Welcome back, fellow adventurers! In our last episode we narrowly dodged a Rs. 27,000 disaster, to a Gujju, that kind of loss is unimaginable, almost as unimaginable as what happened next.
Today, we find ourselves at the stunning Maligne Canyon, where the scenery is breathtaking. This post recounts how we lost my son, before finding him.
Catch Up on the Adventure So Far:
Maligne Canyon
Our day began with a promising blue sky and the kind of fresh mountain air that makes you want to breathe in deep and never leave. First on our agenda was Maligne Canyon—the deepest in Jasper National Park, plunging over 50 meters in places. But this canyon isn’t just about dizzying heights; it’s also home to mesmerising potholes carved by waterfalls and streams. As we marvelled at nature’s handiwork, little did we know, an adventure of our own was about to unfold.
The canyon can be explored via a trail that stretches about 4 km one way, winding through six different bridges. While the first four bridges are relatively close together, the 5th and 6th are a bit more of a trek. Our group of 12 included 4 seniors, 5 middle-aged adults, one teenager, an almost-teen, and one infant. Given our diverse group, we decided to aim for the 5th bridge as our endpoint, allowing the seniors to turn back whenever they wished and return to the parking lot.
Bridge over the Canyon
Deep potholes formed by water
The views from the bridges were nothing short of breathtaking. Imagine standing on a bridge suspended over a vast canyon, surrounded by lush green trees under a clear blue sky. If the photos are stunning, just imagine the real thing—it’s nature at its most awe-inspiring.
Blue skies, green forest, white water, brown rocks, uff the beauty!
As we continued along the trail, each turn revealed another picturesque angle of the canyon, making it hard to resist snapping photos at every step.
Notice the fish bone tree!
After crossing the 4th bridge, we set our sights on the 5th, which was about 1.5 km away. Our large group moved slowly, pausing frequently to capture the beauty around us. But my son, my energetic pre-teen, had little patience for our leisurely pace. He was always ahead—if we were on the 1st bridge, he’d already be on the 2nd; if we reached the 3rd, he was at the 4th. By the time we neared the 4th bridge, my Son had already seen it and was forging ahead. Despite his head start, I could always spot him just a little way in front.
As we made our way towards the 5th bridge, we walked about 250 meters from the 4th when we stumbled upon a small, charming waterfall. The water seemed to burst from a single point before fanning out into an almost perfect equilateral triangle.
By this point, we had walked a total of 2.25 km, and the strain of carrying the infant had begun to wear on us. The group decided we had experienced enough of the trail's wonders for the day, and it was time to start making our way back to the car.
Panic in the Canyon
We had decided to head back, but My Son didn’t know about this change in plans. By this time, he was well out of my sight. As a group, our pace was no match for his. But I assumed he was only a few meters ahead. I wasn’t too worried—yet.
I told everyone to wait while I went ahead to find him and bring him back. The trail was well-marked and unidirectional, so I was confident I’d catch up to him quickly. I started walking swiftly, scanning the path ahead. But after a few hundred meters, there was still no sign of him.
Now, a mix of fatigue, frustration, and anger started bubbling up inside me. “Why couldn’t He just stay with the group? Why did he have to rush ahead?” The scenery around me was undoubtedly breathtaking, but I was in no mood to appreciate it. My swift walk turned into a jog, and I began calling out, his name hoping my voice would reach him faster than my legs could.
I strained to hear any response, tuning my ears to catch even the faintest sound. But the forest was silent—no voice, no rustling, nothing. I must have covered about 500 meters of rough terrain, and still, there was no sign of him.
My jog turned into a full-on sprint, my calls growing more frantic. Panic was setting in. Just then, my phone rang—it was my wife. She wanted to know why I was taking so long. When I told her I hadn’t found Him yet, I could hear the panic in her voice too. She didn’t know what to do, and honestly, neither did I.
For the first time, the gravity of the situation hit me, we had lost My Son in an unfamiliar country, in an unfamiliar city, on an unfamiliar trail, deep in the woods. He had no food, no water, no money, and no way to contact us. He knew my phone number, but it was an Indian number. For him to call me, someone would have to lend him a phone and allow him to make an international call. I felt utterly helpless, miserable, angry, frustrated, terrified—a bitter cocktail of negative emotions, all swirling around inside me.
I kept sprinting towards the 5th bridge when I came across a group of people. Hearing me shout, they asked, “Are you looking for a young boy in a blue jacket, traveling alone?” My heart skipped a beat. “Yes! Have you seen him?” They nodded, “He’s way ahead of you. You’ll have to hurry.” Relief washed over me—they’d seen him! But then, panic set in again—if he was that far ahead, how would I ever catch up?
I must have covered nearly a kilometer when the unthinkable happened: the trail split. One path led to the 5th bridge, and the other to the 6th. There was a signpost indicating the distance—200 meters to the 5th bridge, 700 meters to the 6th. I had to choose, and the wrong choice could mean losing precious time and making it even harder to find My Son.
Although I wasn’t sure if He would have noticed the sign, I decided to take the path to the 5th bridge, hoping he had followed our original plan.
I was still sprinting and shouting when I spotted another group coming towards me from the direction of the 5th bridge. I asked them if they’d seen a young boy in a blue jacket. “No, we haven’t seen any boy,” they replied. “There’s nothing else on that side—just the bridge and a parking lot. We’re coming from there, so we would’ve seen him if he were there.” My heart sank. I was on the wrong path.
I made a quick U-turn and started running towards the 6th bridge. My phone rang again—again my wife. She was in tears when I told her I hadn’t found Our Son and that the trail had split. I could hear the fear in her voice.
I sprinted another 300 meters towards the 6th bridge when I came across an old man. He asked if I was looking for a young boy. When I said yes, he told me he had seen the boy near the 5th bridge. Thanking him, I made another U-turn and sprinted back toward the 5th bridge, about 500 meters away.
On the way, I ran into the same group that had told me they hadn’t seen My Son near the 5th bridge. They were now heading towards the 6th bridge. One of them suggested that I give them my phone number so they could call me if they found My Son at the 6th bridge. I thought it was a great idea and quickly handed over my number before sprinting again towards the 5th bridge.
As I reached the spot where the trail split, still shouting his name I suddenly heard a familiar voice: “Yes, what is it?” It was My Son. Relief flooded through me, quickly followed by anger. Now I was sprinting and shouting, “WHERE ARE YOU? YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE!” His voice, growing stronger as I closed the distance, responded, “I’m here. What happened?”
I finally reached the 5th bridge and saw him—cool as a cucumber, gazing at me in surprise. He wasn’t hurt, worried, or in distress - that was all me. He looked at me, puzzled, as if wondering why this man was running and screaming like a lunatic. When I got close enough, the thought of scolding him crossed my mind, but instead, I pulled him into a tight hug. It had been the longest 45 minutes of my life, not knowing whether I would find my son or not.
After catching my breath, I asked him why he had gone so far ahead. I told him I’d been shouting for him, but he couldn’t hear me. He replied, “We had decided to go to the 5th bridge, right? So I came here and waited. What’s my fault in this? If you guys decided to turn back, that’s on you.” He was partly right but also very wrong, so I explained how group dynamics work and how risky it was for him to go so far ahead. I told him he could have gotten lost or, worse, kidnapped. That day, we set some ground rules—he could stay ahead, but always within earshot. He agreed.
As my anger faded into relief, I called my wife. She was still crying, but I guessed those were tears of joy. As we made our way back to the group, I was curious to know how he had managed to stay out of sight. I asked him what he did after reaching the 5th bridge. “I needed to take a dump,” he said, “so I went to the restroom near the parking lot at the 5th bridge.” Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder the group hadn’t seen him—they must have missed each other while he was in the restroom! I should have guessed it—My Son is like a dog, marking his territory at every new place he visits!
I’m incredibly grateful to all the people who helped me along the way, confirming that He was ahead of me, and especially to the old man who eventually put me on the right track. My relief was turning into joy as we walked back through the beautiful trail, finally able to appreciate its beauty.
About 500 meters from our group, I received a call from Park Canada. “Hello, I’m calling from Park Canada. Did you lose your son? Are you at Maligne Canyon? How can we help?” I told them I had found Him and thanked them for their concern. It turned out the group I had given my number to had informed a Park Canada official, asking them to help me find My Son. I was amazed at how quickly they responded and how much they cared.
When we finally reunited with my wife and the rest of the group, they looked visibly relieved. They all reiterated how risky His actions had been and how close we had come to disaster.
Scenic Drives and Savory Delights
As we left the excitement of Maligne Canyon behind, it was time to head towards Calgary, our base for the night. The journey was nothing short of magical, with postcard-perfect scenes unfolding at every turn. The light was just right, the weather was crisp and clear, and the scenery—breathtakingly perfect!
The road stretched endlessly before us, winding through the stunning landscape, making every moment feel magical!
We ended this eventful day with a cozy family dinner in Banff town. The restaurant was on the pricey side, but the Indian food was absolutely delicious, worth every penny.
Next Time
As our adventure nears its end, we’ll visit the picturesque Minnewanka Lake and explore a few hidden gems around Calgary. Stay tuned for the final chapter of our Canadian journey!
