A great deal, not an ordeal
Winter ‘camping’ in Gatineau Park
break from a life grown too soft and, paradoxically, too hectic. It’s a visceral reminder of how people lived in the primitive days before Wi-Fi, an unfiltered encounter with the dark, slightly menacing world just outside our bright suburban windows. It can be an adventure in innovative cuisine, a physical test, a chance to bond with those crazy enough to go with you. Suppose I just want to dip a toe into the water. Are there alternatives to a fully supported expedition to the South Pole?
Yes, and no farther away than the Lac Philippe section of Gatineau Park where you can experience the
silence, the stars and the exhilarating isolation of a frosty night outdoors — but within an easy ski of the nearest parking lot. That doesn’t sound very “isolated.” That sounds like camping in the backyard.
Call it a compromise. Cellphone reception is spotty, the closest highway is out of earshot and the only interruption to the night’s silence is crashing branches, or, if you are lucky, the lonely call of a wolf. On the other hand, there is ample firewood, neatly stacked, and convenient outhouses.
But don’t you need a lot of gear — starting with a super-toasty sleeping bag and a heavy tent?
Not always. The park offers a range of camping experiences from luxury to basic. I’ll confess the “basic” option is still in my future: I don’t yet have the skills, or the equipment, for the ultimate encounter. For that, you need, at minimum, an Arctic sleeping bag, a sturdy tent, a sleeping pad thicker than my flimsy summer Therm-aRest, and assorted ice-picks, shovels, pots, pans and water containers. Then a sizable pulk, or sled, to haul everything.
So where did you “camp”?
This year, for the first time, the NCC is renting two “four-season” tents — substantial structures on wooden platforms with room inside for bunk beds, a wood stove, a propane cooktop and fridge, and a breakfast table with chairs for four. They even have a little front porch. Tent? That’s like calling the Taj Mahal a simple burial site.
The tents are really “yurts” of a different shape and even better equipped than some of the NCC’s rental cabins. And, as with the yurts dotted around the park, you can have water delivered ($38 for 18 litres) and even hire an NCC snowmobile to transport your gear ($55).
But you can probably carry your stuff yourself, since you only need a sleeping bag, clothes, a few dishes, candles and food. There are pots and pans inside the “tent” and two cooking options: the wood stove or the propane cooker.
This sounds civilized. I bet they rent quickly.
They do — in fact, they are already fully booked on weekends. Located in the summer camp grounds off trail 50, not far beyond the Taylor Lake turnoff, the “tents” accommodate four and cost $100 a night on weekends and $70 on week nights. They are smaller than nearby yurts and cabins, but just as
comfortable — and only a leisurely four-kilometre ski from P19. All right, but what about hard-core campers? Is there anything for them?
Yes indeed. There are five individual campsites in a semi-open area near the intersection of trail 50 and Taylor Lake road — a clearing across the groomed parkway from
Renaud cabin.
Each campsite can accommodate six visitors in a couple of tents; there is a larger area for group camping, nearby. Any support, or are you on your own on the windswept plain?
There is a fire pit for every site and wood available at the nearby registration building. There are also outhouses. You might also find a quinzhee (evidence of earlier settlement) although they are supposed to be destroyed after use because they collapse over time.
What is a quinzhee?
It’s a snow house (and an aboriginal word), a handy alternative to a winter-worthy tent if you don’t have one, or don’t have the muscle to haul one. But the conditions have to be right. You first make a big snow
pile, let it harden some hours, then tunnel into the middle and dig out a cavern. There should be enough head room to avoid claustrophobia, and a breathing hole. Slide in your sleeping mat, and your bag, and you will be well-insulated from the howling winter winds.
Really?
An adventurous friend built one in her yard for practice and reported that she woke up with her sleeping bag damp from condensation, but otherwise comfortable. And we found an abandoned quinzhee on a recent exploratory outing to Lac Philippe that was roomy, sturdy and sheltered. This sounds like the kind of adventure that would be more fun with a crowd.
Very true. In fact, the NCC prohibits solo camping — probably for good reason. Another advantage to the outdoor campsites: you can probably get one any time — even on weekends; they are rarely sold out. And they only cost $15 per person, per night. (To reserve of camping, go to the NCC website, or visit the visitor’s centre in Chelsea.) You panicked in the MRI machine. Do you really think you could spend a night buried in a mound of snow?
I’ll never find out if I don’t try. But I’ll bring a tent along, too, just in case. March, maybe. It will be warmer then, but still winter. And this time I’ll be camping, not “camping.”