Snow, Tea, Golf & Quiet Trails: A Rare Weekend With the Fam in the Rockies

There are winter weekends that feel calm, cozy, and restful… and then there are winter weekends like this one — the kind where you somehow cram five different sports, three different energy levels, and at least one identity crisis into forty‑eight hours. Ours fell firmly into the second category.

It was the kind of weekend that starts with optimism, ends with sore legs, and leaves you wondering how you’re simultaneously an adult with responsibilities and also someone who still forgets which foot goes in the snowboard binding first. A weekend that reminds you why you live in the Rockies, why you love the chaos, and why you occasionally need to disappear into the forest to recover from your own social battery.

But more than anything, it was a weekend that reminded us how good it feels to spend time with family — especially now that we’ve moved away and don’t get to see everyone nearly as often. When they’re here, we try to soak up every minute.

Here’s how it all went down.

Skiing for the Coordinated, Snowboarding for the Slightly Terrified

Let’s start with the obvious: skiing is for the coordinated/skilled members of the family. Snowboarding, apparently, is for me — the one who thought, “Sure, I haven’t done this in ten years, but how hard can it be?” Somehow, my body agreed and I managed to turn without immediately face‑planting.

Every Snowboard trip I go through the same emotional arc:

• Denial: “I definitely remember how to do this.”

• Panic: “Why is the ground moving so fast.”

• Acceptance: “Okay, turning is happening. We’re turning. We’re… alive.”

• Ego: “Honestly? I’m kind of good at this.”

• Humility: Immediately catches an edge and almost dies.

Note to self: get out more often. Ten‑year gaps are not ideal.

But despite my identity crisis, Lake Louise delivered. The snow was good, the views were the usual “postcard‑but‑make‑it‑real‑life” level of stunning, and — shockingly — it wasn’t a human traffic jam. No lift lines that made you question your life choices. No crowds of teenagers doing TikTok dances in the middle of the run.

And honestly? Sharing the slopes with family made it even better. When you don’t see each other often, even the chaotic moments feel special — the laughter, the near‑falls, the “did you see that?” moments. It all hits differently.

Tea, Skating, and Pretending We’re Classy People

After surviving the slopes, we kicked things off with something a little more our speed: skating first. Lake Louise wasn’t busy, which felt like winning the winter lottery, so we took full advantage. We glided around like we knew what we were doing — peaceful, calm, almost elegant… if you ignore the part where I nearly wiped out (I’m also not the best skater…more of a Summer sports guy).

Skating with family we don’t get to see often felt especially good. When you’ve moved away and visits are rare, even the simple moments hit differently. Just being out there together, laughing, wobbling, and soaking in the mountain views felt like a little gift.

Then, in a plot twist no one saw coming, we leaned into the fancy side of Lake Louise.

We booked the tea experience — which is absolutely not our usual MO — and suddenly found ourselves living our best “wealthy Victorian mountain tourist” lives. Little sandwiches. Tiny pastries. Tea poured from a pot that probably costs more than my snowboard.

And listen… I went in skeptical, but those little sandwiches? Elite. Those desserts? Even better. I ate the majority of them because, in this family, I am the designated human garbage bin — the one who finishes whatever everyone else “can’t” because they’re “full.” Full? Couldn’t be me.

But honestly, the best part wasn’t the food (though the food was dangerously good). It was sitting around the table with family we rarely get to see, catching up, laughing, and pretending we were far fancier than we actually are. Those moments feel rare now — and they matter.

Tea + skating + mountain views + family time = peak Canadian winter energy.

Launchpad Golf: Retired Millionaire Vibes With Questionable Aim

From elegance to chaos, we transitioned into Launchpad golf — which, if you’ve never been, is basically TopGolf but with more mountain views and more opportunities to question your hand‑eye coordination.

Launchpad has big “retired millionaire with questionable aim” energy. You stand there, swinging a club like you’re auditioning for a commercial, while the ball rockets off in a direction that is absolutely not where you intended.

Except — plot twist — I actually played well. Shockingly well. The kind of well that makes you think, “Maybe I am a golf person.” Maybe it was the sunshine. Maybe it was the 10‑degree weather in early February (which is unheard of). Maybe it was the fact that golf is basically just walking outside with occasional violence.

But suddenly I was excited for summer. Excited to get out on a real course. Excited for the outdoor vibe of golf — the fresh air, the views, the slow pace, the excuse to be outside without pretending to be athletic.

And doing it with family made it even better. There’s something about laughing together over terrible swings and surprise good shots that sticks with you. These are the moments we miss when we’re far away.

Launchpad was a vibe. A warm, sunny, early‑February miracle of a vibe.

Ending the Weekend the Only Way Introverts Know How

After all that socializing, movement, and pretending to be coordinated, we did what any self‑respecting introverts would do: we retreated into the woods.

Bragg Creek was the perfect reset button. Quiet. Peaceful. Exactly one other human on the trail — and we immediately pretended to be part of the forest so we didn’t have to interact. Classic.

There’s something about winter hiking that hits different. The air is crisp. The snow (in this case mud…) muffles everything. Mia was in her element, trotting around like she owns the place. And you get to exist in this little pocket of calm where the only thing that matters is the sound of your boots crunching on the trail.

It was the perfect way to decompress after a full weekend.

Why These Weekends Matter

Living in the Rockies isn’t just about the big adventures — the multi‑day hikes, the summit pushes, the epic road trips. It’s also about the small, chaotic, imperfect weekends that somehow become your favourite memories.

It’s about:

• Remembering how to snowboard without dying

• Skating on a lake that looks too pretty to be real

• Eating your body weight in tiny desserts

• Accidentally playing good golf

• Spending rare, meaningful time with family

• Ending the day in the forest, where everything finally feels quiet again

It’s about the balance — the chaos and the calm, the adrenaline and the stillness, the family time and the introvert recovery time.

These are the weekends that remind you that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. It just has to be lived.

The Takeaway

If there’s one thing this weekend taught me, it’s that winter doesn’t have to be endured — it can be embraced. Even if you’re slightly terrified on a snowboard. Even if your golf swing is questionable. Even if your social battery is running on fumes.

Get outside. Try the thing. Laugh at yourself. Eat the desserts. Skate the lake. Cherish the family time when you get it. Hide in the woods when you need to. And soak up every messy, beautiful moment with the people (and dogs) who make it all worth it.

Because honestly? Weekends like this hit different.