Algonquin in Winter

Ticking items off my list of things to try: snowshoeing. We strapped respective pairs on our feet for the first time this weekend, and I think I fell in love.

The site of my torrid affair: Algonquin Provincial Park, the crown jewel of Ontario's outdoor attractions. Five of us drove up in one car Friday night, and thanks to rush-hour-with-a- snowstorm-thrown-in- to-boot traffic, we didn't arrive until well after dark. The painfully slow traffic ended up being a good thing though, because it put us in the Algonquin-area countryside in the pitch dark. There was something romantic about driving along a quiet, two-lane highway at 10:30. The car's headlights cast a ghostly glow on the snowbanks and the occasional house flashed past our windows, one lamp lighting the living room so we could peek in as we sped past. Small billboards for canoe outfitters and roadside restaurants popped out of the snowbanks, looking back/ahead to the good times of the high season. Once in awhile a single light, a shed or a barn maybe, shone through a break in the trees that sheltered it from the road. There was an overwhelming sense of a cozy loneliness. I pictured people wrapped up in blankets on their couches, hibernating for the night.

Saturday might go down in my record books as one of those pivotal days. On the surface it was nothing more than fun - a 4-hour snowshoe trip through the Track and Tower trail in the park. In the long-term outlook though, it was the day I finally "got it". I've always looked at snowshoeing as an end in itself. You strap on snowshoes and you walk around because it's neat to have snowshoes on. Yesterday I learned that it's actually the means to an end, and the end is: hiking in the winter. Epiphany! Winter sports! What a fantastic concept! You don't have to batten down the hatches and count the days until spring. Put on a pair of snowshoes and go for a hike in February. If the prospect of a brisk walk isn't enough to inspire you, remember that this is your opportunity to see the old surroundings disguised in a blanket of snow and ice.


People in Ontario can't stop talking about the beauty of Algonquin Park, and I agree with them. Our trip there this past summer was amazing. I've never stopped to wonder how it looks in the winter though, beyond picturing a big "CLOSED FOR THE SEASON" sign over the entrance gate. How could I have almost missed this? The pristine snowdrifts, the pine trees drooping with the weight of snow on their branches, the massive icicle formations hanging over rock cliffs, the absolute stillness of the frozen lakes. Sure it's a little cold, but stick a pair of waterproof pants on your legs and start booking it up the trail; you'll warm up fine.

Additionally, there will be no rain to ruin your camping trip. Snow is winter's precipitation of choice and far from ruining a promising day, snow just adds to the fun. At our trail's famous lookout, the falling snow added a mysterious quality to everything. Distant hills were shrouded in clouds of snowflakes and the lakes and islands directly below us quietly resigned themselves to the increasing weight upon them.

It was cold. It was clean. It was simple and natural - just you and your feet. It snowed. The snow ended and the sky was blue. I felt like Pa Ingalls in a North Face jacket.