It was another frigid day, with the temperatures dropping into -20 C. I had already booked my next get away, but was reconsidering my choice of a northern Ontario yurt. For those of you that don’t know what a yurt is, it is basically a rather large tent with wooden supports that makes it more durable than a regular tent. Yurts are the traditional abodes of central Asian nomads such as Mongolians, and are easy to disassemble for nomadic tribes. Here in Ontario, yurts are more a glamping fad, but an option I am glad to have for this cold winter night. Even better, my yurt has a wood stove!!
Of course I needed to find a hike before I even heading to my yurt, and the small town of Kearney had plenty of trails to choose from. This little town is on the western edge of Algonquin Park and provides a starting point to access several trails. Off I went to find the Bare Rock route, considered an easy 3.3 km trail. I parked at the somewhat plowed parking area and gathered my gear with fingers that quickly became numb from the cold, and clipped on my snowshoes. I headed east along the trail, the snow slightly packed from a random snowmobile, through forests sparkling in the cold sun. While easy to navigate, I quickly worked up a sheen of perspiration, as what started as a gentle incline quickly became a more intense slope, so much so that even with the picks on my shoes I was sliding backwards at the steepest sections. Halfway up this never-ending hill, the Bare Rock trail turned left. Hmmm, the snow was deep, and fallen trees lay prone across the trail. No one else had been this way and the trail was difficult to traverse, as often my snowshoes would tangle in the hidden twigs and limbs. I choose to return to that original trail instead, to see where it led, and to avoid a broken ankle.
Back out on the main trail, I continued to climb, snowshoes crunching across the frozen snow. It was a brief moment of elation when I breached the summit, only to find that the never ending hill went straight down and up again. With the sun low on the horizon, I thought it prudent to head out of the bush. I stood at the top of that long hill, the trail twisting and turning around trees, and had a “Eureka” moment. Why slog my way down that hill, when I could sit on my coat with my gear and slide down like a toboggan! With excitement I started to unzip my coat, until my mostly dormant common sense sat up with alarm and began to shout at my exuberant impulsive self. I hesitated, hand on my partially opened zipper, and listened to the dueling sides of my psyche duke it out. Sadly, common sense won out, with a quick plea to my ego, reminding me that it would be an ignominious ending to my adventure if this middle aged woman needed to be rescued for coat sledding injuries. Fine, and with a regretful sigh I zipped my coat back up and started the slow climb back to my car.
Once at my car the gear came off and was tucked into my trunk, but as I removed my hat, my sweat soaked hair froze almost instantly, creating some interesting style choices. Time to find my yurt and warm up by a cozy fire. A short car ride later and here I am, trudging cross a cold field surrounded by dark woods, and with the wind stinging my face, pulling my sled holding my gear behind me. The smell of wood smoke drifted up from the yurt, a fire started by my lovely host to chase away the cold. The yurt was surprisingly large, with a king sized bed, two easy chairs and a small kitchenette. Instead of electricity, the tent was lit by the setting sun, and by the dancing flames of the fire. The big bed was calling me, and the soft mattress and heavy blankets had me feeling warm and snug. I dozed off to the crackle of flames and the last faint rays of the setting sun.
It was my cold nose that wakened me several hours later, and a need to scurry to the outhouse. The sky was clear and the stars were bright in the darkness, the faint starlight reflecting back from the white snow. Though the cold was intense, I spent a few minutes marveling at the beauty of a winter’s night, with no lights to break the darkness and no noise to disrupt the silence. Marveling at a winter’s night is even better when you have a warm place to hibernate, and with that I ducked back into the yurt, throwing another log on the fire and snuggling back under the blankets, content to sleep the night away, while dreaming of tobogganing with abandonment down that sleep hill. Tomorrow was soon enough for reality.