My legs were locking up and I was beginning to regret the extra food and drink that I had packed prior to leaving Edmonton. My daughter, nearly one-year-old, sat clinging to her pack, her head drooping with fatigue. The three hours in the pack were starting to wear on her senses and the energetic noises and movements that filled the first couple hours were starting to wane.  My wife was keeping a positive outlook and provided the motivation I needed to push every step forward. My brother and sister-in-law were not far behind and had jumped onto my hair-brained idea to head into the mountains without much hesitation. Most people thought we were crazy for booking an alpine cabin for a vacation with our toddler. But her name is Sierra - to me, nothing felt more right.