It’s that time of year again, and we’re off for Afternoon Tea, somewhere.
That was the first of our challenges: where. Don’t get me wrong, going to Banff is wonderful and it’s a tradition I’d like to keep. But at $95/person (plus $15/hour parking), it’s a painfully expensive treat that’s hard to justify when your income ain’t keeping pace with the rise in the cost of living. So we looked at Lake Louise (50% more expensive) and the Palliser here in Calgary (which doesn’t do Afternoon Tea except on weekends). And there just aren’t tea houses anymore…
The second challenge was the number of people. Historically, it’s either just been the four of us, or with Granny and Grandpa. This year, we also included Grandma, Nana, and Asinkwe, who was out for a short visit. (Regrettably, Grandma had to skip due to a near life-threatening illness.) Allen, however, was extremely generous and included everyone in his holiday gift.
The last one was unexpected: fog.
It’s not that Calgary doesn’t get fog, it’s just very strange to see it in January. And it was real pea soup-style fog, too. Visibility was sometimes only a couple of hundred metres, at best.
Allen, Jean, and Monkey went off to pick up Asinkwe at the airport (she was coming down in a bus from Edmonton) while Alex, Choo Choo, and I went to pick up Mom from her place. Despite an accidental on-ramp that took us the wrong way on Glenmore Trail, we were soon headed westbound. The roads were murky, hidden in the thick clouds that hugged the ground, turning vehicles into ghostly shapes not far ahead. Very few were turning on their lights, which didn’t help see what was going on. We made only one stop on the way out, to get some fuel at the Petro Canada next to Hwy 22.
The fog didn’t lift until we were past Scott Lake Hill. It was literally like coming out from under a blanket, where suddenly the sky was bright blue and the sun warmed everything. And it was like that all the way to the Banff Springs Hotel.
Mom hadn’t been to the Banff Springs since I was a little kid. She’d come out for a Tilden conference, kicking Cathy and me out in Saskatoon to stay with Nana (we probably went to Waskesiu, but I can’t remember). We were back in the Rundle Bar for the first time in years, though we were actually put into the adjoining Ivor Petrak room, which could accommodate our numbers (and, frankly, had a far better view).
(Who is Ivor Petrak and why does he get the recognition of a room? Until he rolled along in 1969, Canadian Pacific Hotels had gone downhill, like with the rest of CP’s passenger network. He oversaw turning Banff Springs into a year-round operation – it had been only seasonal until then – and also the massive renovations for the Banff Springs, Chateau Lake Louise, and Jasper Park Lodge into the elegant institutions that we still know them as today. It seems fitting that he be remembered with a dedicated room, but I feel they do him a disservice by hiding his photo and bio in the room that’s not often seen.)
The tea was, as usual, delightful. Even the “Mushroom and Walnut Salad” sandwiches were tasty, and I’m not a fan of mushrooms. (My only complaint, really, was that the bread was plain. We’ve had multiple types in the past, including pastry, so it was curious to have it so blasé.)
I couldn’t stay long after the tea. I had an Imaginative Fiction Writers Association (IFWA) meeting and I was on deck to do a critique – I didn’t want to be late, and I had no idea what the highway back would be like. (We’ve had a few cases where the Trans Canada Parking Lot held us up getting home.) Alex went back with the other car, while Mom and the kids came with me.
For the most part, the drive back was fine … right until we got to Scott Lake Hill. We could see the clouds hovering as we approached and as we headed up, we headed back under the cover of fog. The late afternoon light was swallowed and highlights burst on like Pop Rocks as the flotilla of vehicles headed east. The roads slowed down, too, as people became increasingly concerned with seeing the road (not that hard) and/or icy conditions (which there weren’t). We were home by 5:30. The others got back about a half hour later.
I do wonder if this is our last Fairmont New Years Tea, though. The cost is prohibitive and even though it’s a once-a-year thing, it’s the equivalent of a few grocery runs in cost. And I’m having trouble with that. During COVID, we made our own New Years Tea, and perhaps that’s what we should resume doing. It’s the most responsible thing to do – I would rather donate the difference in cost to needy people than try to feel like one of the well-to-do for a few hours a year.
