From the Mediterranean to North America

Born and raised on a tiny island in the middle of the Med, as a child my world always seemed so small and safe. You can walk the entire coast of Malta in about a day, which means it’s tiny, but there’s still around half a million people that live there – for a country of its size, that’s a lot of people! So when I say Malta feels small, I don’t only mean that geographically.

Coming from an island surrounded by glorious, clear blue sea, I love being near and in the water, and the Maltese coast truly does not disappoint! Back home, I would spend my lunch breaks off work walking along a rocky beach, and weekends hiking rugged cliffs, listening to the waves crash underneath. Or roasting under the scorching sun on a beautiful (although generally overcrowded), sandy beach. I spent my childhood summers building sandcastles – if you can call a crumbling bucket-shaped structure a sandcastle. Happy memories of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, parents and siblings spending whole days out at sea on a boat, diving for sea urchins, jumping off high points inside dark, mysterious-looking caves, and eating ice-cream and sandwiches on the deck. Winter always meant Sunday family picnics, and long strolls along windy cliffsides. These often led to stunning historical discoveries for us kids, like Phoenician rock-cut tombs, Prehistoric temples, and ancient Roman ruins.

With Chappie on the cliffs of Migra L-Ferha, Malta

“So why exactly did you leave such an idyllic-sounding place, Fran?”, I hear you ask. A totally valid question, because so many people seem to want to live on the island I left behind. And the simple-yet-not-so-simple answer is, “for many reasons”.

At some point, Malta became a little too small. I had longed to live elsewhere since I was 15, to go on an adventure somewhere different, some place where nobody knew me (or my parents, or my aunt, or my second cousin twice removed whom even I didn’t know that well). I started travelling at 21, and every time I left, I missed being home, but I also didn’t want to go back, and the older I got, the stronger that feeling became.

One day, the opportunity to make my dream a reality presented itself. So I bought a one way ticket to Canada, packed up my life – which now consisted of my husband, our dog, and 2 suitcases – and we flew all the way to Alberta. Which is how this introverted Mediterranean girl found herself adventuring in the land of mountains, snow, moose, and poutine!

Glenmore Reservoir in Calgary, AB Canada

So, what’s next? I’ve always been a curious traveller, and I like to explore and go on adventures to discover and learn about the places I find myself in – from the history and culture, to food and great hikes! For me, it’s a way to learn more about the world I live in, the people around me, and about myself – to grow and challenge myself, which for someone with severe anxiety, doesn’t always come easy.

This blog is my way of keeping track of my journey and my growth, to experience new places with others, and to help fellow travellers prepare for their adventures as I share tips, advice, and new places to visit, for when the world finally opens up again. It will also be a place where I share my experience living with anxiety and depression as an expat and traveller, and how it affects the way I travel and view the world, in the hope that it might be of some comfort or help to someone else out there.

Feature Image: Ferenc Horvath on Unsplash

Thoughts in Sub-Zero Temperatures

Trigger Warning: Mental Health, Depression, Anxiety

It’s been a harsh winter – certainly the harshest I’ve ever experienced. Mediterranean Island winters are a different kind of harsh, but I’m used to that. Back home, cold weather means anything under 10°C, but the humidity is normally above 90%, so you’re freezing whether you’re inside or outdoors.

The porous limestone that our homes are built with feels wet and cold to the touch, while the darker corners of a room start growing smelly dark green or black mould – mould that can also be found inside wardrobes, closets, and drawers in poorly-ventilated rooms. During a Maltese winter, you can put on layers upon layers of clothes, but the humidity will seep through, and you’ll be left shivering as your body tries to warm up, anyway.

Luckily, in Malta the sun shines about 300 days a year, and when you find yourself that serotonin-inducing patch of sunshine on those short but brutal winter days, you can still feel the warm rays washing over you like a gentle balm.

Photo by Simon Berger on Pexels

Alberta’s winters are a new experience that came as a bit of a shock. Once the temperature started dropping below 10°C, I prepared myself for the cold, but it didn’t come. Being a dry province means that the temperature here is not the same as it is back home. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself walking around in just a comfy hoodie and jeans.

Then the temperature started rapidly dropping further: 8°, 4°, 0°, -2°…

One day, on one of our daily walks, I realized my face and ears were beginning to hurt, so I started wearing my mask while walking outside and made sure I always had a beanie on. Then my hands started to hurt until I could no longer feel my fingers, after which I always kept thick gloves in my jacket pockets. Eventually, the temperature reached an insane -30°C, and even when I left the house wearing 3 layers, a scarf, beanie, gloves, and thermal pants underneath my jeans or thick joggers, I’d come home barely feeling my legs. My thighs would be frozen and looked badly sunburnt, while the skin began to itch fiercely as my legs very slowly thawed out. I found myself eternally grateful at the fact that every building is heated, here.

Even our pup, equipped with boots, a woolly shirt, and a thick thermal jacket, would just stand there shivering miserably.

The long walks stopped after that.

And that’s when I realized just how important those daily walks had become for my sanity and general mental health.

Photo by Hide Obara on Unsplash

When I envisioned myself in Canada, I imagined daily, year-round hikes and walks, playing and being silly in the snow and enjoying the different seasons (much like those Hollywood movie scenes where people are having snowball fights while upbeat music is playing, and everyone is laughing uncontrollably – which I now realize is a very romanticized idea of what Canadian winters are like).

I’ve watched YouTube videos of people hiking and even camping in freezing conditions, and I never thought that the cold would be a problem. As it turns out, I cannot handle the cold. A part of me chalks it up to being generally unprepared and not having the right clothing and gear for adventuring in minus degree weather, but I also just really dislike the intense cold, and having to wear bulky clothes on top of hundreds of layers.

Our walks became shorter and shorter, until we were only going around a couple of blocks for 15 minutes every day. At first, I thought Chappie would protest and try making the walks longer, but as it turns out, he couldn’t stand the chilly weather either and he would pull us back towards home as soon as he was done with his business.

And that’s when I noticed my mind start to retreat into the darkness a little more often. I would wake up and go to bed feeling empty, sad, and generally experiencing a lot of negative thoughts towards life and myself. Some days, just getting out of bed and taking a shower seemed impossible. It took me a while to make the connection that I was feeling a lot lighter and happier when we were going on regular long walks. I still had bouts of depression, but it seemed easier to pull myself out of them when I could go out and enjoy some fresh air.

So, when I say it’s been a harsh winter, I mean it in every possible sense.

Eventually, I started forcing myself to go on a few long walks here and there, even when I couldn’t feel my legs from the cold anymore, simply because despite the physical pain and discomfort, my mind would still feel a lot more clear, lighter, and generally happier.

Photo by Joe Leahy on Unsplash

And that’s why I’m determined for things to be different next winter.

I realized that I have two options: I can either feel sorry for myself and allow myself to spiral every winter simply because it’s freezing outside, or I can do what other people do, and brave the cold (this time, armed with more knowledge and better clothing – I hope!) I’ve been doing research into the best clothing, gear, and brands for winter hiking, both for myself and Eric, and also for our pup, so that we can start enjoying those unforgiving, but gorgeous Canadian winter days, too!

And hopefully, winter won’t feel quite so harsh anymore.

Stay tuned to find out how that goes!

If you or anyone you know are struggling with feelings of anxiety or depression, please speak to someone you trust, and call your local mental health crisis helpline

Feature Image: Dominik Dombrowski on Unsplash

Hiking in Hakone

These photos were taken during our trip to Hakone, in the Kanagawa Prefecture in Japan. We had gone on a lovely long hike through a forested area, and discovered this beautiful waterfall called “Chisuji Falls”.

The falls were stunning and so peaceful, with the only sounds being the gentle rush of the water as it made its way down, and what seemed like hundreds of cicadas all around us. We could also hear a few birds calling out, and the leaves moving whenever a small breeze would pick up.

To watch a short video I made with some snippets of our hike, click here.

Enjoying the peaceful sounds of the falls

One Day in the Eternal City | Sunday Circle Magazine

New Year’s Day by a Frozen River

I’m one of those dazed creatures that finds delight in the smallest, simplest things, even if I’ve seen them a thousand times. A beautiful sunset or sunrise, waves lapping gently on the shore or raging against jagged rocks, a bright green, fuzzy centipede, delicate butterflies, colourful flowers… basically a nightmare to go hiking with if you’re one of those people who has a hiking goal and aims at beating a personal best while getting there (as much as I admire and am in awe of such people, I have the attention span of a puppy and absolutely everything keeps me enthralled).

So, you can imagine what I’m like in unfamiliar surroundings, experiencing things I’ve never seen before. The first time my boots hit fresh snow on our first night in Calgary, I fell in love with the satisfying crunching sound it made. It was already almost spring, and there wasn’t too much snow left on the ground, so I made sure to carefully step on any fluffy white patch I could find and trod as slowly as I could to enjoy as much of that delightful sound as possible. It’s almost the end of my first full snowy winter, and I still do that! In fact, my first Canadian winter provided me with so many firsts, I can only imagine how odd I seem to those used to such frosty conditions – tapping at tree branches so the freezing white powder would tumble off, gingerly poking at patches of black ice with my boot, and sticking my ungloved hand in small mounds of snow (admittedly not my brightest moment, because that hurt) just to see what fresh snow feels like.

This is why my first hike by a frozen river was a proper treat! I say “my” instead of “our” because Eric is from Toronto, and he’s used to all of this. Thankfully, he finds my curious, silly side somewhat endearing.

The holiday season felt a little sad and lonely, this year, since we were both so far away from family and friends. Usually, these days are filled with visits to parents’ homes, big family lunches with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins under one chaotic roof, and a few drinks with friends. This year was more than a little different, and although we thoroughly enjoy being with each other and our pup, it was hard not to miss the usual traditions. And so, on New Year’s Day we decided to lift our spirits by going out for a chilly romp by the frozen Elbow River through Stanley Park. I’ve already mentioned this, but one of my favourite things about Calgary is that even if you don’t have a car to get you out to the mountains, there are still plenty of places to enjoy some nature and pretty views!

The snow-covered, frozen Elbow River

The walk took us about an hour to an hour and a half, and that’s only because we stopped so often to look at the wintry magic happening all around us.

We got off the bus at Lansdowne Ave SW, and made our way to the Elbow River pathway, less than a minute away. The bit we were on is mostly a straightforward path with almost no twists and turns, so it’s easy to just look around and get lost in your thoughts as you make your way through.

The first thing I noticed as soon as we got onto the path was the sheet of pure white ice that covered where the river was supposed to be. For a quick moment, I wondered where the river was, and I thought I was just looking at a snow-covered field, until I realized it was actually thick ice underneath a layer of fresh snow! Hollowed into the snow were curvy lines that ran along the surface and into each other like snakes where people and children had passed through on skis or sleds. It made me a teeny bit envious for all the winter fun we missed out on as kids, spending our Christmases on a sunny island, often with our sleeves up to our elbows. Something I’m sure those growing up in freezing, snowy winters would have loved better than anything. But then, we always wish for that which we don’t have. Really, we were lucky to be able to enjoy so much warmth and sunshine! Still, sledding down a small snowy hill and onto a frozen river sounds like tons of fun, too!

Walking along the Elbow River Pathway

After walking along a path lined with trees and pretty houses on both sides of the river for a while, on a road called Riverdale Ave SW, we arrived at a point where the trail led away from the street and right into Stanley Park. Here, we were surrounded by snow-covered trees and bushes, with patches of yellow grass poking out of the deep snow. Only a few other people could be seen on the trail, so there was barely any sound aside from the crystallized ice being crushed underneath our weight, and our own breath underneath our masks, which we kept on to stop our faces from freezing. When I wasn’t focusing on that delicious sound, we would stop every now and again, sometimes because the pup would want to sniff a tree here and a corner there, and sometimes we just wanted to stare at the winter wonderland we found ourselves in. The sky was a stunning clear, cool blue that contrasted beautifully with that white world, and it would have been a shame not to take our time to soak it all in.

We leisurely strolled on along the pathway, until we got to a small clearing where we could either keep walking and make our way towards Rideau Rd SW, or go up a bit of a hill we had never been on before that would lead us onto a parallel path to the one we had been walking, but higher up, just off of 36 Ave SW. Happily, we opted for the latter. We walked a little further, getting our bearings, when we suddenly glanced to our right, onto the trail we had been on, slowly looked up, and laid eyes on one of the most stunning views!

Views (this photo does not do the scene justice)

By this point the previously blue skies had become rather cloudy, but that just added drama to the scene! Up ahead we saw the snowy path we had just left, and the icy river surrounded by patches of leafless, white trees and houses underneath what looked like a limitless sky, with the snow-capped mountains beyond, surrounding the entire area. We just stood there, shivering in the cold, and excitedly looking at those faraway mountains, as we fell in love with the landscape of Calgary once more.

We spent some time like this, just enjoying those gorgeous views and chatting, before walking along slowly towards the road and making our way back home, feeling cheerful and hopeful for the new year ahead.

A Year of Lessons

Trigger Warning: Mental Health, Depression, Anxiety

It’s been an intense year in so many ways for so many of us (really, it’s been like that for the last 2 years, but let’s focus on the past 12 months, for today). Going through 2021 in what we still call “the new normal” has been tough on everyone, but I believe it’s also been a learning experience. We lost many freedoms, we lost loved ones, we lost jobs, and on a more personal level the situation has made my anxiety and depression much worse than I could ever have imagined.

But somehow, through the hardships and heartache, I think many of us have also found ourselves and re-discovered old dreams. We have re-evaluated what our society should look like, what our work culture should be, and we’ve realized that we need to take care of both our bodies and our minds in order to really find a balance in our lives.

Speaking for myself and my little family, life forced us in a situation where it was better for us to go back to Eric’s home country. I say “forced” because if we had any other option, we would not have made the move during the pandemic, and I would certainly not recommend it to anyone. But in a way, it also gave us the push we needed to make that change. We had spent years talking about leaving Malta for greener pastures (literally and figuratively), and we always found an excuse not to go through with it, no matter how much we wanted it. So, in a way I’m grateful that we ended up in that situation in the first place.

Photo by Marcel Strauß on Unsplash

That in no way, shape, or form means that things have been easy for us. I naively thought that leaving Malta would mean I would magically be cured of that darkness that lurks in the deepest corners of my mind. Instead, that darkness rose to the surface. I can go whole weeks experiencing anxious and fearful thoughts, which in turn make me sink deeper and deeper into a depressive state. But the thing about being human is that we are also pretty damn resilient. Despite the darkness and sadness, I choose to look at this as a positive thing.

Like everything that has happened this year, the state of my mental health is just another hurdle that I believe is pushing me to something better. When Eric lost his job, we could have chosen to let the situation bring us down and defeat us. Instead, we found ourselves on the adventure of our lives, in a country we both love, and experiencing new and exciting things. Now, I choose to see my anxiety and depression in the same way.

I spent years burying my head in the sand, ignoring past trauma, and putting my mental health on the back burner for so long that it inevitably all rose to the surface. This is what made me realize that needing help is not a weakness. It made me realize that there are people I can rely on, and that it is OK to rely on them. It made me realize that talking about our feelings and asking for help, be it talking to a loved one, calling a helpline, or finding a therapist, are the bravest things that we can do. My journey has brought me to this point, where I finally decided to take care of myself and seek the help I’ve been needing for so long.

Photo by Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash

People talk a lot about New Year resolutions and new beginnings, ranging from going to the gym and quitting smoking, to starting a new hobby and doing new things. And these are all wonderful, positive things to do. But I think the most important promise we can make for 2022 and the rest of our lives is to be kinder to ourselves, and to pay attention to our general health, and that includes taking care of our minds. As a society we seem to have forgotten that to take care of ourselves is also important – we put a lot of value in the hustle (to the point of burnout), in pleasing others, and in taking care of a million different things, except for ourselves. And I think it’s time we changed that – both on an individual level and as a society.

Here’s to 2022 – a year for new beginnings.

A year where we learn to take care of ourselves.

A year where we allow ourselves to not be OK and we talk about it.

A year where we really listen to those who are struggling.

A year where our health and wellbeing will no longer be our last priority, but our first.

Wishing you all peace and calm for the new year!

If you or anyone you know are struggling with feelings of anxiety or depression, please speak to someone you trust, and call your local mental health crisis helpline.

Feature Image: Mitchell Hartley on Unsplash

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Thoughts on Homesickness, Mental Health, and Gratitude

Moving to a new country is an odd experience – one filled with so many different emotions that it’s sometimes hard to understand what it is that you’re feeling.

On our last day in Malta, I remember feeling excited, elated, joyful, and looking forward to this new, thrilling chapter. But there were other, more uncomfortable sensations. I was nervous and scared about the unknown, a lot of different what-if scenarios wreaking havoc in my brain. Then there was that pit of sadness and a bit of loneliness in my stomach, knowing that to make this dream come true I had to leave everything I ever knew behind – parents, family, friends, and a sense of security that comes with growing up on one of the smallest countries in the world. Those feelings make you wonder if you’re doing the right thing or if you’re going to end up with regret.

These are all perfectly normal thought processes when you’re preparing for a major change, and it’s important to remember to let yourself feel your feelings, but to not let those fears take over. Change is always scary as well as exciting, and I know that I will never regret taking that leap. I firmly believe that the things really worth doing are the ones that scare you the most!

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get homesick, or that there aren’t days where I wish I could be sitting in my mom’s kitchen eating one of her delicious dishes (man, I’m going to eat so much when I get back – be prepared, ma!), while my dad is watching football or telling jokes, and their attention-seeking but cute little chocolate-coloured chihuahua is pawing at my feet, looking for attention or scraps (mostly scraps). I’m grateful for the wonderful little family my husband and I have built, but I will always miss those who have raised me and been with me since the day I was born.

I miss being able to meet up with a friend for a plate of perfectly cooked pasta or a pizza and some wine, chatting freely about life and dreams and love and the weirdness of it all. Although I’m grateful to be going through this adventure with my love and best friend, I still miss the odd girly night out and chat.

And then there’s the sea. Not being able to walk along the coast when I need a time out, breathing in that salty air, and letting the sound of the waves wash away whatever sadness or worry I may have has been tougher than I could have imagined. I am grateful for the views of the mountains, and the beautiful lakeside walks, but it doesn’t make me miss the sea any less. When I was sad, I found myself near the sea. When I was happy, I found myself near the sea.

Looking out at the sea from Dingli Cliffs, Malta

Being away from home has taken a toll on my mental health, and there have been days where it’s been hard to get out of bed, nights where it’s been difficult to keep the tears from falling down, and things feel even more hopeless than ever. I underestimated how such a big change could affect my mind (in fact, I naively thought that getting away was going to magically make my anxiety and bouts of depression disappear), and it took a lot of late-night chats with Eric, and trial and error to figure out how to deal with those darker emotions in a healthy and positive way.

Meditation, taking the time to breathe, and learning how to let my mind relax, even if that just means taking time to lie down, close my eyes, and listen to some music has been one of the greatest tools.

When I start to feel homesick or I feel like I might start spiralling, I make sure to talk about it, usually with Eric, but sometimes with a trusted friend. Or if I can’t talk to someone right there and then, I just write it all down in a journal, letting the words and feelings spill onto the page until I start to understand my emotions and what’s causing them, and I begin to feel a little better.

And one of the best things I feel I can do for myself when I need some extra help is being active – working out, going for a long walk and getting some fresh air, or dancing it out in my kitchen with the pup jumping at my face in excitement. Movement has always been a great way of getting any nervous or negative energy out and getting those endorphins going.

Homesickness can hit at any time – even just thinking of our weekly Sunday lunches can make me feel a twinge of sadness. Thankfully, we live in the digital era, where loved ones are only a quick phone or video call away. Sometimes, I’ll even try to recreate some of my mother’s recipes or make a more Mediterranean meal to get a taste of home, and it always cheers me up. Although to be honest, all good food puts me in a better mood, and thankfully I married an absolutely fantastic chef!

Despite the homesickness and feelings of sadness that might crop up, I still look forward to the future, and I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to experience living somewhere new. Waking up every morning and opening my blinds to see mountains in the distance fills me with a sense of peace and joy that’s hard to describe. The future is filled with adventure and new things to learn and discover!

Our first walk in Toronto

One thing I’ve learned is that life is not about being happy all the time. Life is about embracing the happy moments and the sad ones and realizing that every single feeling and emotion are a part of being and feeling alive. Those moments of sadness and homesickness come from a place of happy memories and love, and so I’ll hold onto them just as tightly as the good times. Moments of darkness have helped me discover my own strength, as well as made me realize that it is OK to reach out to others when you need help – those moments have made me grateful for the kindness and love of those around me, both near and far.

The past eight months have certainly been a rollercoaster of emotions, and as we’re nearing the end of the year, I can’t help but feel like these experiences have pushed me so far out of my comfort zone that they’ve been pivotal in my own emotional and mental growth. One more thing to be grateful for.

Here’s to the lessons and adventures of the future!

If you or anyone you know are struggling with feelings of anxiety or depression, please speak to someone you trust, and call your local mental health crisis helpline.

Feature Image: Artem Kovalev on Unsplash

Walking Along Glenmore Reservoir

It was almost Summer when we finally decided to venture somewhere new, here in Calgary. Most of our walks had been around the area where we live – exploring our new surroundings, learning about the best places to go for short walks with Chappie, and discovering lush green fields close to home. The few longer walks we had been on were a couple of trails downtown: the Elbow River Pathway, Prince’s Island Park, and St Patrick’s Island in the East Village. All fantastic short trails with beautiful scenery for those days when you want to get away from the chaos of the city while still staying close to all the conveniences of urban living.

One of Calgary’s greatest attributes (and the main reason we moved here) is the amount of open green spaces available. While it is very much a modern city, with tons of restaurants, shops, and things to keep you busy, it’s also a great place for those who love being outdoors and spending time in nature. Alberta is one of the most beautiful provinces in Canada, with mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, prairies, and even badlands, so it’s no surprise that this city offers some of the most stunning scenery and views, even on its urban trails. Great news for us! Because while Alberta is massive, and those mountain trails are only a couple of hours outside of the city, we are still happily exploring the city itself, before we set forth into wilder terrain.

Which brings me back to that day in early June. We finally felt a little more settled in our new home, and Chappie had become more accustomed to the new environment and seeing wildlife without losing his mind (in Malta, the most wildlife you’ll see in towns are the stray cats and dogs, so squirrels and hares were definitely a surprise!).

It was a gorgeous, hot Sunday – the sun was already high up in a clear blue sky, and a few white, fluffy clouds were moving along with the cool breeze. A perfect day to explore somewhere new! We had decided upon Glenmore Reservoir as it was only about an hour away from downtown by bus, and we were still getting used to the transport system at this point. As the name suggests, this is a large reservoir on the Elbow River, surrounded by uninterrupted pathways on the edge of the water, made for both pedestrians and cyclists.

Surrounded by Nature

Once there, we realized something about Calgarians – they are definitely very active! If you’re looking for a quiet walk off the beaten path, this is not going to be it. The whole place was buzzing with people kayaking, families having picnics on the grass, children playing, pups dipping their paws in the water, couples enjoying a stroll along the trails, and cyclists whizzing past, the sharp clinking sound of their bike bells ringing every few seconds. Although I tend to enjoy quieter walks, I also love seeing people being outside and enjoying the gift that is nature, so it was lovely to see so many out and about.

Glenmore Reservoir has a number of trails and paths, with the longest loop being about 15km. We chose one of the shortest paths: the South Glenmore Park Loop, which only took us a little under 2 hours to complete. We began the trail at the point near Heritage Park Parking Lot A, next to a small, steep, grassy hill with a tiny blue windmill at the top, and a lovely view of the reservoir and tree-lined shoreline on the other side. Large bits of pollen flying in the wind made the scene all the more idyllic and fairytale-like (although my sinuses weren’t quite in agreement).

The trail itself is extremely straightforward to follow, making it even easier for us to just enjoy the views of the water and surrounding greenery. As we walked along the paved walkway, the air was thick with the sounds of people chatting, the shrill calls of wild birds and cicadas, the rustling of the trees, and those clinking bike bells, all in a grand but gentle chorus under the heat of the June sun.

Eric and Chappie (and a lot of pollen)

Eventually, the path became a little quieter as we walked further into the trees, and we stopped every once in a while, to take in the views of the reservoir and the mountains in the distance, and to enjoy a few gulps of water as the wind dried the sweat off our foreheads – I had severely underestimated just how hot Calgary can get! Even Chappie seemed to be feeling the heat as he cooled off underneath the shade of the trees, laying on the grass next to his water bowl, and panting loudly away.

At the loop, which is close to the Glenmore Sailing School, things quickly became quite lively again, with people everywhere, shattering the already thin veil of illusion that we had enjoyed for the past 40 minutes or so, that we were somewhere far away from civilization. The rest of the trail ahead appeared a lot busier than what we had already walked, as it was closer to the road, so we decided to go back the way we came instead, and walk parallel to the rest of the trail, preferring to stay close to the gentle, lulling sound of the water, and further away from the noise of the crowds and real life for as long as possible.

Towards the end of the path, we decided to take a detour into a large car park with a couple of restaurants where we could sit down and grab a quick bite for lunch before continuing ahead into the final 20-minute stretch of the trail and making our way home. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that all three of us were grateful to get out of the scorching sun for a while and get some cold refreshments before moving on, especially our pup who was born with a weak leg and tends to need some proper rest on walks. We made our way to the end, slowly, returning to that steep, grassy hill, before enjoying the views one last time, then walking back to the bus stop.

With Chappie

If you’re looking for a relaxing city walk in Calgary that’s also dog-friendly, and you don’t mind the crowds, then I definitely suggest trying the South Glenmore Park Loop. It’s a quick hike that’s very easy to get to, but still provides beautiful surroundings for your senses to feast upon. I’m curious to see what the trails here are like come winter!

PRACTICAL INFO:

South Glenmore Park Loop map (from All Trails app)

• Length: 5.5 km loop (3.4 miles)
• Terrain: Paved
• Difficulty: Easy
• Skill Level: all
• Wheelchair Accessibility: Yes
• Dog friendly: Yes (dogs on leash)
• Family friendly: Yes
• Swimming: No