other side and we had to use our crampons
oh no I nearly wrote tampons!



Jeanette and looking back to were we had come from
over the passon the left  well you can't quite see it but you get
the general idea -right!

Evidence of Climate change - this used to be a warm
shallow sea  and now its a place where
there is 9 months of winter and 3 months of poor sledging!



Our intrepid group plunge down into the next valley



baby marmot ahh!

Eiffel Lake in the early morning with Wenchemna Pass on the right.

Indian Paintbrush

Here are the files that I want to share with you.

I sent these using Elements Organizer. Find out more: http://www.adobe.com/go/pse_photoshopelwin_en

Light on Mary's Lake ok this should be the last photo!!
Well computers are a mystery - it started out at the top and now here it is
so apolgise from the creative order of things.

Nothing like returning home to find out how far I have come ……or not!

Life is like a kaleidoscope. Holidays, new places, new experiences, revisiting home, enduring relationships are like a turn that produces a fresh vibrant pattern and demands self reflection. Big stuff happens in the crucible of family - illness, job loss, retirement, growth, grief, laughter, joy all between the bookends of birth and death. These and the voices from my ancestors that echo through my bloodline and mitochondria challenge me to see the broader picture, to expand my vision.

My choice to move away from judgement and criticism, teaches me to be conscious of my intentions for loving connection. I remember we are all works in progress when I look behind hurtful words to see the light, the sacredness, the divinity hidden by a tricky personality and tough life circumstances.

My long deceased mother thought; I the black sheep was godless. Now I know that by going home if I remember to step into my godliness and see that in other, the visit runs much more smoothly. Still old patterns attach like super glue and in my humanity if I slip from this ideal, I know to have been present, to let go, to forgive is to have done my best.