Alone in the Canadian Rockies, I kept to the shoulder season, when the lakes are still loosening their grip on ice and snow hangs in bands along the gullies. Days moved at walking pace: water filtered at the shore, route-finding around thaw and scree, the steady pull of switchbacks to a pass. This series sits between seasons; limestone walls, a cold, clearing lake, and a silence you can feel in your chest. Marking the kind of place that turns a solo trek into a conversation with weather, scale, and time.