Hello old friend – Nice to see you again.

I’m on a do-over trip in the Canadian Rockies, somewhere between Banff National Park and Glacier National Park, retracing a 2011 adventure. The last time I was here, Chad and I brought the whole family, and one of the highlights was heli-hiking. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like: you get into a helicopter, they drop you on top of a mountain, and then you walk around like you’re in a nature documentary. We used a company called Canadian Mountain Holidays (CMH), and their website puts it best: “You’ll be dropped off by helicopter so you can travel to otherwise unreachable ridgelines, glaciers, and alpine meadows.”

I could throw around all sorts of poetic descriptions, but it really boils down to this—it’s just so cool. There’s something about being up in the mountains, with barely another soul around, that makes you feel both very small and very lucky.

And then there’s the lodge. It’s not glamorous, but it has everything you need tucked into one cozy place. You feel cared for, like a well-fed marmot in a luxury burrow. I swear, for every guest, there’s at least one staff member whose sole job seems to be making sure you’re fed, watered, and gently nudged into outdoor greatness.

Back in 2011, they had this genius idea called a family adventure week. You brought your kids, and they brought two school teachers whose summer side hustle was entertaining your children from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Honestly, it was the closest I’ve ever come to believing in magic. I remember these lovely women whipping out wigs for the kids and staging a themed dinner like it was Broadway meets summer camp. That said, there’s something a little weird about loading your kids into a helicopter and waving goodbye like you’re sending them off to Hogwarts with crampons.

One day, the guides looked at the adults and said, “Do you want to try the Via Ferrata?” I thought they said Via Frittata, which sounded like a delightful brunch option.

Turns out, Via Ferrata is Italian for “iron path.” These were originally created in the Dolomites during World War I to help move troops and supplies across insane mountain terrain. Now they’re a thrilling vacation activity for people like me who enjoy pretending to be brave while clinging to a metal cable bolted into a cliff.

So just to be clear:

• Via Ferrata = mountain adventure with cables and ladders
• Frittata = delicious egg-based brunch dish

Once I got the translation sorted out, I said, “Sure, let’s do the Via… Ver-rada… thing.” When they asked if I was afraid of heights, I said, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

It was a total bucket-list moment. Chad and I both started, but he looked around, muttered something like “I have no business being up here,” and called the helicopter. I, on the other hand, kept going—and loved it. I briefly considered becoming a National Geographic correspondent until I remembered I like mattresses and snacks.

The best part? You don’t actually need climbing skills. It’s like mountaineering for dummies, and I’m proud to be that dummy. It’s a little scary, a lot empowering, and all about focusing on what’s right in front of you. Oh—and having good knees helps.

I walked away feeling like I’d done something hard. I answered the question: I’m not afraid of heights… but I don’t have to like them either.

I’ve been wanting to come back and do this trip again for years, but there’s one small hurdle: Chad hates hiking. He calls it “walking without a purpose.” So finding someone to shell out the money and come with me hasn’t exactly been easy.

Enter: Cam. My youngest, and still young enough to happily let me spend money on him. He was totally game to recreate the trip. And as the kids slowly drift into full adulthood, this felt like the perfect chance to make a new memory together.

Two days ago, Cam and I flew to Calgary. We arrived in the late afternoon, grabbed a shuttle into the city, and lucked into an amazing dinner at a spot called Ten Foot Henry. Shared plates, bold flavors, a great patio view—we were in food heaven. A lovely couple sat next to us and struck up a conversation. I think the woman pegged me as a tourist from the second I opened my mouth. Fair.

Turns out, the Calgary Stampede—this massive rodeo-meets-festival event—was starting soon. It’s officially going on my bucket list, even though we missed it this time.

That night, we stayed at a hotel near the airport because CMH was picking us up at 5 a.m. to take us past Banff and Lake Louise to the helicopter pad. From there, we flew into the CMH Bobbie Burns Lodge.

And as soon as I walked in, it felt like I was greeting an old friend—one you haven’t seen in over a decade but can still finish your sentences.