Banff has a spectacular setting in the Canadian Rockies. I’m staying at the Banff Centre above the town, a arts/convention operation with lots of rooms. I wandered downtown for dinner, and was pleased to see a cervid walking across the street right in front of me. I’m a city boy, and not used to wild artiodactyls on the public thoroughfares. I followed the deer into someone’s backyard and got within about four feet of it:
And then I passed a bear-proof garbage can. I’m not in Chicago any more.
The downtown, which is small, is surrounded by towering, snow-clad mountains. It’s a tourist town, replete with souvenir stores, candy emporia, and expensive restaurants, but you can’t beat the setting. (Apologies for the annoying camera smudge, which we’ll have to live with until I get it cleaned.)
I hadn’t eaten all day—save a bagel at 7 a.m.—so I tucked into a comfort meal of fish and chips (quite good) and a pint of IPA (decent, but no match for my favorite pint, Timothy Taylor Landlord) at the Banff Avenue Brewing Company. My serious gustatory explorations will begin anon.