Madison Clark, 27

Hey, I’m Madison! If we ever meet in person, it’ll probably be on a trailhead at 6am, because that’s genuinely where I’m happiest — coffee in one hand, questionable weather in the forecast, and the Rockies doing their thing in front of me.

I was born in Calgary and I’ve never seriously considered leaving. People joke that Calgarians are just mountain people who happen to work in offices, and honestly? They’re right. I grew up in the northwest with parents who believed weekends were for the outdoors, not the mall. My dad’s an engineer, my mom’s a nurse, and both of them can still out-hike most of my friends. We spent every summer camping around Kananaskis, and I learned to read a trail map before I learned to drive. My younger brother now lives in Vancouver and claims the coast is better — we have an ongoing, extremely serious debate about this that may never be resolved.

I’m an environmental consultant, which is a fancy way of saying I help development projects avoid wrecking the landscape I love. I work with a firm downtown, but my favourite days are field days — I’m out near Canmore or out east doing wildlife surveys and reclamation assessments. Last fall I was doing a site visit and a moose just… walked through the middle of our survey grid. Stood there, stared at us like we were the weird ones, and ambled off. My colleague got the whole thing on video and it’s still the best thing on my phone. The office days are fine — reports, coffee, the usual — but field days are why I do this job.

Hiking is my religion. My all-time favourite is Ha Ling Peak near Canmore — it’s short, steep, and the view from the top makes you forget your legs are screaming. Grassi Lakes is my go-to when friends visit because the turquoise water does all the impressing for me. And Johnston Canyon at sunrise, before the crowds arrive, with the catwalks over the blue-green water — that’s my church. I’ve done Lake Louise more times than I can count, and I have strong opinions about which shoreline path is best (the far one, obviously, keep walking past where everyone stops).

The other thing you should know about me: I am a craft coffee menace. Kensington is my neighbourhood — I live in a little walk-up above the village — and I’m on a personal mission to try every cortado within walking distance. Higher Ground is my regular; the baristas know my order and my hiking plans for the weekend. Saturday mornings I do the Kensington loop: coffee, the bookshop, the Plaza Theatre if there’s something good on, and a wander through the shops. In summer I bike the Bow River pathway all the way out west and back, and in winter I’m at Sunshine Village snowboarding — badly on powder days, joyfully on all days.

Calgary itself is underrated and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Stephen Avenue in July, all patios and buskers. The first snowfall when the whole city goes quiet. Stampede week when everyone suddenly owns cowboy boots. The way the mountains just appear on a clear morning like they were always there — because they were.

One more thing: fall in Kananaskis is my secret season. Everyone flocks to the mountains in summer, but late September, when the larches turn gold and the trails empty out, is pure magic. I have a tradition of doing the Ptarmigan Cirque larch hike every fall with my dad — same trail, same thermos of terrible instant coffee he insists on bringing, same argument about whether the larches are “more gold or more orange” this year. Some traditions don’t need improving.

What am I looking for? An adventure partner, first and foremost. Someone who’ll say yes to a 5am trailhead without complaining (much). Someone who cares about the planet — you don’t have to be an activist, but you should probably recycle without being asked. I need good banter, because the drive to the mountains is long and silence is suspicious. Kindness matters more than fitness level; I’d rather hike slowly with a good person than fast with a jerk. And if you can make a decent campfire coffee, honestly, that’s basically a marriage proposal in my world.