“What time do you think it is? Feels like 10 pm.”
I’m basing my time-of-day assumptions on the encroaching wall of darkness pushing against the rays of light from our camp fire, squeezing our living space into a meagre 20 ft in any direction. Plus it’s been a long day. A mid-day departure from Toronto, a four-hour drive north, back and forth to the car shuttling gear, wood chopping, fire building, food prepping and finally—ahhhhh—time to relax. Our brains refocus from work mode to the "be here now" mode. Sounds are reduced to the swoosh of wind high in the trees and the crackle of the fire, which is now struggling against darkness and dropping temperatures.
“What time do you think it is? It must be pushing 10.”
The screen on the phone flickers with light: 7 pm. Damn… We’re laughing on the outside, but inside, the idea of 12 hours of impending darkness stirs up some anxiety. "Sleep as long as you like" might sound like a wonderful problem to have but, since I’m used to getting about half of that, I worry I won’t have what it takes to sleep the night away. And then it happens—my body and mind embraces the darkness and silence, taking in the best sleep I’ve enjoyed in a long time.
What’s that? Rain? We wake to a pitter-patter on the roof. I push open the door—it’s snowing. Six centimetres of the white stuff has already coated the deck, but with temperatures hovering around zero, it’s more ice than flake.
Killarney Provincial Park in the winter, and the yurt experience, has been on my adventure to-do list for a long time. After years of trying to get it organized, finally all the cards fell into place—availability of time and yurt, plus a break in my son’s high school exam scheduling, made a father and son experience possible.
Our main objective is to snowshoe the Granite Ridge Trail for a view of the famed La Cloche Mountains, but with the low hanging clouds and no views to be had, some plan adjustments are in order—a bit of XC to start the day. We swing by the office, finish up the registration process, then trade in the skis for snow shoes. With winter being a no-show back home, the Killarney winter wonderland sure is a treat. And to have the whole place practically to ourselves, amazing. After refuelling the body with a quick lunch, it’s back to the hills, this time with toboggans in tow. By the end of the day we stake our spots by the fire and watch the night close in. Long night’s sleep—no problem.
Morning number two: the pitter-patter on the roof is replaced by loud snap, crackle and pops in the forest. I push open the door just to be slapped in the face by a blast of cold air that makes the inside of my nostrils ache. This morning’s temperature is -19C, and the serenade of loud pops is courtesy of trees and the yurt’s structure adjusting to the bitter cold. On the plus side, the sky is blue and the sun is shining.
We need to be on the road by noon, so no time to dilly-dally. We click into our skis and push off along the Freehand Trail. With the track freshly set the first tracks are all ours—not really a choice since we’re the only ones here. Then it’s back to camp to load the toboggans and head for the car. Just like that, the winter yurt in Killarney adventure is in the bag. The winter landscape, the solitude, ski, snowshoe, toboggan, evenings by the camp fire and a chance to share it all with my son—as the saying goes, priceless.
