When we left Banff National Park driving east into central Alberta, the sun was shining, the sky got bluer as the mountains receded, and my wife and I, while sad to leave the Rockies behind, were looking forward to a few days of serious down time at a cabin about twenty kilometres south of Rocky Mountain House. For all intents and purposes, we were going to the middle of nowhere to simply relax.

On a fortunate tip from a co-worker of my wife, we rented a gorgeous cabin at the Prairie Creek Inn that was the perfect mix of seclusion and luxurious comfort. For three nights this was our corner of the universe and both of us couldn’t have been happier with where we were.

I am by my nature a very restless person, but by this point in 2020, the year had beaten me down to a point where I was just happy to be somewhere other than my own house. The remaining restlessness existing within me was satisfied by wandering around the beautiful grounds and getting lost in my own mind in the mornings.

Our cabin was up on a small hill a couple of hundred metres from the water. A creek in name, the water through here ran fast. I enjoyed standing near the shoreline, behind a canopy of trees, listening to the sound of the water rushing past.

We had stunning late summer weather during our stay here – temperatures in the upper teens celsius and perfect prairie blue skies overhead.

At some fairly respectable time in the morning (which I won’t disclose, but it’s noon somewhere, right?), I’d make my way to one of the Adirondack chairs in front of our cabin with a glass of wine or a beer along with a book in hand. A bit of reading, some sipping, and some staring off into the trees and sky to the sound of birds singing was how I passed the time on these days.

Each morning I’d eagerly await the arrival of my little central Alberta buddy who’d come to check me out and I would watch him on his daily search for human food. You could tell he has had a lot of friends over his life who have stayed in this cabin.

He was probably in search of some scraps of the delicious breakfasts that were dropped at our door each morning. Omelettes, pancakes, thick cut bacon, homemade muffins, fruit… each morning was a delicious surprise and we eagerly awaited the discrete knock at our door that signalled our breakfast had arrived.

In the evenings our main activity was building a fire and then with my wife’s expert coaching from so many childhood summer evenings at her family’s camp in rural New Brunswick, we both attempted to make the ultimate s’more. We had a great number of delicious failures (in honesty, those were mostly my attempts) and a few brushes with the alchemy of perfectly toasted marshmallow and that just right amount of induced melt of the chocolate.

Our time here was a great reminder of the simplicity of vacation. While I long to get back on planes to explore far away places, our time here gave me exactly what I needed – down time and a change of scenery to enjoy with my favourite person in the world.