Lake Louise, Canada

In 1975, between my first and last years of grad school, I decided to spend the summer on a solo roadtrip out west. A few miles before I reached Lake Louise, I pulled over to wade in a rapidly running river. As I was about to clamber out of the water, I pulled a towel out of my jacket pocket — and watched my car keys come with it and soar out into the middle of the current, which carried them away.

Fortunately, the car was unlocked, so I was able to get to my owner's manual — which, fortunately, contained identifying numbers which allowed me to order a new set of keys from the dealer. Unfortunately, it took almost a week for the new keys to reach me, and my clothing and traveller's checks were locked in my trunk.

I spent the first night in a stall of the men's room in the lobby of the Chateau Lake Louise, and then hotel management took pity on me and allowed me to sleep in an unoccupied room in their employees' quarters. And I wound up having one of the best times I've ever had anywhere in the world. Every day, I'd walk in the woods to the far side of the lake and climb up to the glacier you can see in the center of the photo and bake in the summer sun, cooling myself off from time to time with a fistful of pure white snow. When I was hungry, I'd hang out at the lake shore, looking for a couple taking pictures of each other, and offer to snap a few shots of the two of them together. We'd "fall" into conversation, I'd tell them my sad story, and more often than not they'd treat me to a meal. Late every afternoon, I'd hitch down to the Greyhound bus station to see if my keys had come in yet, then hitch back up to the Chateau. I was in no hurry to get anywhere in particular, and the week wound up being the best part of the trip by far.

To date, I've never been back to Lake Louise — but I look forward eagerly to an eventual return visit. I may even throw my keys into a river, just for old times' sake....

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