Run fourteen hundred fifty kilometers of sedimentary rock — a wall across Alberta and British Columbia. It's hung on my wall in Weiser since the first postcard.
Office days run on decimals — timesheets, ledgers, ink dry times on a sketch. The mountains run on a different clock. Glacial. Patient. Unmoved by a deadline.
The highest point — nearly four thousand meters. You don't summit that on a weekend. You plan it like a ledger: one line, one leg, one resupply at a time.
I sketch prairie horizons in forty-five-second layers, waiting for the ink to set before the next pass. The Rockies are the same discipline turned vertical.
The trek is a year out. But the discipline is now: log the miles, dry the ink, keep the ledger honest. One day the prairie gives way to peaks — and I'll be ready.