If you were to pack up your car in Montreal, load a camera, hiking boots, trekking poles, a canister or two of bear spray, and then proceed to drive west for thousands of miles on the Trans-Canada Highway, you would bear witness to a rapidly changing landscape. Leafy green forests and vast lakes gradually turning into a sprawl of golden grassland, dotted with pronghorns or pocked and scarred by decades of agriculture. After hours of flat, endless prairie highway, you might begin to grow anxious, eager to arrive at your intended destination. It is the mysterious promised land, heaven on Earth, beautiful and dangerous; the coveted reward waiting for you almost four thousand kilometres west of a dull urban existence. The Rocky Mountains. You’ve been enticed by posts that flood your Instagram feed with glacier-capped peaks, azure alpine lakes, meadows of wildflowers, abundant wildlife, long summer days and bright ...