After scarfing down my lovely breakfast – rock-hard granola bar with an exquisite Fireball whisky demi-glace – I speculated that neurons were once again sending signals to my brain. (The “speculation” part tipped me off.) This was good. It had been a long, cold night in the tent. But now, with fire made and body fuelled, signs of hope started emerging. The morning gloom was fading. And then, as the sun crested the distant ridgeline and fingers of fog started burning red-orange over the half-frozen surface of Upper Kananaskis Lake, my senses really started tingling. I grabbed my camera and tripod and sauntered down to the snowy shore to capture the show.
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