A tough snowshoe on an exposed mountain side provides us with our most challenging experience of the cold to date, on an adventure that revealed more of snow’s many personalities and how to conquer, even enjoy, this harsh climate.
When we walk out of the relative shelter of the less exposed patches of the mountain it becomes physically challenging to draw breath. The cold, dry air hits the back of your throat, often making you splutter. I pull the neck of my Rab body warmer over my mouth, to allow the air to be sucked through it and provide some moisture.
I also draw my hat closer around my face, it is the warmest one I have, but
it is too big and the cold air creeps in the sides, burning my ears. The cold
air feels like a razor scraping at my exposed cheeks, they sting and I can feel how swollen they are becoming.
Land Acknowledgement
This adventure took place on the traditional territory of the Wet’suwet’en. Wet’suwet’en – meaning ‘People of the Wa Dzun Kwuh River‘ – are made up of five clans. They have a strong and admirable recent history of protecting their land, which they never ceded, through court cases which have inspired many other nations to do the same.
Like the Lheidli T’enneh people, whose unceded ancestral territory we live on in Prince George, the Wetʼsuwetʼen are a branch of the Dakelh people.
“Cumbersome, gigantic tennis rackets”
We were on a mountain side, in a small town four hours drive west from Prince George called Smithers. We had come with our friends Breanne and Simon, to cross-country ski and snowshoe and to have some fun after the disappointment of not being able to spend Christmas in the U.K.
As I dressed that morning ready for temperatures around -30C (colder with wind chill), I thought back to my first hike in snow, just over a year ago. I had not known what to wear, had loved the experience but found it quite cold enough (it was barely in the minuses) and thought that there was loads of snow (the fact that we did not need snowshoes gives that one away!).
I now know what equipment/clothing I need and feel confident taking on new challenges in this cold, harsh northern climate, thanks to the knowledge we have amassed over the last year. But I will not pretend I did not saver the last moments in the warm Air BnB before we went outside.
We loaded the car up with four sets of snowshoes. They look like cumbersome, gigantic tennis rackets in the back of the car; but will allow us to hike over, rather than battle through the snow.
“Part of me longing to be inside”
Hudson Bay Mountain is a popular ski resort, a fact which came in handy at
the end of our snowshoe, when we could bring our fingers back to life by the log burner in the bar.
We left the car at the resort’s upper parking lot and followed the path lined with ski chalets and busy with people darting, arms full of skis,
bags of clothes and boxes of food, between their chalet and car as fast as possible.
As we hiked higher up onto the mountain side, we passed the Prairie T-bar, a few green runs scattered with skiers and some smaller snow-covered cabins.
Around the entrance to the cabins were snow boards and skis standing upright in the snow – a sure sign that the cabin’s occupants are taking a break to warm up. I could not help looking wistfully towards the windows, part of me longing to be inside.
“Resembles sand that has been compacted by a sea breeze”
Once we are off the track and properly on the mountain side – away from
the shelter offered by the trees and cabins – it becomes tougher to do simple things like look up, because the cold air forces your chin into your collar and your eyes down.
But it was rewarding to stop and look at the mountains on the
opposite side of the valley. Although the weather is cloudy and some of the mountains are obscured, a row of snow capped peaks look back at us. It is wonderful to view them from another mountain, rather than from down below where they tower over you, you feel you have earned the right
to enjoy them.
We traverse the southern face, breaking trail and walking in each others
large snowshoe foot prints. When I find myself at the front, I realise I am
walking in snow that is new to me. It is wind swept and resembles sand that has been compacted by a sea breeze.
I have met so many types of snow while living in Northern BC and I have learned how to react to them. I have come to appreciate and get excited by fresh powdery snow, especially on a Friday afternoon, and to look out of the window, recognise wet snow, and greet it with disappointment and disdain.
This firm, packed down, wind blasted snow, which had visible lines where it had been swept by the wind, was new to me. But, as it made for easy hiking, I added it to my mental list of ‘good’ snow types.
“Bringing with them their love of backcountry skiing”
The name ‘Hudson Bay’ will most likely be familiar to you, either as the
name of the gigantic bay that makes the east of Canada look
like someone spilled water all over the map; or as the name of the
historic company which dominated the fur trade throughout British-controlled Canada in the 18th and 19th centuries.
Hudson Bay Company had trading posts dotted across British Columbia which settler and indigenous trappers would take pellets to. Many a land mark, place or even boat, was named after the Hudson Bay Company or because of its proximity to one of their trading posts.
In this case, this 5,413 ft mountain on Wet’suwet’en territory, gained its name from being close to a ranch once owned by the Hudson Bay Company.
During the 1930s, Norwegian and Swedish people began to settle in Smithers, bringing with them their love of backcountry skiing. By the 1950s, people had started to build cabins on Hudson Bay Mountain in order to go ski touring.
The mountain also became more accessible during this time as robe and cable tows were installed and a portable lift from France, a baby teleski that was powered by a Volkswagen engine and an aircraft cable, was added. In 1969, a ski hill was officially established on the mountain.
“Secretly carrying a device for warming us up”
The higher we climbed the more intense the cold became, as we became more exposed. I blew air back into my water pipe to stop water sitting in it, hoping to prevent it from becoming frozen, but it was no use, the droplets which remained in the tube were soon frozen and the bite value was crunchy with ice.
But, miraculously, I was never cold.
One reason for this is the clothing I was wearing, including merino wool thermal base layers and a brand new pair of Sportful Gore Tex cross country skiing pants that I had fallen in love with.
Another reason, is that it was not a particularly windy day and so as long as we ensured no skin was uncovered for too long it was reasonably easy to protect yourself. As you can see from the photos below, the parts of our faces that were impossible to cover soon became very puffy!
Perhaps most important is that we had a fairly fast hiking pace. Simon is the head coach at Otway Nordic Ski Club and Breanne is a former university track athlete who has retained the dedication to running. Jacob, meanwhile, seems able to match anyone’s pace.
In spite of the hour of swimming I had put in during the autumn/fall to prepare for the winter sports season; I cannot pretend to come near to those three. This is not false modesty, after all, Simon used to ‘lead’ for visually impaired Paralympic Nordic Skiers.
But I, arguably, bring something far more important to the team. I am the one who is (once again) secretly carrying a device for warming us up: Fireball, hikers whiskey!
“Ominous pale white patches”
We decided not to try for the very summit, knowing the exposure would be far greater at the peak and that the little light there was, on such a gloomy day, would soon be fading.
A sensible decision, especially in light of the fact that while we were descending Jacob and Breanne both spotted ominous pale white patches on each others faces. Frostnip, an early stage of frostbite.
Before long we were back at the car, admiring frosty beards and applying copious amounts of lip salve!
“Which begs the question why?“
After ditching our snowshoes in the car, we made our way to Whisky Jack’s Lounge, the ski resort’s bar and restaurant; where they, not only had a log burner to defrost our crunchy hats and gloves next to, but also a menu of warm cocktails and a delicious vegan stew.
Whisky Jack’s Lounge also had a spectacular view of the mountain range opposite and it was much easier to see the view, let alone enjoy it, now the cold was not making my eyes water!
Which begs the question why – if you can enjoy the view from a warm ski bar, a distance from your car that can confidently be covered without risk of losing a finger – go snowshoeing on a mountain in -30C at all?!
It is tempting to give the classic Mallory/Hillary answer ‘because it’s there’, but if you are not akin with the joys of pushing yourself mentally and physically in the wilderness, that explanation might feel a little hollow.
In extreme weather conditions, like we had that day, the situation can quickly become dangerous if you get into trouble. This adventure was within our comfort range because of the experience we have and the far greater experience of those we were with – unsurprisingly for a ski coach, Simon’s no stranger to frostbite!
But cold that severe would have been outside of my comfort zone a year and a half ago.
Walking (no pun intended) the line, between comfortable and alarming, continually pushing yourself and changing where that line falls for you, is when you find out what you are capable of.
Knowing that, in the conditions we were in, the difference between safely and danger can be crossed by as little as a twisted ankle, has a similar impact on you as walking a trail with grizzly scat on it. You become more alert to your surroundings and more vigilant of the wellness of you hiking buddies. In short, you become more alive.
. . .
. . .
More stories from cold days and snowshoe adventures…
Snowshoes, Bald Eagles and a Disused Ski Hill: five adventures in Northern British Columbia
A snowy day hiking in the footsteps of First Nation traders and conquering my fear of the cold
. . .
West Country Wandering 
Coooooooooool or shoukd i say bloidy cold. 😁😁😁😂😂😂😂😂👍👍👍👍👍👍👍
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I now feel very cold!
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