A Trip to Banff

One summer, George and I got Mrs. Jeal to stay with the children and we went to Calgary to the Stampede. I do not remember the Stampede at all; the only thing that I remember about Calgary is the buildings which were made or built of sandstone, and I remember a little child lying asleep on the sidewalk, her face covered with jam and flies by the hundreds around her.

We went on out to Banff and got there about three o’clock in the afternoon. The station was quite rustic, built of logs. I remember we walked to the little town, some distance from the station, and carried our grips. When we got to the hotel, George ordered me to wait on the porch until he got Aunt Lizzie, Johnny, Vinnie and Miss Wallace located. I was boob enough to do so. I had been waiting there some little time when Bob or George Kinnon came along and asked me what I was standing there for. I think it was George Kinnon, Jean Mutch’s uncle. He and his wife had come out on the same train that we did. I replied to his question that "George had told me to." Why was I such a boob! Well, Mr. Kinnon said, "You come on in with me," which I did. We went upstairs to where the rest of our party was being located and I got the dickens from George for coming up. Well, he had Lizzie and her gang settled, then found out Lizzie, Miss Wallace, John and Vinnie were located in the room that we were registered in, and we were settled in the room to which Lizzie and her gang were registered. The room he had settled Lizzie and her gang in was a lovely big bright room, and the room where he had planted himself and his loving wife was small, dark and dreary, and at the back of the hall. George said it was my fault for the mix-up, though how I couldn’t see, because he had them settled in their room before I came upstairs.

Well, anyway, George was so mad at me that he made me go and inform Lizzie and Miss Wallace they were in our room and we in theirs, and would they please change. They didn’t like it very well when they saw how shabby their exchanged room was. I don’t blame them. They picked up their belongings and moved to the other room. I was a simpleton to inform them of the mistake, and should have told George to tell them himself. He was nowhere in evidence while Lizzie and her gang was making the transfer. Then, later on in the evening, we went touring the town. Somehow, we got separated from Lizzie and her party. They wanted to buy souvenirs; George wanted to go exploring the town, so we drifted from each other. We ran across the Kinnons. Mr. Kinnon was always talking of looking for "putrefied" souvenirs. I shouldn’t chronicle that expression, but that was how he designated his search. When we arrived back at the hotel, I went in to say goodnight to Lizzie. She was mad at me because we hadn’t waited for them but had gone on by ourselves. She was comfortably seated on the "thunder-mug" with which every room was supplied, and all she said was, "Well! What happened to you folks?"

One morning while we were in Banff, the gang decided to go on a drive. I wanted to have a blouse washed or laundered and told George before I could go on the drive, I would have to locate a laundry. He said, ‘Well, you’ll have to find one yourself," so off I started. There were no paved streets or sidewalks in the place that I can remember. Someone told me there was a woman "off down that way" who did washing. So I followed the direction they designated with their thumb and found myself following a wagon trail through the woods. A young Englishman came by with his horse and milk cart, so I asked him about the laundry. He said, "Yes, it’s down a bit further on; I am going there now to deliver milk. If you’ll ‘op in the cart, I’ll take you there and bring you back." So I ‘opped’ in the cart and left my blouse to be laundered — the woman said she would send it to the hotel by three o’clock if it didn’t rain — and I ‘opped’ back in the milk cart with my gallant English milkman and he took me back to the hotel where the gang was waiting for me, all ready to go on their drive. Imagine the cold reception I got! Driving up in a cart with a milkman, a perfect stranger! I didn’t much care. I had a nice drive with a perfect gentleman through lovely woods; and thanks to him would have a nice clean crispy blouse that afternoon.

I do not remember how long we stayed in Banff, but it was beautiful. We visited the old extinct volcano. An old man, a Scotsman dressed in a Scotch suit, kilt, sporran, cap, stockings and all, and with a lantern (lighted) in his hand led the party of us into the old volcano to see a beautiful sight. It was quite dark when we first entered. Then, as we got farther in, through the opening at the mouth of this extinct volcano poured a beautiful ray of sunlight into the blue waters in the pool. This ray of sunlight was all rainbow colors. There was a boardwalk part way around the pool; we did not go all the way on the walk.

We also visited the swimming pools, and some of our group drank copiously of the sulfur waters.

Then, one day we boarded the train for home, back to the farm and to the usual grind; but feeling we had benefited by our trip and the things we saw.

While in Banff, George and I, with Vinnie along, called on an old girl friend, Teena Petrie. She had married, but I forget her married name. She was a daughter of the Petries who kept the Tregarva Post Office. Lizzie was mad at us for going to Teena’s.

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