Banff is inarguably one of the most spectacular places to exist on this earth. The scale of the mountains in the Canadian Rockies is akin to the granite peaks of Yosemite. I live in the mountains, but the mountains of the Wasatch front are nowhere near these mountain majesties. During our week of camping in the Rockies, we experienced some thunderstorms. The occasionally rainy weather meant that there was a lot of moisture in the air generally over the course of that week, and the interplay of the clouds and the mountain peaks was stunning.

Compared to Jasper National Park, Banff felt somewhat like how I'd imagine a real-life Jurassic Park to feel. The campground where we were situated was bounded on all sides by a paved road, electric fencing, and bear guards (like a cattle guard, but on a larger scale, to allow cars entry but to deny bears the ability to enter the campground). Typical bear precautions and protocol were followed, but there was some reassurance in the trappings of safety surrounding the campsites, albeit a funny irony to me in it.

We visited and hiked many of the attractions on this list—there is so much to see and do and we did not have time for it all, but I hope to make it back someday to pick up where we left off (and to revisit my favorite spots, of course).

Our trip to the Canadian Rockies revealed notable differences in the ethos and history of the Canadian National Park system versus that of its United States' counterpart. The NPS in the United States was founded primarily as a means of preserving wilderness and natural spaces. Parks Canada, on the other hand, formed from a very different history. Towns like Banff and Jasper popped up as the railroad spanned its way across Canada. Banff and Jasper were touted as resort-like vacation spots, meant to attract rail travelers. As a result, there are actual towns—the eponymous Banff and Jasper—which reside within the bounds of the parks. The parks themselves are traversed in portions by railroads, still operable and with train cars passing with some regularity. I found this fascinating, as it was so different from the ethos of the United States' NPS—most of the parks here celebrate the remoteness. I realize Yosemite has a post office and a chapel. and Yellowstone has an inn and other accommodations, but overwhelmingly, those services are part and parcel of the park, whereas in Banff and Jasper (the towns), you can find cute restaurants with wifi, farmers markets, and bookstores. I am still so fascinated by the differences.

The Banff farmers market was in full swing during one of our afternoons in town. The British Columbia berries looked so amazing, as did all the produce for sale. I sometimes joke that my superpower is finding a farmers market from a mile away.

these carrots!!!! I cannot get over their gorgeous hues.

I also truly appreciate the human who placed their vegetable wares in such visually pleasing arrangements—the variation of colors, textures, and forms is nothing short of delightful.

Cow's ice cream <3 my family first discovered Cow's in 2002 on our trip to Prince Edward Island; I was delighted to happen upon it again in the town of Banff.

The rest of the ensuing photos in this post are from Lake Minnewanka in Banff. We availed ourselves of the red adirondack chairs photo-op, obviously. The #ShareTheChair hashtag is Parks Canada's equivalent of the United States' National Park Service #findyourpark. Throughout the Canadian parks we visited (Jasper, Banff, Kootenay, Yoho), we would happen upon red adirondack chairs in scenic locales. It was a nice reminder to stop and enjoy the scenery—in between moments of hiking, these spots made perfect picnic sites to pause and enjoy the mountains and lakes on all sides.

This was only one of the many beautiful lakes we visited in Banff—some of my favorites are yet to come!

When Outdoor Voices opens a summer pop-up in a hip mountain town you've always wanted to visit, and it's within roadtripping range, you take the roadtrip. Alyanna, Yuki, and I spent a few days in Aspen, Colorado in summer 2017, camping just outside Aspen on BLM land (ever and always so very grateful for dispersed camping when all the fully serviced campgrounds are full at the height of camping season!). We loved exploring Aspen, trying great food, browsing the farmers market (those dahlias!), and exploring the outdoors. And it was fun to see the OV pop-up. I'm a fan of several years of their great activewear—as someone with a lot of opinions about textiles and clothing, I have so many good things to say about their clothes. Most of all, I love the ethos behind the brand—that of #DoingThings and using your outdoor voices (as opposed to indoor voices). Recreation and living an active lifestyle don't have to be glamorous, impressive things—it can be as simple as jumping rope, riding a beach cruiser, or walking a dog. Or roadtripping to Colorado. I have no regrets.

Revisiting these photos and this trip from two summers ago has me very much at the ready for many more camping adventures yet to be had in the coming months. There is something I love so much about sleeping out of doors, surrounded wholly and completely by beautiful natural scenes.

There are very few people who truly appreciate what I mean when I tell them I am from the Garden State.

Just now, writing that, I am suddenly feeling very nostalgic for my graphic tee from dELiA*s that bore a cute illustration and caption: "the Garden State: it grows on you!" (have just now returned from an internet rabbit hole of teen fashion research because apparently dELiA*s met an early demise but they have since made a comeback—although they certainly seemed alive and well when I shopped there as a teenager in the twenty-aughts!)

All this to say, I get as many blank stares when I say I grew up amongst forests and farmlands as I dole out when someone replies to my introductory pleasantries with a "New Joy-sey" (for the record: I do not know one! single! soul! who pronounces it such and is actually from the state; the people who say this are always New Yorkers/from Staten Island!!!).

Shocking, I know (particularly when witticisms like this abound in popular culture. Those jokes only apply to Newark)—but I grew up in a truly beautiful part of the state: south Jersey with its greenery and glorious produce. A couple summers ago (2017, to be precise), I was home for a visit to my parents and extended family, and I realized that I had a deep longing to capture the New Jersey I know and love in photographs. During my visit, my mom obliged me with many roadside stops (or in some cases,  simply slow-downs) so I could try and capture these familiar scenes of my upbringing.

Even these photos and this small photo essay do not truly do my homeland justice. To be perfectly honest, my dream is to spend a month in June or July back home, with nothing else to do but drive back roads (which are all of them) and stop at every tiny roadside farm stand, documenting this singular wonderful tradition. The notion of a proper 'farmers market' (booths and stalls and crowds and the like) was unknownst to me until I encountered them in Union Square in NYC and likewise in other big cities; where I grew up, you just stopped at the farm on your way home from wherever you had been coming or going. My family has our tried-and-true favorites (Mood's, Schober's, Grasso Girls), mostly out of convenience of the routes we frequented, but many more whose names and locations I could not possibly recall, because of their glorious plentitude.

Although I've spent nearly all my adulthood in Utah (college + post-college), I will always be a Jersey girl at heart—it is where I was raised and home of the worldview that shaped so much of who I am. A favorite story to illustrate this point: when I planned a week-long camping trip in the Canadian Rockies, I had planned out our menu in advance to simplify our grocery stop for produce before entering the park (having brought the dry goods with us). At a Walmart in Edmonton, Alberta, I asked my friend Laura how many ears of corn she wanted. She gave me a strange look and replied, "one." A few days later, I started a pot of water to boil over our campfire and we shucked the corn cobs. Because I had planned and orchestrated all of this, Laura and our fellow camper and friend Angie looked to me for direction on what other prep they could help with. I explained that the prep was done, as I dropped our four-total ears of corn into the pot to cook. Laura's exclamation and dawning realization still make me laugh to this day: "When you asked me how many ears of corn I wanted, I didn't know that corn was THE ENTREE!" I kid you not that it had honestly never occurred to me that corn wouldn't be the entrée, comprising most of a classic summer meal. When I told my parents this story, we all had a good laugh, and I expressed that my gastronomic-homesickness for Jersey sweet corn will likely never ever dissipate. I usually find all other corn to be insipid, grainy, and altogether disappointing in comparison to the corn of my childhood. It may simply be that I find the produce of my home state altogether superior in every way. I am probably not wrong—we are named for it, after all.

Anecdotes aside, I hope this post makes you smile and gives you a small glimpse into the landscapes and foods that feel like home to me.

fun fact: Hammonton blueberries (of HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY—BLUEBERRY CAPITAL OF THE WORLD and home to the annual blueberry fest) will always be my favorite blueberries. Some of our dear family friends lived in Hammonton when I was growing up and I was always jealous of/loved their blueberry shirts, with the Top Crop top-hatted-cane-wielding blueberry mascot. 

Every summer, my dad would buy several flats of blueberries, which we'd rinse and then store in our basement chest freezer. All winter long, we'd have fresh-frozen blueberries for our Honey Bunches of Oats with almonds (or other cereal of choice). <3 Dare I say, fresh frozen blueberries are far superior to their freezer-aisle counterparts.

"NO NASTY PEOPLE"—this is so dead-on South Jersey and I love it.

LOPES. need I say more.