Blue Jeans On the Mountain
One thing I recommend is that if you climb a mountain, you shouldn’t wear jeans—but there are times when you might just have to. It just so happened that my goal that day was to reach a ridgeline in Jasper National Park, and all I had with me were jeans, a rain jacket, and a pair of snowshoes.
When circumstances interfere with your goals, it can be challenging to keep your original mindset. I was traveling from Alaska to Minnesota, taking in the early spring smells and the crisp nights, with the northern lights still active along the Alaskan Highway, illuminating the road at night. At its lowest points, spring flowers were in bloom; at its highest, the snow was feet deep, and caution had to be taken while traveling through avalanche zones. My plan along this road trip was to take advantage of the scenery and learn everything I could about my new camera, the Canon R5II. It was supposed to be a maiden journey, you could say—but how much of an adventure can it really be if nothing goes wrong?
Then it happened: my transmission blew up right outside of Prince George, Canada. I was definitely not happy, given that it completely threw me off the tracks for my plan. With every second ticking by, I grew more impatient, afraid I wouldn’t get another chance to experience the mountains with the freedom and accomplishment I was craving.
So the next day, I decided to use my rental car to the fullest and take advantage of the unlimited miles clause. I put on my jeans, grabbed my snowshoes, a light jacket, and all my camera gear, and set off—leaving my car behind in Prince George. No hotel reservation. No food besides a bag of Costco cashews and a bottle of water.
Honestly, in a way, it was a different type of freedom. I felt like I had nothing else to lose—my schedule was already wrecked, my plan thrown apart, and the only thing I still had was time. So I took advantage of it. I drove deep into the Rockies, letting the towering peaks replace the frustration I’d been carrying. Every mile farther from Prince George felt like reclaiming something I thought I’d lost.
The trailhead was quiet, the kind of silence that feels almost sacred. Snowshoes on, jeans stiff from the cold, and that light rain jacket barely holding back the wind, I started the climb. Step by step, I remembered why I chase these places—because mountains strip away everything unnecessary. No deadlines. No broken transmission. No perfect plan. Just effort, breath, and the steady rhythm of moving upward.
By the time I reached the ridgeline in Jasper National Park, the world had opened up. I pulled out my Canon R5II—finally giving it the maiden journey it deserved—and captured what became one of the best photos I’ve ever taken. Dramatic peaks, fresh snow catching the light, and a horizon that felt infinite.
And there I was: out of breath, freezing, wearing jeans on a mountain like an amateur—but standing in one of the most breathtaking scenes I’ve ever witnessed.
That’s the funny thing about adventure. Sometimes the best moments come when everything falls apart. Sometimes you get the picture of a lifetime because your transmission blew up. And sometimes, yeah… it really is worth wearing jeans while climbing a mountain—because the mountain doesn’t care what you’re wearing. It just asks that you show up.
