British Columbia’s tighter Covid-19 restrictions, which came into place on the 18th November, have stopped people socailising outside of our ‘bubbles’ and travelling outside of our communities. This means no venturing out with the ladies from Pretty Wild Adventure Co. (who I introduced to you guys here) for me and more working from home for Jacob.

A few days before these new rules came in, I tried snow shoeing for the first time, on a evening out to conquer the Shane Lake Loop at Forest for the World, with the PWA Co. After one evening in borrowed snowshoes I was hooked. The new restrictions gave us the perfect excuse to buy some snowshoes of our own and plan some adventures for just the two of us in and around Prince George.

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1. Moonlit snowshoe in Moores Meadow

We had just arrived home from a frustrating expedition (two buses there, one expensive taxi back) to see a car at the other side of the city, which had turned out to be being sold by a less that trust worthy individual, when Jacob suggested we improve our evening by heading to Moores Meadow immediately with our brand new snowshoes.

As soon as we entered the moonlit forest I was glad I’d agreed to this little evening adventure. A slither of a moon hung low in the sky, revealing the outline of the Evergreens as we tested out our new Equipment. The ‘Meadow’ is a long field flanked either side by dense forest and the perfect place for a collection of deep snow to wade through.

As you walk your feet sink into the snow with a satisfying ppppft sound. While you’re not quite walking on water as you may hope with such large feet, it is suddenly possible to make you way through deep snow that would have forced you to quit in just boots. Before we make our way towards a warm house and hot chocolate I can’t resist lying down for a moment in the snow to look at the hundreds of immensely bright stars framed by the two dark rows of trees.

2. Cutting a path on Tabor Mountain

We awoke on the morning of this adventure to the perfect winters day in Northern BC: fresh snow, a blue sky and sunshine. By now we had used our snowshoes on a few occasions and we were ready for a bigger challenge, so we headed out to Tabor Mountain. The trails are really well marked and even have rest huts along the way, so navigation and shelter for sandwich eating was not going to be a problem.

We set out from the Hickory Wing Shelter along a trail which had deep powdery snow perfect for snow shoeing. We quickly arrived at the next shelter and weighed up our options at the handy map. This rest hut was at a fork, we had to choose between the trail to our right ‘Birchleg’ and the one to the left ‘Sawdust’. After we’d taken one or two steps away from the shelter and map, along the ‘Sawdust’ trail, we realised this trail was ‘uncut’. This means that know one else had passed this way that day, so the snow was not packed down at all (the photographs below give you an idea of the difference between a cut and uncut trail). I hadn’t even considered that this could happen. All these trails were covered in weeks worth of snow and there had been a large, fresh dump the day before. So of course, if no one else had chosen ‘Sawdust’ that morning we would have to be the ones to cut the trail all the way to the next shelter.

Within moments of setting off it was clear how much harder this was going to be than all our previous snow shoeing experiences. With each step on the deep, fluffy, untrodden snow my foot sunk in almost to my knee and then, while your foot is in the hole you’ve made (see photo below!), snow falls in on top of your boot.

Heaving your heavy, snow-laden, snowshoe clad foot out of the hole and over the snow as you take another step is exhausting. Thighs and glutes burning we quickly drew on our forgotten road cycling skills: we took turns on the front while the other person rested in the slip stream. Slowly but surely we trudged on like this until we reached the next shelter where we were really happy to cram down peanut butter sandwiches until the cold was getting to our fingers and we had to move on.

But with light fading we had to call it day there. Having to cut the trail had made our progress a lot slower. We turned on our heels and enjoyed the ease of snowshoeing back to the car along the trail we had blazed. We might not have made it to the top of the mountain but we did learn a lot about cutting trails in snow shoes and next time we head out we’ll know to follow behind some one else and let them do the work.

3. Misty afternoon in Moores Meadow

The best thing about living in our part of Prince George, particularity before we had a car to take us on adventures further afield, is being a few minuets walk from Moores Meadow.

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Moores Meadow is an 150 acre forest with a large, flat clearing in the centre which creates a little slice of snowshoe heaven. I’d love it for that reason alone but I also can’t resist imagining the first pioneer families who farmed here, mostly I wonder at how they survived the cold. Charles Moore arrived in Fort George by dogsled and set up a farm in the meadow, that would come to bear his name, in the winter of 1906/7. Later, Mary and Charles Hughes, a Welsh couple who had moved to Canada in 1912, came to Fort George where they had a dairy farm and children in this meadow.

It is late afternoon when we emerge from the trees into the wide open space. I can’t help letting out a low ‘wow’. We have walked here quite a few times before but I have never seen it like it is today: covered in deep snow with the mist resting low in the meadow. We do a big loop testing our snow shoes in deep patches, then trying out walking uphill in among the trees.

When we turn to make our way back down the meadow, towards home, the trees are glowing with the light from the cloud covered sun which is sinking behind them. The moon, a white crescent sits above the snow and the mist and the green tree tops, ready to take over. As we come out of the forest and remove our snowshoes for the five minute walk home, I think that this is the best thing about living in northern BC: being a few minuets walk from sights that spectacular.

4. Eagle encounter on the North Nechako

The rain had been falling ruining the powder and encouraging me to stay inside and bake oranges for the Christmas Tree when I decided enough was enough and I needed to get out. Having already wasted most of the daylight hours we needed a local adventure and the very first hike I did with the PWA Co. sprang to mind. With a steep section at the start, views from above the tree line of Nechako River and an adrenaline rush decent to finish on, I knew Jacob would love it.

We were very glad of our spikes climbing up the steep, slippery hill which is the first section of the short walk. From there you walk along the edge of the cut bank, weaving in between the trees and keeping you wits about you so as not to slip over the edge. All the while you are ascending to a bench at the top which rewards you with a view over the winding river and snow cover forest beyond. The bench is also the point at which you can abruptly end your walk and leave the forest trail by flying down the steep cut bank down to the river below.

Mid laugh at the sight of Jacob gleefully running down the cut bank I heard a screeching. Soft, high pitch and surprisingly melodic. We both stopped and stared at the trees beyond the river where an Bald Eagle was soaring. The screeching had stopped and its gigantic swings were spread out as it weaved between the tree tops.

Moments later another three were in the sky. At first they were just silhouettes but one came closer and then flew right above us, it’s pure white head and tail stark against grey, dusk sky. We were treated to a show of eagle bickering, as two of them began swooping and diving at each other, before they became dots on the horizon above the tree line.

5. Snowshoeing Prince George’s disused ‘100 Steps’ Ski hill

The sign at the bottom informs us that the hill we are about to snowshoe up was once a ski hill know as BC’s Littlest Mountain. The ski hill opened in the 1960s and was a popular spot until a fire at the ski lodge led to the closure of the whole site in 1971. As we set off, I was imaging the 1960s skiers, in woolen jumpers, flying down the steep hill, having paid just $2.50 for the pleasure!

Having my head was full of images of Prince George in the last century was a quite a useful distraction from the steep first section. As you might expect for somewhere that once billed itself as a ‘little mountain’, snowshoeing up it was had me huffing and puffing. But before long we were up the hill and on a level section where we could enter Forest for the World.

Here the trail became much more narrow and on either side of our path were snow covered shrubs, not much taller than us, which hung over the path forming a perfect winter wonderland tunnel for us to make our way through.

Just as I was starting to feel the effect of the hill and the need for a peanut butter sandwich we came to one of FFTW’s large shelters, where we stopped to refuel for the return leg. Lid back on the thermos, we took a different trail back towards the old ski hill. This one led us into a dense section of the forest, weaving along next to a mountain bike trail and crossing back and forth over a small stream.

Emerging back onto the old ski hill we were still high above Prince George. The city laid out before us, buildings just little black dots, breaking up the white. We might not have descended as fast as those skiers a generation ago, but we came down the final part of our trail much faster than we’d ascended, ending an adventure which taught me about a little piece of the history of Prince George and showed off what a variety of different trails you can experience in one day

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This week (second week in December) it was announced that the current restrictions will continue to be in place until at least the 8th January 2021. Needless to say, I’m really glad that we have such beautiful places near to home to enjoy while we are restricted to adventures ‘within our community’.

I was balancing right at the center point of one of the three logs which formed a ‘bridge’ and were our only way of crossing the creek, when one of the other women on the day hike shouted “welcome to Canada”. Holding in the burst of laughter that might just put an end to my trapeze act, I looked up at the snow covered Evergreens which circled the creek and grinned.

Hunched over, I tentatively moved my hands further along one of the logs, finger nails digging into the bark, before sliding my submerged feet along after. A few more slow shuffles like this and I was on dry land. We had used the logs to cross earlier that day, but it was no less nerve-racking the second time.

So, once on dry land and feeling the rush of pleasure that follows fear, I victoriously cracked open the Trench Vodka Seltzer I had saved for this moment.

I had not been quite so confident of enjoying a long hike in the snow that morning. To say I have a fear of the cold is probably not an over exaggeration. My whole life, I had happily avoided being in any deeper snow that the pathetic sprinkling the South of England gets occasionally.

Needless to say, I’ve never been Skiing or Snow Boarding and my idea of a cold day was, until very recently, anything below +12 Degrees Celsius. So when I woke up early on the morning of my first full day hike with the Pretty Wild Adventure Co. to find that largest amount of snow I’ve ever seen had fallen over night, I was a little nervous about whether I’d actually enjoy a full day hiking in the Canadian cold.

I should not have been. The Pretty Wild Adventure Co is all about taking women on outdoor adventures in a relaxed and genuinely friendly atmosphere. The company is run by two women whose positive, bubbly personalities are infectious. There is no ‘I’m the best backwoods women’ competitiveness, no-cliques and no judgement about what you may find challenging.

There’s just outdoor adventures, good fun and a bag full of beverages from Trench (a local Brewery and Distillery) to dig into on every hike. Oh and to top it all there’s a Swag Bag of goodies from local businesses to be won by one adventurer each hike.

On the trail, our footprints are the first to break the snow. Perhaps because it’s a week day, we haven’t been beaten to it by other hikers. In fact, we don’t see another soul all day.

The overhanging branches frame a long, narrow path but I am careful to avoid brushing them as I go by, not wanting to upset the snow which is perfectly balanced on top of each twig and end up with a deposit of sludge down the back of my neck. Many of these trees are barren, but the green of the pine’s needles is vivid against the snow. It weights down the branches, making them point to the ground and so the whole tree looks to be drooping under the snow’s weight.

At times the trail widens as the Evergreens retreat from the path revealing a white line cutting into the distance and letting more in of the cloudy sky. It is mostly overcast but there are moments when the sun comes through a patch in the clouds, the rays are splintered by the trees and it falls on the trail making the snow sparkle.

As we walk along I make the work easier by placing each foot where one of my adventure companions had already trodden down the snow for me. But we are all walking in the footsteps of the Lheidli T’enneh First Nation people who called this path Lhdesti, and used it to connect them to the many waterways which were integral to their way of life. L

hdesti, meaning ‘the shortcut’, is a fitting name as this trail is the shortest route between the waterways which flow to the Pacific Ocean and those which lead to the Arctic Ocean.

But google ‘Lhdesti’ and you’ll notice this trail does not bear that name, instead it’s called Giscome Portage. Named for one of the first two white men who – led by a indigenous guide – walked this trail while travelling North of Fort George to prospect for gold and described it in a subsequent news article.

Just at the point when we found our stride, our path opened onto a clearing with a small creek and the sorry remains of a washed out bridge. For a moment it appeared we had no way of crossing the creek until we found a cluster of three tree trunks which were laying across the water inviting us to cross. Each log was covered in layer of melting snow and bowing in the middle so that they dipped into the water. I felt that delightful rush of fear and excitement.

Part of me was secretly delighted that we were faced with this unexpected challenge. Meanwhile the rest of me was looking at the bitter cold brown water wishing the bridge was in place. As I followed the first person across, using both hands and feet, I wondered if this is why we all get a drink from Trench Brewery: to act as a ballast in our bags for such crossings (or perhaps to warm us up after we go in!).

Once safely across, I was chuffed to have overcome a real and unexpected problem in the Canadian wilderness. I checked my smugness when I remembered I would have to repeat the feat on our way back.

For the most part the dense forest beyond is silent and still. But my breath and the crackles and crunches of snow being compacted are constant. Later in the day we hear the occasional loud thud as the afternoon sun melts the snow and it drops from branches.

There are some places where the snow deceives you, it covers the squelchy mud beneath. As my boot goes in the mud and snow oozes around my laces and I can feel the suction as I step out. I discover the weird pleasure of disturbing pristine, flat white snow with a boot print and the joy of kicking it up so it falls like icing sugar over a cake.

As we reach the end of the trail each little detail I’ve learned about walking in the snow, overcoming crossing a creek with no bridge and the pleasure of chatting with adventurous women combines with the tiredness from a days exercise to create an immense feeling of satisfaction.

But there is more than that, somewhere along this trail I have overcome my fear of the cold. Lhdesti was my shortcut to understanding snow and now I am ready for everything a Canadian winter has to offer.

But as the first thing on offer, as we drive back towards Prince George, was to meet some ‘real Canadians’ (one of the group leader’s family) and ‘try a Caesar’ (a classic Canadian cocktail) I’m more than happy to head into the warm for now.

Winter has arrived very suddenly here in Prince George. Over the past couple of days the fact that it’s been an unusually abrupt end to Fall has been confirmed by hearing disgruntled locals despair over ‘still having their summers on’. Meaning that they have been caught out by the early snow fall and had not changed yet their summer car tires for their winter ones.

I was not prepared for Fall to end over night when we woke up to a huge snow dump last Friday (16th October). Now, I’m suddenly realising what we’ve lost – see photographs – and starting to understand why people really go in for celebrating Fall here. Not only do people come together for Canadian Thanks Giving, traditionally a moment of showing gratitude for the abundant harvest. A tradition which has long since got into decline in England. They also decorate their front doors with Fall Wreaths, the city hosted a Downtown ‘Fallfest’ and quite frankly you can’t move for Pumpkin Spiced Lattes.

Now the snow is here I’m starting to see why they celebrate the turn of this season with so much more vigor than we do in Europe. Tempting as it is to assume that it’s just another old tradition that’s been commercialised, I think there is more to it than that. Firstly, Fall is a far more distinct season here than it is in the part of Europe I’m from. Secondly, winter here is hard, it can come suddenly and it lasts a long time.

Winter is hard in a way that it hasn’t been for a hundred or so years in England (which would perhaps also explain why the tradition of celebrating the harvest died out). It can also arrive suddenly (at least it has this year!). In southern England it’s often the case that you slip from an over cast and rainy end of Summer to an over cast and rainy Winter. Not so here. The differences between seasons are stark. A few weeks ago we had temperatures you could sunbath in, now I’m shivering.

Those last warm days and longer evenings. A wander through a path lined with trees that are shedding a waterfall of vibrant leaves down upon you. Pulling up the final veggies before saying goodbye to the sight of earth and grass for months. These are things to be savoured and celebrated. When you are transitioning into a completely different way of life (as they still do here in Prince George at the end of Fall) you can see why they stop, pop a wreath on the door and show appreciation for the harvest which will see them threw a long, cold winter.

Right I’m off to get a yet another Pumpkin Spiced Latte before they replace it with the Christmas flavors. Eggnog? Belgh.