It feels like the last few weeks were designed to lead up to this: winter camping in the backcountry, far enough from vehicles that it wouldn't be feasible to bail if the night got too cold. Two weekends of goofing off in Tobermory had done wonders for my winter skills: I had made a little sled to pull and tested it thoroughly (and decided that I needed some PVC tubes on the ropes to keep it from crashing into me on the downhills), I learned about packing way more clothing than you think you need, I became conscious of taking breaks now (not five minutes from now), and staying well fed and hydrated and dry, even if it means stopping to adjust clothing just when it seems like I'm having the most fun I could possibly have. Furthermore, I learned the value of liner gloves on cold days that involve cameras (and learned to keep my camera in an insulated pouch with a chemical warmer pad so it actually works when I shed my warm gloves to play with it). I learned to store my water bottle upside down, wear merino wool socks, and never ever let myself get a chill.
I would hate for all of that learning to be academic, so the winter camping trip to Norway Lake in Killarney Provincial Park was the perfect capstone to this winter of activity. After a flurry of emails, seven of us - Gary, Jeff, Sam, Sonia, Jim, Lee and I - had made plans for a snowy adventure.
Lee and I had met Gary during a Killarney trip last fall, and the idea of exploring further with someone who clearly knows more about the park than we do was very appealing - so I was pretty excited when Gary agreed to meet us on Norway Lake on Friday night. Double bonus was that he brought his friend Jeff, who - if he were the slightest bit of a show-off - could have made all my newly learned winter camping skills look like those of a novice on her first camping trip ever.
Lee, Jim, Sam, Sonia and I snowshoed in late Friday night. It was a billiantly clear night with a bit of moonlight. Fortunately, navigation was easy since all we had to do was follow the trail Gary and Jeff had broken earlier that day. We found the site they picked in a sheltered cove on Norway Lake and wasted no time setting up tents and disappearing into our warm sleeping bags.
Saturday saw all seven of us venture forth on a quest to find Quarzite Lake, high up in Blue Ridge. We crossed Norway Lake, followed a portage trail to Killarney Lake, and then bushwhacked up a gully through waist-deep snow.
The Quarzite Lake trip made a few things obvious: there is no spot on Blue Ridge that isn't stunningly gorgeous, even on days when it snows non-stop and visibility is poor. Jeff can read a map and navigate better than anyone I've ever met. Lee is phenomenal at energy-sucking trailbreaking and good-natured about route suggestions from the peanut gallery that is enjoying the fruits of his labour (at least, he's good-natured about suggestions so long as he agrees with them).
We made it to a cliff right above Quarzite Lake. I feel accomplished, even if I contributed nothing except beef jerky to the effort - I strolled along on a trail that others broke, and I never once pulled out my map. I had the GPS on, but, as Jeff pointed out, the direct bearing is rarely the best way to go in mountainous terrain.
It snowed steaily all of Saturday - we came back to tents with snow on them, and (after a nap) hung out in the kitchen in the trees by the fire while it continued to come down. The evening was mellow, with plenty of hot chocolate and interesting conversation (and sock-burning entertainment courtesy of Gary). By 8 p.m., the snow stopped coming down, the winds picked up, the sky started clearing and the temperatures dropped.
By 9 p.m., we were in bed. I was glad for my -20 sleeping bag, the fleece liner, and the summer bag I brought as well (not to mention the two sleeping pads I had). I snuggled into my fleece and down layers, and felt smug that I was toasty warm while outside it was painfully cold. At least, I was smug until about 3 a.m., when my bladder felt the need to annoy me. I ignored its pleas until 5 a.m., at which time I spent the only five minutes of the weekend during which I was cold.
We awoke to brilliant sunshine, and the spot we were camped in was sheltered from the brutal west wind. When I finally forced myself to leave the sleeping bag nest I'd burrowed in, it was warm enough that the frost inside the tent was starting to melt in the heat of the sun. Nothing like a dripping tent to get me moving. We packed up in leisure, hooked up the sleds, and were on our way.
Sonia, Sam and Jim decided to head straight for the parking lot and leave for home. The rest of us wanted to hike to Heaven Lake, one of the spots Gary had recommended to Lee and me when we met him in Killarney last fall.
I doubt that there are unattractive spots in Killarney, but Heaven Lake is one of those places that makes it obvious what all the fuss is about with this park. There is white quarzite, a perfect little lake with a wonderful campsite high up on a ridge, and a view that takes your breath away.
The wind was strong enough to rip all warmth from your body if you stopped moving, so we didn't linger. After a brief snack, we made our way back to the Norway-Kakakise portage where we had dumped the sleds and continued on to Carlyle Lake. Thanks to Sam, Sonia and Jim, the trail was well-packed and the going was easy for most of the way.
The beauty of winter hiking in Killarney is that - if the ice conditions permit it - you can follow the canoe route network, which means ice and portage trails. This makes sled pulling easy (particularly if Lee and Jeff push your sled up the steep bit at the start of the trail on Kakakise).
Carlyle Lake marked the home stretch. Despite the great trail that the others had left us, it was intense going straight into the wind. I could have sworn my sled got heavier after a slushy bit that prompted us to stop and clean our snowshoes, but it must just have been the wind. The last 45 minutes were head down and push kind of conditions - and I loved every minute of it.
But you know what I love most about winter camping? No bears, and you're always hungry. Thus you can (and I did) justify waking up and reaching for the snack bag and starting the day with chocolate. And people wonder why I go camping...