Algonquin Provincial Park

In winter, snowshoes offer a way to enjoy the woods and trails of Algonquin Park.

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The Fen Lake ski trail spins out from under our boards, on a glorious winter morning. The sky is impossibly blue, the early sun sparkling off the fresh snow.

Each stump wears a high white toque. Whipped cream, flung by the wind during last night's snowstorm, coats the trunks of the hardwoods. An avenue of firs, not yet released of their winter weight, modestly spread their fingers to hide the secrets that lay under their skirts. The white spires of the birches are highlighted against the monochromatic tones of winter.

We're both carrying rucksacks, stuffed with comfort and security: sweaters and dry socks, apples and sandwiches, soup in a thermos, fire starter, elastic tape for blisters, a spare ski tip. Not too much weight, to ensure a happy day and a safe return. You're on your own here, and winter nights can go to forty below. It's a comfort to know that there are toilets, and barrels full of essential items, to be found on each of the ski trails.

Cross-hatching the hills and sliding down the slopes, we're having a wonderful time. The snow is very thick and soft, and makes fun out of crash landings. What's happened to the control and good balance of last winter? Clouds roll over, and Robert Frost's "easy wind and downy flake" speed us on our way. Ten minutes later, it's sunny again.

In winter, access is limited to the Highway 60 corridor: gasoline, food, and accommodations are only available outside the Park. Advice and information is to be had daily at the gates, and on weekends at the Visitor Center (which is open daily through Christmas week).

The Mew Lake Campground is open in winter. There is no water, but firewood and electricity are available. There are also eight 'yurts' available for rent here, with furniture and electric heat.

The trail takes us by hidden pools of dark water, which still resist the frost. The woods are silent, save for the occasional chatter of chickadees, and the raucous calls of the jays. Deer tracks lead off into the forest. A flitting shadow makes us look up, to see a patrolling red-tailed hawk, his pinions spread across the sky. Oak leaves, clinging tenaciously, provide splashes of winter color.

A sudden vicious snow squall flings its darts against our faces, making us glad for our tinted goggles as we approach the trailhead. At end of day, the westering sun drops quickly below a lead-grey sky blanket and turns the world to rose madder.