If you're into freezing temperatures, magical tranquility, and starting a fire while everything is encased in a layer of freezing rain; winter camping in Frontenac is the weekend getaway for you!
Appa and his human, Robyn, joined me on this grand experiment of becoming living popsicles. The scenery was breathtaking, but the steep rocky trails made it quite tiring, primarily because I towed a pulk. Pulks are fantastic for moving gear over snow, but their utility is a tad less efficient when meandering up and down steep, winding, narrow trails. I had to deal with countless ordeals of the pulk deciding to go rogue on the side of a cliff or when going over narrow bridges.
The heavy rain from the previous week had left everything covered in a layer of ice, making it nearly impossible to get a fire going. I typically don't have any trouble starting a fire, but on this trip, it was a herculean effort to keep a flame going. We accomplished the feat after hours of digging deep into our pyro skills. Harvesting a metric ton of birch bark and hardwood shavings in total darkness can go a long way, but the superstar was my battery-powered sleeping pad blower, as even the thinnest kindling was stubborn and refused to hold a flame.
Despite temperatures of only -17º celsius, the moisture on our sleeping bags made it feel like we were camping in a deep freeze. Humidity can be a rather mean compatriot, especially when it decides to tango with down sleeping bags. We didn't sleep much because of the chill; too busy counting our toes to ensure we still had all of them. Robyn had to endure a particularily delightful evening trying to convince a cranky pooch to settle down and share a sleeping bag. Meanwhile, my bladder decided that frequent trips to my favorite tree would become a new hobby.
The next day, we packed camp and hiked back to the trailhead. The morning light glistening on the snow-covered trees was magical. The trek back was mostly uneventful other than the splendor, but we were all pretty worn out and eager to make several poor life decisions at the nearest grocery store.
