Snow Days

I’m back from four days in the tundra with a large school group of 11 year-olds. For those of you with an interest in geography, the Canadian Arctic begins just 89 km north of Toronto near the Mono Cliffs: situated on Bruce Trail, which runs from the Niagara Escarpment* to Tobermory, the Mono Cliffs are the highest elevation point in Ontario, where you can see the CN Tower in the distance on a clear day. I didn't verify this fact during our winter trip because frankly, with day time highs of -27 C and wind chills of -33 C, my glasses spent the better part of their outside time fogged up above my wrapped cheeks and mouth.

*  (from the Italian scarpa, which I googled during the indoor portion of a geology lesson before my cell phone went from 75% to 8% battery within minutes outside and froze to death)

I’m at once a city mouse and a lover of the scorching, humid weather southern Ontario enjoys in the middle of a typical summer, and so this week was a challenge on many levels. Most people do not appreciate how much outright lying and acting is involved in maintaining a happy group of students in the course of giving them a proper education. “Oh, no, dear, it’s absolutely not too cold to be going outside today. We just need to get properly bundled up and we’ll be completely fine!” “The sun is shining, and it will help keep us warm.” “Just a few more minutes out here and we will be back inside for lunch.” And so it goes, one cheerleading fib after another, delivered with a reassuring smile to encourage your young charges not to give up walking in the foot-deep snow as you curse your own lack of judgement for forgetting to put your tights under your long johns, which are under your ill-chosen jeans and all-too-thin plastic rain pants that work just fine from the porch to your car in Toronto. Forget the Oscars; “best performance by an actor in a leading role” belongs to every teacher, every day.

So how did the city mouse fare in the country? For starters, I learned a few handy winter survival tips: there is no substitute for wool socks, no matter how many layers of cotton or synthetic ones you pile on before putting on your boots. I can also now add “warming the feet of students under my armpits in the middle of the forest” to my impressive list of teaching credentials. I am fairly confident that I could build a reasonable quinzee for temporary shelter if I were ever caught outside in the middle of nowhere in January with a dead cell phone (I refer you back to the battery freeze mentioned earlier). If nothing else, my awe and admiration for Canada’s First Nations and early settlers grows with every visit out here: it takes huge courage to resist the urge to just pack up and move to Florida at this time of year, and I respect those who came before us and stuck around in these harsh elements and built this country. Personally, I would have begged my ancestors to return to France so I could spend the winters on the Riviera.

The night sky in the country is a spectacular site to behold: two evenings in, it was clear and dark, and there, just beyond the Orion constellation, was my favourite cluster of stars—the Pleiades. In Toronto, there are barely three or four sisters visible but out here, all seven of them said hello. It was magical, and reminded me of the summer of the great Ontario blackout in 2003, when the electrical grid bathed my urban neighbourhood in darkness and taking my old dog Sheba out for her last walk gave me the chance to see the evening sky as nature intended.

We always talk to students about stepping out of their comfort zones to experience new things and grow, and it’s not a bad rule for us older types either. In the spirit of doing just that, I volunteered to accompany a group on a snow-shoeing expedition. Nervousness about injuries (hip fractures and shoulder tears are surely not any more fun the second time around) were quickly replaced with the delight of making fresh tracks in the deep snow: I fell twice, but recovered each time with no damage to anything more serious than my athletic pride, and thoroughly enjoyed the 45-minute outing. On the last night here, I once again shook off the fear of the unknown and took myself out with a small group on an evening hike through the woods: my night vision is dubious at best, and I felt great trepidation at going on an expedition in near darkness. However, I discovered that a good foot shuffle and grandmotherly pacing did much to keep me stable. I stumbled a few times but recovered and pressed on for a good hour without falling. Score another one for fearlessness, although the Ibuprofen gel should get an honourable mention for saving me the following morning from the aches and pain that came with the slow, often clumsy stepping style.

The Canadian mantra is that if you’re dressed for the weather, winter is a lion that can be tamed; as horrific as all my mismatched layers might have looked had I come upon Anna Wintour on the trail, I did embrace the outdoors while communing with nature. That said, once I was safely back inside the confines of the dormitory and the students were tucked in bed for the night, I reached for the eucalyptus oils and finished each day with my favourite routine: the steaming bubble bath.