Darren: “Let’s try something new that we haven’t tried before”.  Me: “OK.” Because fat tire biking and running on snow is practically old hat now. Please don’t suggest skiing; please don’t suggest skiing.  Darren: “Snowmobiling sounds like a lot of fun. Let’s go find some deep powder in the wilderness and rrrrip it up!”  Me: “Cool!”

We were in a group of 8 snowmobiles plus a guide, with a pretty even split between doubles and single riders. I’d opted to sit behind Darren on our 550cc power horse, capable of 65mph. Kitted up in more layers than you can imagine, I was actually pretty toasty throughout, even as we picked up the pace. As for the seat – oh the seat! In stark contrast to the fat tire bike seat and with my tush still feeling delicate, this seat was squishy, it was bouncy, and it was large enough for both cheeks to nestle comfortably. Not to mention heated. Yes, one happy chick.

Some riders seemed intent on providing entertainment for the rest of the group. Like upending the snowmobile and ploughing into a fence. Like becoming airborne and ending up in a tree. Like taking all your clothes off and zipping around on the snowmobile in your bikini. I kid you not.  

We were about as far into the wilderness as we were going, in an expansive snow ‘bowl’ surrounded on three sides by high ridges, with the fourth ‘side’ looking out onto amazing mountain views. At which point, we were able to let rip and do our own thing. Our idea of doing our own thing was a few laps on the snowmobile, zipping up and down and thoroughly having fun. One of our fellow riders idea of doing her own thing was getting her kit off. Even the guide had never seen anything like it, I think it made his day.

Little did our guide know that his day was about to take a turn for the worse. When left to our own devices, he’d pointed at a particularly steep slope and warned us to not to attempt it, as our machines didn’t have enough power to get up it. Everyone dutifully stayed away – no incidents there. You might think then – that someone could make the logical leap that if a particular slope was too steep, then any other steeper or higher slope would also be a no go. Erm, no. At which point our three hour snowmobile trip turned into a four hour one, while we watched the guide frantically digging out the snowmobile from handlebar deep snow, with the rest of the group unable to assist due to the precipitous location our team member had chosen to face plant.

All that remained was the double quick journey back to try to make up some of the lost time. Which didn’t really succeed due to losing some people in a tree, more digging out of snowmobiles and more face plants in the snow.

 All credit to Darren though, as we remained upright throughout and made it back in one piece.

One of the best reasons to camp in a yurt in the middle of nowhereness is that you can head off on your snowshoes into even more remote nowhereness. We didn’t have much of a plan other than to head off up the valley, breaking trail through the deep snow. It wasn’t long before we picked up fresh deep distinctive tracks, which could only have been made by a moose. Mission set: track the moose, find the moose, get photo of said moose. (Spoiler alert… No moose sighting. No moose photo.)

I think the moose could have benefitted from a pair of snowshoes actually, as he didn’t always take the optimal route, and he must have been up to his knees in snow at times. It wasn’t long before he was joined by a second set of prints. Paw prints. Maybe a bobcat, maybe a mountain lion. Both sets of tracks closely followed each other for a good few miles up the valley. A sure fire game of cat and moose 😉 Second spoiler alert… no lion sighting either.
So distinctly low on animal sightings. But right up there in terms of wilderness snowshoe hikes. Here’s some photos from our day.

Looking up at the trailhead to set off for our snowshoe hike, we were starting to think we’d brought a few too many snowshoes. Some snow on what looked like distant peaks, but not a lot going on where we were.

Yet just around the corner, within a few hundred yards of the trailhead, there was snow underfoot and all around. As it was quite well trodden, the snowshoes remained attached to the back of our rucksacks – which I might add were a bit on the heavy side, containing enough food and drink for 2 nights. And as eating and drinking are some of our favorite things to do, we didn’t exactly pack light. Picture one of those pack mules that trudge to remote places in the mountains, looking like they have the weight of the world on their back. That was me.  

So slow going for the four miles up to the yurt, I’d say snail’s pace – or maybe the pace of a snail on his holidays, chilling out and enjoying the view. Worth it though, when we got to our very own home from home, and were able to enjoy basking in the afternoon sun, sipping a well earned beer. An Avery Maharaja IPA no less.

The first job (or should I say Darren’s first job!) was to light the wood burning stove. Plenty of firewood available and not one, not two, but three axes. Followed by snow collecting to melt for drinkwater, for cooking and washing.
The wood burning stove worked a treat at heating up the yurt. It had a cosy feel to it, despite being on the large side, sleeping up to 12 people. Enough room for the two of us to swing a cat. Or enough room to play table tennis.

The highlight of the food items we brought with us would have to be our cheese fondue. Working from a theory of maximum calories to weight ratio, we brought gruyere, swiss cheese, garlic, white wine and seasoning, and threw it all in a pot. Served with baby new potatoes and pitta bread for dunking. I think there may have been a few comments on texture issues had this been served in a finer establishment. But to us, it hit the spot.