Bon Jour! Comprenez-vous Anglais? Thank goodness, because that is the extent of my French besides “fromage” and “la bière s’il vous plait”. While I always plan to learn at least basic conversational French before making a trip north of the border, I typically get distracted with trip plans instead. There was no difference while planning my trip to the Gaspé Peninsula of Quebec in February of 2011. This would be my 3rd trip to the Chic-Choc mountains to partake of some of the best backcountry ski terrain outside of the White Mountains.

The summits of the Chic-Chocs may be flat, but the slopes that lead up to them aren’t. (Brett Lund photo)

This trip would be different from past trips. I wanted to venture deeper into the Parc de la Gaspésie to explore some terrain farther away from the better traveled roadside attractions I had skied previously. Secondly, I was going to take this trip alone versus with a backcountry ski partner. Little did I know that David, our associate editor would be backcountry skiing and snowshoeing in the Gaspésie the following weekend, though he had much swankier plans (is that a real word? I’m too cheap to know . . .) The Gaspésie and the Chic-Choc mountain range lie near the tip of the Gaspé penninsula, which is the thumb shaped peninsula that sits directly below the mouth of the St. Lawrence River. These are the northernmost mountains of the Appalachian range, and unlike the Appalachians of New England, they have expansive plateaus with a lot of terrain above tree line. The proximity of this highland land mass to the waters of the Saint Lawrence, and, to its south, the Baie-des-Chaleurs mean that the Chic-Chocs get copious amounts of snow. The northern latitude ensures that this snow stays consistent and bountiful. Each time I travel to the Chic-Chocs I am happy with the snow cover, even when New England is starved for snow. Especially when New England is starved for snow!

To plan my trip I searched the SEPAQ website (the Quebec Park system). This is really a wonderful website with informational links to all of Quebec’s parks and their amenities. One of these days I may even be tempted to travel to another part of Quebec but for now I still have too much to explore in the Gaspésie. Initially I focused on 2 possible destinations to ski within the Park and adjacent nature reserve. One of the destinations was Mont Logan, which is in the westernmost portion of the park. Getting there would mean a mandatory 5 day loop, with 2 days at a hut near Logan. Mont Logan would be the best opportunity to make some fun and maybe steep descents, and it looked spectacular.  However, there were also rumors of avalanche risk at that point…hmmm.

The other option was an area called  ”Mines Madeleine”, which was highly recommended by backcountry skiers as an excellent destination with a good variety of terrain. According to all information, there was no lack of steep or tree skiing opportunities in this area as well. Due to the level of uncertainty around the Logan tour, and the need to spend 2 days touring to get to good vertical terrain, I opted for Mines Madeleine. I wanted to get to Logan, but I also did not want to trek into the woods for 3 days only to have avalanche hazard keep me from skiing. I love to tour, and there is plenty of touring to be had in the Gaspé, but I really like to go downhill. I had planned to do a couple nights in the park system huts, and a couple of nights tenting. This would allow me some flexibility in traveling, but would also help to keep costs down.

My home for the first night, a sturdy 3-person winter tent from LL Bean. It offered plenty of protection from the weather, but i was worried about a moose stepping on it. (Brett Lund photo)

I booked 2 nights at the Mines Madeleine hut, and planned to camp en route to the hut on the first night I arrived in the park. The drive to the Gaspé is a long one, fully 12 hours from the Concord, NH area. Maine can seem to go on forever, but at the same time this is a lovely drive, especially when you get to Quebec. You could go straight north and stop in Quebec City and out from there. (see the “swanky” article previously mentioned), but I prefer to drive through Maine, then short cut across New Brunswick to the beginning of the Gaspé peninsula. The drive along the Baie-des-Chaleurs is beautiful, with lovely coastal towns. After an hour or so of coastal  driving a left turn brings you north toward the Parc de la Gaspésie. Even in the dark pulling into the Chic-Choc mountain range is impressive. The snow is always piled high and the trees are caked with it like giant popsicles.

I arrived at the Parc Headquarters at 8:30 pm on Sunday, and immediately inquired about potential campsites or shelters along the way to the Mines Madeleine. Unfortunately and unbeknownst to me the Parc has very strict rules about camping outside of designated areas, and in winter the only tenting allowed is a half mile from the Park Headquarters. I leased a tentsite for the clear and starry night, found a nice site that had been packed down a bit. There, I put down my tarp, and set up the winter tent I had been asked to review. The LL Bean Backcountry Dome 3 was easy to set up and very roomy for one person (yes, we’ve had people take it out with 2 people and been happy with it, as well). After getting myself situated, I had to make one more quick run to the car for my toothbrush. As I rounded the corner of the tentsite trail, two large forms came walking out of the woods, not very gracefully either. Two huge moose, who, thankfully, were afraid of my headlamp. They wandered across the trail and back into the shoulder-deep snow and through the woods. I was hoping that they wouldn’t stumble through my tentsite during the night, or decide that nylon tasted good.

My House! Comfortable, and no moose came calling. (Brett Lund photo)

The following morning when I woke and began to pack, I noticed that these same two moose were in a nearby campsite. I have been around moose many times, including when they ambled through my campsite a few feet from my tent at 2 in the morning near Mount Carrigan in the Whites. Despite many pictures from previous encounters I felt the need to try to”sneak up” on them to take a picture of the large female moose and her yearling munching on the vegetation near the edge of the campsite. Just as I rounded the corner to snap a picture, the young moose, who was broadside to me, wheeled and started running toward me. Now, moose are big and look slow, but they can get moving quickly. I think Carl Lewis would have been impressed with my aceleration. Thankfully the yearling stopped, but I am sure that he had a good laugh with his moose friends about the old guy sprinting down the trail.

I had a long slog out to Mines Madeleine and wanted to get an early start. At  Park Headquarters, I checked in quickly with the front desk and was advised that I should indeed get started as my trek would be long and uphill. I had borrowed a Nordic Cab pulk from our Executive Editor, planned to load my backpack and other necessities into the pulk and tow it to the hut. A “pulk” is essentially a trailer for humans. It attaches with a waist belt, and two slender poles back to a sled. I would be traveling on Telemark gear with skins.

The long trek to Mines Madeleine started the real adventure. (Brett Lund photo)

The track to Mines Madeleine is basically a park road that is not plowed in the winter. The park services shuttle gear to the hut via snowmobile, and some group outings on snowshoes are brought out the 12 miles for better views and solitude. The day was beautiful and while it was cold (around 20) I quickly began to warm under the bright blue skies.

The accursed Pulk! It enticed me to take more gear than I really needed and slowed me down too much. (Brett Lund photo)

The grade was a fairly steady climb all the way to Mines Madeline, with a few short downhills. While the pulk was easy early, the longer I trekked, the more tired and frustrated I became. I found myself working much too hard to tow the pulk and wishing I had just stuck to my 5000 cubic inch backpack. Whenever you have more room to bring gear you will fill it, usually with crap you really don’t need. Those “extras” in the pulk were killing me by late afternoon. For the last mile of the slog a snow squall kicked up, and I wound up getting to the hut about an hour before dusk, frustrated and exhausted.

The Mines Madeleine hut was a welcome site after a long day. Warmth awaited inside! (Brett Lund photo)

The Mines Madeleine hut is an old mining crew bunkhouse, and was well equipped with a woodstove, running water, and a bathroom. Upstairs were beds for 14 or so people in a relatively open space, divided by half walls. It is very inexpensive to stay, a little more than 20 dollars per night. I was there alone for about an hour and took a nap until awakened by a young couple from Montreal who were touring from another nearby hut (the Gaspésie has many backcountry huts that can be rented and toured on cross country skis). They would be my only company this evening.

Getting ready to return to the hut.

Though it was dark, I wanted to venture further up the trail to get a view of my surroundings. There was still a bit of twilight lingering, and though the snow was still blowing I put on my head lamp and skis and headed uphill. The service road runs to the top of Petit Mont Sainte Anne,and I went about half way up before turning back to the lodge. I stripped off my skins and had a fun solo run in the dark back to the hut by the light of my headlamp. The trail was smooth and about 15 feet wide, and I could see the distant glimmer of the lights in the hut as a reference. Otherwise I was alone in a sea of blowing snow. It was simply spectacular. I returned to the hut, prepared dinner and chatted a bit with the couple before retiring for a long and welcome sleep.

The next morning I woke early to a partly cloudy day with blowing and drifting snow. After breakfast I said my goodbyes to the young couple and set out for the summit, packing lunch and planning to explore. My plan was to summit, then continue across the plateau to Mont Comte and Mont Jacques Cartier to see if I could find some skiable terrain a bit farther away. I had read on many web blogs that Mines Madeleine apparently had a lot of terrain right outside the hut door, but due to the blowing snow I couldn’t see it. I wanted to find somewhere that was more wind protected.

Halfway up the trail, a pause for a beautiful view of what I hoped to ski. (Brett Lund photo)

This plan would require about 4-5 miles (one way) of travel and route finding across the plateau. As I climbed toward Petit Saint Anne the new snow hung precariously on steep slopes above me.  I stayed on the road to minimize my exposure, and felt generally safe because there were many trees anchoring the new snow. Once I reached the top I was well above treeline and I knew right away that summit travel would be difficult and my plan would likely have to change. I was blown over several times by 80-90k gusts and had a very difficult time seeing my hand in front of my face. I pressed on for about 3/4 of a mile before I realized that route finding was simply too risky in these conditions, especially alone in unfamiliar terrain. It was cold, and the wind chill was substantial.

Caribou tracks! I knew they were close, but they can hide and I never saw the animals! (Brett Lund photo)

I paused by some caribou tracks (the Gaspésie is home to the southern-most herd of caribou in North America). They were fresh and the animal was likely close by watching me, though I could not see it. She knew where she was going. I didn’t. I returned to the summit trail, stripped off my skins and began the long winding decent to the hut. I didn’t realize how cold I had become on the summit, so I was glad to return to the warmth of the hut. The couple had left, but two Parc Snow Rangers were inside warming by the woodstove. They were evaluating the avalanche hazards in the area following the new snow. We discussed conditions for the day, and all agreed that, with the blowing snow, the local bowls would be unstable and dangerous. Not that we could even see them anyway! I asked if they could recommend some good low angle tree skiing close by, and they directed me back down the trail to a side road used by SkiChicChocs, a local cat skiing operation.

A break from the wind! The area around the snowcat operation was choked with snow! (Brett Lund photo)

About  kilometer down the road, I found a turn for the snowcat operation. Another kilometer or so through the woods brought me to a snow covered snowcat, at the bottom of what appeared to be a narrow road going up. This road actually led up the other side of Petit St Anne from where I had been in the morning. It was much more sheltered in the trees than near the hut, and I was able to gain quite a bit of vertical in short order. The trees were loaded with snow, and I could see steep chutes through the trees to my left, down into a drainage. While it looked appealing, I didn’t want to ski steep trees while alone, especially with no one at the hut or within many miles, so I stuck to the road and safety.

It was a nice pitch down through shin deep powder, and where I could get enough speed up I ventured through the trees on the edge of the trail. I took 3 loops before my weary legs told me to wrap it up. I put on my skins for the climb back to Mines Madeleine.

When I reached the hut a friendly and athletic group of backcountry tourers from New Brunswick had just arrived. They traveled in from a nearby hut, and had an adventureful ski on the way. Many falls and a lot of laughing. Skiing on cross country gear, and carrying fairly large packs, they took a beating but had a blast. They showed me many pictures of their faceplants. We chatted into the evening over wine and dinner. They were well prepared and had a snowmobile deliver a “restocking” of wine and a birthday cake for one of their party. What a wonderful way to spend a birthday!!

A ridge above Mines Madeleine, deep snow everywhere! (Brett Lund photo)

I planned to leave Mines Madeleine early the next day if the weather had not changed. If the weather was better and the snow had stabilized, I would take another trip up Petit St. Anne for some touring and descents. I slept hard that night, and woke before the sun. The wind of the past two days had abated, and I dressed quickly, made some tea and oatmeal, packed my bag and went out the door just as the sun began to crest the hills. For the first time in 36 hours I could see the terrain around the hut, and it was spectacular. The ski opportunities were limitless, enough for many days of fun, but  I had to leave that day. Grabbing my skis and backpack I made for the summit to get in as much skiing as possible while I could.

A path through the trees. Bonjour soft beautiful snow! Pure bliss! (Brett Lund photo)

Checking for snow stability.The recent wind loading left several hard slab layers that made skiing this angle unsafe. (Brett Lund photo)

It was a sunny morning, with bluebird skies, and I knew that I wanted to get some skiing in before I left. I assessed the “tube” which is the most obvious line off the hut side of Petit St. Anne, and after digging a hasty snowpit found a weak snow slab that made this aspect (the direction the slope faces) too scary, so I opted for a lower angle and slightly different direction off the summit which had softer snow, and finished through some nice snowladen trees.

While I was disappointed not to be skiing the bowls and gullies, this was the safer choice and still spectacular skiing. After a few laps, and one run down the shoulder of Petit St. Anne I realized that I needed to pack up and start my trek. Around 11:30 I descended the trail I had taken to the summit, and ducked through a short stand of pine trees to get my last fix before I needed to grab my gear, load the pulk and start the long trek out.

The shoulder of Petit St. Anne

I wanted one more night at the tentsite, and a day skiing Champs de Mars, before heading back to New Hampshire. Headed out on the long push back to the car, I was hoping that the pulk woud be easier to manage going mostly downhill. Much to my chagrin, and largely due to the new snow, the pulk acted like an anchor all the way back, so no rest for the weary.

Five hours later, I made it back to the car, and drove back to the campground to pitch the tent. I did not see my moose friends that night, but had more time to cook a proper dinner. I also had more time to evaluate the 3 man LL Bean tent, which functioned very well. It assembled easily for a large tent, and ventilated well during the night, keeping me comfy and dry, and the design is bombproof.   That’s of real importance in a multi-night trip in an area like the Gaspésie, where heavy snows can fall at any time. As a bonus for cheapskates like me, it’s also one of the most affordable 4-season tents out there; the tradeoff being that it’s somewhat heavier than the higher end versions. The following morning I made breakfast, packed my car and drove a short distance  to one of the easy-to-reach and very rewarding roadside backcountry skis.

Champs de Mars at its best! (Brett Lund photo)

There are several daytreks for backcountry skiing just down the road from Parc headquarters…Mt Hogsback, Champs de Mars, Mont Blanche La Montagne and a slightly longer trek to Mont Albert. Within the Parc, skiing is limited to particular zones, primarily due to the caribou herd preservation. Champs de Mars and Hogsback are the easiest to get to in a short period. For a longer day trek, the runs on Mont Albert are great fun, but I didn’t have time. At Champs de Mars, I quickly set skins to skis and began the 2 kilometer trek up a winding trail to the summit.

About two thirds of the way up, a cleared birch glade seduced me, and I took a nice run about halfway back down the mountain. Then I skinned up again and continued to the top. At the summit I took in the beautiful views; as the cloud cover lifted I could see Blanche le Montagne and other peaks in the distance. I set off down the center snowfield, and had knee deep turns all the way to the bottom. It was too good, so I skinned up one more time and this time went as far right as I could, weaving through patchy trees and tops of scrub pine. Two top to bottom runs on stable and soft snow with the mountain to myself….could not have been more perfect.

Hard not to get excited as you take off the skins and prepare to ski all this untouched powder all by yourself. (Brett Lund photo)

It was approaching noon and  knew I had a long drive ahead of me. I took a cut-through trail to the summit trail, then skied part of the birch glade one more time, finishing through some narrow pines and chutes at the bottom.

What a great way to end the trip! As I was loading into my car and getting ready to leave the lot a large party arrived, and we exchanged knowing smiles and a nod that said it all. “Was it good?” “Oh Yeah, its good…go get it!!!”  My Gaspé adventure was finished, theirs about to begin.  How about YOURS?

In the Gaspesie, when they say "snow", think "winter wonderland"...we aren't talking normal Eastern snow here! We traveled up to find out if there was something beyond snowmobiling there...and found more than we bargained for.(David Shedd photo)

Stretching northeast from the northern tip of Maine, along the south shore of  the St. Lawrence River, the Gaspésie (or Gaspé Peninsula, as it is often called) is Quebec’s summer playground. With over 500 miles of coastline, it’s a natural for Québécois trying to escape the heat. Beyond that, however, the Gaspésie is home to some of the world’s most famous salmon rivers, drawing fanatic anglers from around the world. The International Appalachian Trail brings hikers through the interior to Cap Gaspé, the end of the mainland trail. All in all, it has a thriving, busy, bustling summer economy for such a remote area.

But winter…well, that’s a different story. Snowmobilers are the predominant tourists, drawn by over 1000 miles of maintained trails and the regular lake-effect snow caused by having water on three sides of the peninsula. Doesn’t that seem like a total waste of snow to you, particularly in an area filled with mountains? It certainly did to us. Even though there are no “major” ski mountains on the Gaspesie, there must be something for us non-motorized winter enthusiasts, right? Time for a road trip…and what better time to do it than February, when the snow is deep and the days are getting longer, which means more skiing time!

If you are heading into the Gaspé by all means plan a stop at Quebec City. It’s  hard to justify going all the way up there without enjoying all that marvelous city has to offer. Lodging can be had at relatively modest cost outside the city center, but if you’re going to splurge there are a couple of great options, including the historic Château Frontenac. Owned by the Fairmont hotel chain, it’s been upgraded but not stripped of charm; how many hotels do you know of that have a four-legged official greeter? Santol is a trained guide dog, but he prefers to socialize with as many people as possible…and he made us feel right at home. On the way back from the Gaspesie, we stayed at the Hotel Château Laurier; in many ways, it’s the opposite of the Frontenac. Yes, it’s in Old Quebec, but…well, do wine vending machines in the hallways sound traditional? Another non-traditional twist is that the hotel doesn’t have a dining room; rather, they partner with other restaurants in the city to create packages that appeal to different gastronomic tastes.

Had we known what was awaiting us at the Gite du Mont Albert, we'd have been a bit less concerned about rain forcing us inside! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

We awoke our first morning in Quebec to a sound we really didn’t want to hear…rain dripping off the roof of the Frontenac.  Fabulous…here we are in Quebec in February to head into the snowy backcountry, and it’s raining??? With our usual optimism only slightly dampened, we  headed for the town of Ste. Anne des Monts. We’d planned the first day to be relaxed, with sightseeing along the way; it’s roughly a 6-hour drive up there (see why we wanted to stop in Quebec City the night before?) along the St. Lawrence River, so there should be plenty to see, right?  Well…not so much in a cold, foggy rain, when we were wondering if there would be snow at the destination OR if the rain would turn into ice and leave us stranded. The St. Lawrence was barely visible through the fog, but one feature of the trip stood out…windmills! Canada is investing heavily in a renewable energy future, and we saw hundreds of the massive beasts, turning slowly and gracefully in the distance. It’s magnificent, and a reminder of the focus on reduced pollution in the area (yes, we’re comparing it to the slow progress in the U.S.).

By Ste. Anne, we’d decided to relax and make an early start into the mountains the next day. Luckily, it’s hard to go through any town in Quebec of any size without finding a nice place to stay and some good food. The former was easily met by La Seigneurie des Monts, a historic inn close enough to the St. Lawrence that Tom Brady could chuck a football into the water from their porch. Unfortunately, their dining room wasn’t open, but the seemingly bizarrely named Pub Chez Bass wasn’t far away. On a cold, foggy night, pub food seemed perfect, and the warm atmosphere relaxed us…and as we ate, the rain turned to snow.

They do call is SNOWshoeing; in the Gaspesie, they aren't fooling around when it comes to the white stuff! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

After an excellent breakfast at La Seigneurie, we were on our way to the Gîte du Mont-Albert…and more snow! We’d somehow found our way into an oddball weather system where the warm rain near Quebec City had broken the ice on the St. Lawrence, and a cold north wind was lifting the moisture off the river and depositing it on our heads. Over the next 5 days, we literally had a only few hours when it wasn’t snowing. Unfortunately, the stunning views the area is known for were mostly hidden; but the tradeoff was nearly constant fresh tracks. Life is so hard…

For our first day at the Gîte, we decided to go snowshoeing and shake the travel kinks out of our legs before beating them up on the boards. The Gîte provided us with a brown bag lunch and sent us out with a guide to the Abri de la Serpentine, a shelter tucked up among the mountains. It’s a 12.6 kilometer, roughly 5 hour trip; the first section is a LONG uphill climb to the cabin, where you can rest, warm up, eat lunch, and then head back toward the Gîte around Lac du Diable. Even though it was cold and snowing, it didn’t take us long to strip down to our baselayers as we climbed…and climbed…some steeps, but mostly just a nice, steady, manageable uphill. The views were almost surreal; the sun clearly wanted to come out, and there didn’t LOOK to be much in the way of clouds above, but the snow just kept coming and coming. We were certainly ready for our break when we reached the cabin, and no food was left behind, either! The trip down was…well, just plain silly fun. Thigh deep powder on snowshoes means hard work while climbing, but downhills are pretty much a standing glissade; well, at least until I caught a toe of my snowshoe on a branch and executed a perfect header, to the great amusement of my companions, who unanimously scored it a 10.

Back at the Gîte, the bar was about as nice a place to relax before dinner as any we’ve ever seen. The combination of soaring ceilings and traditional wood construction was both modern and homey at the same time…and a friendly bartender and a nice glass of wine prepared us for the kind of comfort food you’d expect at a mountain lodge. Okay, not really…this is Quebec. The food was almost shockingly gourmet; it almost felt as if we’d been transported back to Quebec City. Roughing it, this isn’t! After dinner, back to the room; no late night for us, as we knew what was coming the following day…

If you want true backcountry skiing, Ski Chic-Chocs will get you there! (David Shedd photo)

And in the morning, I was off to take advantage of one of only two full-on cat skiing operations in the Northeast (the other being in Newfoundland, even farther into the middle of nowhere). Ski Chic-Chocs exists to make it easier for backcountry skiers to enjoy the ridiculous amounts of powder the Gaspe receives, providing guides (and rental equipment) as well as somewhat-warmer-than-outside cabins in their Catski to drag us back up the hill. It’s not Western cat skiing; the mountains aren’t that big. But, they’re plenty big and plenty wild, particularly in the disorienting conditions of constant snowfall. Up top, in the howling wind, the surfaces were scratchy…but as we skied down, the snow underfoot got deeper and deeper. In the trees, protected from the wind, it approached waist deep in places.

Everest? No, but for all we could tell, it could have been...by the time we reached the top, our earlier tracks were nearly filled in! (David Shedd photo)

Using AT (alpine touring) gear, we alternated  runs to the bottom where the ‘cat met us and took us back up with partial runs where we put skins on and glided back up to cover more of a particularly lovely glade area. If you haven’t tried AT, you’re missing a treat. Downhill, you have the control of traditional downhill skis/boots/bindings. Uphill, you have the ability to ski the kind of areas that most of us associate with Telemark. Remarkably, climbing back uphill on these boards is in many ways easier than snowshoeing;  length and width gives floatation to stay on top of the snow, the skins give great grip, and when you hit an area that’s flat or slightly downhill for a bit, they glide in perfect control, faster than any snowshoes. With ski manufacturers finally figuring out the wide shaped ski equation, AT gear is not  an unreasonable option for a skier who mostly uses lift-serviced slopes day in/day out. You then have the option to take advantage of an operation like this, or getting farther off into the open glade areas at ski resorts, where there’s no easy return to the lift without climbing. Either way, for a skier who wants something close to lift-serviced, but relishes a different challenge and gorgeous powder, this is a truly unique opportunity!

Even with the near constant snow, the views were still breathtaking; no wonder Susan is smiling! (David Shedd photo)

Susan, being relatively new to alpine skiing, wisely decided to pass on this adventure, and instead went out snowshoeing with a group in the same area we were skiing (which led to a whole bunch of shouting and echoing when we saw each other on nearby peaks!).  She, too, had a ball; by taking advantage of Ski Chic-Choc’s cats, her group was able to start much higher and cover much more terrain than if they’d had to climb from the lodge.  Even though the views were limited by the constant snow, winds would suddenly open a view to a mountain, or into a valley, giving them a constant sense of anticipation of what might happen next.  Having a guide from Ski Chic-Chocs meant freedom to focus on what was around them without worrying about where they were going, a very agreeable luxury!

By the end of the day, we were ready for another night of relaxation at the Gîte, more great food and companionship, and an early bedtime, knowing that we had an early morning ahead of us…we were headed DEEPER into the wilds of the Gaspésie!

Snow, mountains...and one lone building, in the middle of nowhere. That's the Auberge de Montagne des Chic Chocs! (David Shedd photo)

There’s a politically incorrect phrase heard often south of the Canadian border: “those crazy Frenchmen.” But, without in any way making that a negative, they HAD to be wonderfully, magnificently crazy to build the Auberge de Montagne des Chic-Chocs. Nobody remotely sane would build a four-star hotel at the TOP of a mountain that you can’t reach in the winter. Okay, maybe not at the top of the mountain, exactly…there ARE higher peaks in the area. But, the “base lodge” is at over 2000 feet…and you ski DOWN from there. Did I say you can’t reach it in the winter?  Okay, I lied. You can.  But only by THEIR custom, deluxe, converted van snowcats. Very comfy…which is a bloody good thing, since it’s 40 kilometers to the lodge from the last place you can take something with wheels. On, of course, a serpentine road that hugs the mountainside, crosses stunning rivers flowing through mountain valleys…you get the picture. The ride itself is a treat, making you wonder…can the lodge really live up to the buildup? Worry not…it’s as stunning as the scenery, and as unexpected.

Karhu was ahead of their time with the Meta Ski; they're fun, rare, and the Auberge has a fleet of them for your enjoyment! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

I wish we could say that we paid full attention to the introduction that Guy Laroche, the manager of the Auberge, gave us when we arrived. He did his best, letting us know that surprising variety of amenities offered (being hedonists at heart, we DID pay attention to where the outdoor hot tub was), the great array of equipment for our use. With great patience, he even got us to pay enough attention to know where our room was and be able to head there and store our luggage. But…out the windows, there was SNOW. Not snow, SNOW. We did pay attention to the need for avalanche beacons, and other safety instructions, but details about the lodge itself? Nah. That could wait until after dark.

And, soon after, we were out with a guide and some Karhu Meta Skis. These are real oddballs that, unfortunately, never captured the public’s imagination, possibly because no one really understood them. People thought they were backcountry skis, and by that measure, they’re terrible (although using them with Telemark or AT boots, as opposed to your basic winter boot, dramatically improves their downhill skiing performance). If you think of them as really fast snowshoes, however, they’re a blast! We wound around in the most amazing winter wonderland, up and down; since the skins are built into the ski, there were no delays, no waiting while we put on skins to climb, or took them off to go downhill. The Meta Skis really shine on mixed terrain with rolling hills, and we found plenty of them. As the shadows lengthened, we headed back for the lodge very, very reluctantly.

Huge, multipurpose, and incredibly welcoming, the great room at Auberge du Montagne des Chic Chocs is the center of all eating activitities (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

That really wasn’t fair; the lodge deserves to be fully appreciated.  It would be impressive if it were in a “normal” location; here, where a tent is near luxury, it’s fabulous. In particular, the great room, which really is a GREAT room, is noteworthy. It’s a massive open space, punctuated by a 4-sided glass fireplace. Unlike the Gîte, which has separate rooms for bar and dining, this is the “everything” space where you eat, drink, hang out, talk, read, you name it. We found ourselves sort of rotating from space to space over an evening…a warm cup from the superb coffee/espresso/cappucino machine when we came in from an outdoors session, to the bar after a hot tub or nap, then to the long tables for dinner, and over to the cubbies near the windows to talk and share some port after dinner was over. It’s a warm, relaxing space, in keeping with the “casual elegance” theme.

Roughing it? Not likely...this IS Quebec, after all! (David Shedd photo)

Dining follows that same theme; breakfast and lunch are buffet, and dinner is served family style, with large platters of fabulous food (venison with roasted carrots and asparagus, for instance) being passed around. It makes sense, since there isn’t a pool of neighborhood talent to call on for wait staff; yes, your server WAS your backcountry guide a few hours before. Guy even doubles as wine steward, and will happily recommend a perfect match for your dinner from his latest selection of “finds.” Don’t worry about going hungry…there’s PLENTY of food (and there’s always something hanging around to eat when you come in from a long ski and are hungry enough to eat your own arm). Basically, this is “roughing it” only if you’re a Ritz Carlton Platinum Elite member.

But even the Ritz can’t give you the profound silence that comes with being this far from anywhere. About the only thing that can disturb your night’s sleep is wind, and we didn’t have enough to notice. Talk about waking refreshed…and excited! Backcountry skiing was on the agenda, and a look out the window showed us that our tracks from yesterday had utterly disappeared. I’m afraid we didn’t give breakfast the attention it deserved; we were too wound up and wanted to be sure we were totally prepared when our groups were ready to go. The guides broke us up into two groups; Susan went out to explore some gentler glades with several other people who didn’t have much backcountry experience. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went out with the REAL lunatics. The group included Steve Gorman, a longtime backcountry telemark fanatic, Rob Story, a Telluride native and an writer for “Powder Magazine” and others, and our host Guy, who lives/works there for the simple reason that he can ski out his back door all the time. And, we literally went out the back door, skiing directly from the parking lot down through thigh-deep powder to Chute Hélène, a waterfall famous in that area. I wasn’t anywhere near  in the league of the other skiers in the group, but they were kind enough to stop halfway down to let me catch up. On the first run, I pulled up next to Rob and said “Whaddya think?”  He said only one word…”Epic!” There you have it; a Western native skier, describing Eastern natural powder as “epic.” I looked at the sky…no signs of gathering clouds or massive lightning bolts. Still, I was happy when Rob skied away from me; who knew when the sky was going to fall???

Even if the skiing hadn't been fantastic, it would have been worth the trip just to see Chute Helene, magnificent in its frozen state (David Shedd photo)

It wasn’t just the skiing that was epic, though. When we reached the bottom and put on our skins, it was a short glide to Chute Hélène…and we were more than rewarded for the effort. Stunning even in its frozen state, Hélène seemingly falls directly from the sky down a cliff. A stop on the International Appalachian Trail, it’s hard to imagine how extraordinary it must be in late spring, with massive amounts of snowmelt churning down. Clearly, we need to go back when the snow is gone!

But for now…back up the mountain for another run. One of the great advantages of skiing AT in a group, besides the shared fun and increased safety, is taking turns breaking trail on the climb back up. Trust me, it’s a real workout whether you’re on the front or the back of the line; strip down to light layers, or you’ll sweat until you regret it! It makes for great skiing, though; you’re warm, your legs are loose and energized when you reach the top, so you have great flow on the way down again. Want to know how much fun the skiing really was? Take a look at this video of us having a ball!

In the other group, Susan was having as much fun as we were. After learning mostly on hard, scratchy resort snow, playing in the powder came naturally to her. By the end of her session, she was wishing she’d gotten to come out and play with us. She’d gotten great tips from her guide, and had followed the cardinal rule of glades: Look at the SNOW, not the trees! One of the most important things she’d found out, in fact, is that there’s a lot more snow than you’d expect.  Looking down at a backcountry glade, it can appear utterly impenetrable; but, when you ski down to it, you suddenly find that there’s a lot more space between the trees than it looks from above.  What had seemed scary to her as she headed out had become FUN!  When we met up for lunch, she was glowing and laughing. Truly, can you ask more from a morning of skiing than that?

Views that would make Ansel Adams weep are part of the charm of the Chic-Chocs (David Shedd photo)

After lunch, Steve and Rob and some of the other hard-core types headed back onto the slopes, but we wanted to explore, so we grabbed snowshoes and headed out. The Auberge has well-marked trails to follow; even though snow had filled in any signs of them, the tree markings made it easy. We explores a quick hour or two loop from the lodge called the Bucher; after wandering through moose heaven for a while, you come out onto an edge with unbelievable views of Mont Nicol-Albert, among others. The strange constant snow we’d been having was finally starting to calm itself down, and with the sun forcing its way through the clouds, the effects were like something out of an Ansel Adams print. We’ve probably seen views AS beautiful, but I doubt we’ve ever seen anything MORE beautiful.

Back at the lodge, we were in time to catch a quick nap, a soak in the outdoor hot tub, and then to the great room for a drink before dinner. The mood  was as light and happy as any we’ve ever seen; it had been a perfect day, with enough effort to have earned our magnificent meal, stunning scenery, and a sense that we’d participated in something truly unusual and very special. Dinner flowed into some vintage port as we all sat and chatted in the lounge area; we knew we had to leave in the morning, and didn’t want to let it end.

Riding out in the snowcat produced constantly changing, stunning views (David Shedd photo)

Alas, morning brought packing up and heading out, yet even that was a true joy. The sun had finally broken through, giving us a brilliant morning to take a snowcat ride out to the “real world”. The moose were cooperative, and we saw several groups of them when we could tear our eyes away from the mountains.  Too soon, we reached the cars, and headed out on the long trip back to Quebec City. It was a strange transition…seeing houses, cars, normal signs of civilized life was disorienting after spending time in such splendid isolation. In some ways, the long drive was a boon, as it gave us all time to gently come back to what we tend to think of as “normal” life.

And back to our regular lives we went…subtly changed. I started looking for an AT ski setup, Susan asked for Meta skis for Christmas (sadly, an unfulfilled wish, as they’re no longer made and are very hard to find), and we know we’ll be heeding the call of the Gaspésie and heading up again, both in summer and winter. Be forewarned ..if you take a trip up, you may find it addicting. Like us, you may realize that you’re randomly looking at weather forecasts for Cap Chat, wondering how much snow THEY’RE getting!

Even on a day of cold, blowing snow and rotten light, the Revision Desert Locust Extreme goggles allowed me to ski confidently (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

Seriously.

Wearing Revision Military’s Desert Locust Goggles without a helmet can be hazardous to someone else’s health.

Time to backtrack. After my wonderful experience with Revision’s “Sawfly” glasses, I wandered through their catalog and ran across the Desert Locust goggle. Pretty cool looking, optimized for helmet use, and with the usual Revision “to military specs and beyond!” (sorry, Buzz Lightyear) build quality. And the “Extreme” version ($99 with neutral gray lens; extra lenses $28/each) has sealed double lenses to avoid fogging in cold weather…hmm. Definitely a “must-try”, particularly for backcountry and sidecountry skiing!

Now, here’s where the health part comes in. I took them out of the box, put them on, and my sweetheart Susan hurt herself laughing. Honest. This is why you shouldn’t even put these things ON without a helmet. Naked, they’re about as wide as J. Lo’s…sunglasses. And, frankly, they didn’t fit all that well…they gapped around my nose. NOT a promising start. But, the people at Revision are serious detail freaks, so maybe I should put on my helmet and try them that way.

You can't claim you weren't warned; these goggles are NOT meant to be used without a helmet, or seen by anyone else that way! (David Shedd photo)

Whoa! WHAT a difference. Goodbye gaps. The angle of the strap changed when the helmet was added into the equation. The goggles were pulled a bit wider, and the fit changed dramatically. These goggles SHOULD NOT be worn without a helmet.

With my trusty old carbon fiber Leedom, they looked a little . . . well . . . menacing. I looked in the mirror and thought “Hey, I look a little badass!” When I pointed this out to Susan, she hurt herself laughing again. Apparently, even with a helmet on, these things can be dangerous to someone else’s health. Also apparently, I’ve got about as much chance of being badass as Elmer Fudd.

But…the military-goggle connection does have some validity. This is serious eye protection, with serious quality. Fit on my helmet is excellent, with minimal gap showing between the helmet and the googles. Clarity of the lenses is spectacular. December and January in the Northeast means “flat light”…the sun is hiding behind the mountain, making it hard to see contours on the slopes.  The usual solution is a yellow or vermillion lens, but I personally hate yellow, and at that point the Desert Locust didn’t offer vermillion. So, neutral gray it was. And, wonder of wonders, I was able to see at least as well as my companions on some gray days that had everyone concerned about visibility. Apparently, the clarity of the optics allows for greater contrast than you would expect from neutral gray.

With this quiver of lenses, you can be set for everything from night skiing to flat light to snowblind conditions on Everest (David Shedd photo)

After several months of playing with the neutral gray, though, Revision brought out a vermillion lens for the Desert Locust. True to form, the optical quality was spectacular; so much so that on a backcountry skiing trip in Quebec’s Gaspesie National Park, another writer and REAL backcountry ski expert took one look through them, gave them a “wow!” rating, and immediately asked where he could order a pair.  They’re simply that good…and yes, he’s a helmet wearer.

Even on bright days, the vermillion lenses don’t leave my eyes tired after a long day of skiing, as some lenses have done over the years; I used them into April, and even on bluebird days didn’t feel the need to change back to neutral gray (although I like neutral gray on a day like that; color accuracy is greater, allowing you to really enjoy the beauty!). For night skiing, or when you get caught by darkness skinning back to your lodge at the end of a day of backcountry, it’s a matter of seconds to pop in a clear lens and have full vision with eye protection.

Beyond the optical quality, though, is the fogging resistance. On one particularly cold day at Sunday River, I was skiing with a couple of lunatics who thought it was a great idea to ski through the snowguns at speed. They frequently had to stop because they couldn’t see a bloody thing through the fog on their goggles. My goggles, on the other hand, were perfectly clear (other than the ice balls on them from the snowguns). Intrigued, we went in for hot chocolate and put all three sets of goggles on the table next to each other; they all fogged, but mine cleared dramatically faster than the other two. These guys don’t tolerate poor quality in anything they buy, and their goggles were no exception, but they simply couldn’t measure up. Sadly for one of them, though, he doesn’t wear a helmet, so he’s stuck with what he’s got.

There was one problem with my Desert Locusts. On my first pair, the foam that seals them to your face became damaged from putting them up and down on a helmet. An email to Revision got an instantaneous, extremely apologetic reply. They were well aware of the problem, had thought this older design had been cleared from the pipeline. They immediately sent a replacement pair. The new seal has a soft cloth layer over the foam and, after a full season of use, is showing no signs of wear. Good companies make great products; GREAT companies make great products and stand behind them when something goes wrong. Kudos to Revision on this one!

Our only remaining complaint is that the storage bag that comes with the goggles is, um, not user friendly; it works, but it’s a pain in the neck.  An extra quarter inch added to all dimensions would make it a lot easier to deal with (hint, hint, Revision…).

Not every product is right for everyone, and the Desert Locust Extreme is no exception. If you don’t wear a helmet, don’t waste your time; they simply won’t work. And, it’s likely that they won’t fit some helmet/face combinations…but we haven’t found any yet they haven’t worked with. If you’re a backcountry/sidecountry addict, we can’t imagine anything that will make you feel more confident in the trees than a goggle that survives bullet impacts. While that level of protection isn’t necessarily needed on the slopes, we’ve seen enough shattered lenses after crashes to take comfort in the durability of these. Besides…even if the Desert Locusts can’t make you look badass, there’s gotta be some street cred to wearing bulletproof military goggles. Paging Mr. Rambo…

Karhu Meta Skis in their natural environment--the snowy, rolling hills of Quebec's Gaspesie (David Shedd photo)

A number of years ago, the legendary ski company Karhu (which is now making running shoes, not skis–go figure?) brought out some odd contraptions called “Meta Skis,” which were, essentially, very short, very fat skis with incredibly rugged, machined aluminum bindings on them. The bindings looked like  a cross between free-heel Telemark and snowboard bindings–but they let you wear almost any footwear you want from sneakers (though your calves probably wouldn’t be happy with that choice) up to the super-insulated “Mouse Boots” that are supposed to keep your feet warm at 100 below zero. On the bottom were metal edges and a wide, permanently-mounted strip of climbing skin. A later version of the Meta Ski was a little longer, had more sidecut, and was called the Karver. The Meta Skis and Karvers defined a category and “meta skis” has become  a generic term for any very short, fat skis for backcountry travel. “Sliding Snowshoes” is the other common way to describe this category of snow toys.

These innovative products were designed to bridge the gap between snowshoes and backcountry skis. What they are is a lot of fun and very useful — in the right circumstances.

Now let’s be clear that meta skis will never completely replace either snowshoes or backcountry skis for real backcountry use. But they certainly have their place on the snow-covered wooded hills and trails of the northeast .

Snowshoes have some real advantages for winter backcountry travel. They are easy to learn: if you can walk, you can snowshoe. Basically you just place one on each foot, then place one foot in front of the other until you get where you want to go. Yes, it’s almost that easy. Snowshoes are safe, stable and can go almost anywhere there’s snow. Most modern snowshoes have built-in traction that keeps you from sliding on crust or ice. Best of all, snowshoes are fun–at least for endorphin addicts. You can get a great workout on snowshoes–especially in deep snow.  But, they’re slow…slower than plain old walking on bare ground. Yes, there is a whole circuit of races sun on snowshoes, but, generally, if you feel the need for speed, snowshoes are NOT your vehicle of choice for snow travel.

The permanent skins on the base of the Karhus provide excellent climbing traction AND slow you down for control coming downhill. (David Shedd photo)

Backcountry skis , including Telemark,  Alpine Touring (sometimes called AT or by the French name, Randonée), and a newer hybrid category called backcountry nordic, require more skill to use safely than snowshoes do. But they climb moderate hills easily with either fishscale bases and steeper slopes with removable climbing skins. Best of all, they let you come down those hills much, much faster than you can on snowshoes. Those downhills are perfect for adrenaline addicts . . .

Meta skis were supposed to be faster than snowshoes, but easier to control than skis. One of the big selling points was that you didn’t need special ski boots—they work well with hiking boots and  insulated “Pac” boots. No cold or wet feet — ever! But, like any other hybrid, sliding snowshoes are a compromise. They aren’t as safe and stable as snowshoes. They aren’t as thrilling as skis.

It seemed a lot of the Meta Skis and Karvers from Karhu were sold to wilderness snowmobilers who needed emergency backup transportation if their machines broke down far from the road. But some pairs were sold to people like us who just want to explore every possible option for human-powered fun on snow.

Here’s a quick look at the category.

Meta Skis and Karvers (9.25 lbs./pair with bindings)

The elegant originals which defined the category, the Karhu offerings are still in common use, even though they are not made anymore. Wide enough to really float in deep snow, they have simple-to-use bindings which provide great support and stability with almost any high boot, and can only be described as “bombproof.” The wide strip of climbing skin on the bottom lets you climb on crusted or icy snow far better than fishscales. Coming downhill, that permanent climbing skin cuts both ways. It slows you down which makes these the easiest “sliding snowshoes” to control on a descent, but they also take the adrenaline rush of speed out of the equation. Tradeoffs.

Karhu defined the category with the original "Meta Skis" and the Karvers (shown here)--short skis with permanent climbing skins and bombproof bindings that worked with any boot. (David Shedd photo)

EasternSlopes.com Exective Editor Tim Jones is lucky enough to own a pair of Karvers. As he says, “I prefer snowshoes for serious backcountry travel with a heavy pack, and skis for real slopes. But the Karvers definitely have their place. They are really fun for poking around in the woods and on moderate hillsides in untracked snow. They float beautifully and can climb and descend easily and safely, a little faster than snowshoes but much slower than skis.

They are also particularly great for tracking out cross-country trails after a snowstorm for you and your friends to ski later. A friend of mine keeps borrowing mine for exactly that purpose.”

Senior Editor David Shedd and correspondent Susan (Marean) Shedd used original Karhu Meta Skis in the deep powder of the Chic Choc Mountains of Quebec’s Gaspésie National Park in February. They were utterly enchanted with the experience. Skiing on them out of the Auberge De Montagne Des Chic-Chocs, using AT boots provided by the lodge, they found that the Meta Skis climb beautifully, and after a little practice were a total ball in surprisingly tight glades (the stiffness of the AT boots over regular winter boots added a lot of edge control and made them almost perform like Tele skis). On this same adventure, they were also skiing full AT gear on the steeper, longer slopes, but found they preferred the Meta Skis on rolling terrain; no stopping to put skins on for each hill. In fact, they liked them so much that they’ve been watching for a good deal on eBay!

Sadly, Karhu discontinued both the Meta Skis and the Karvers some years ago. So if you want to try the inspirations which defined the category, you’ll have to go looking for a used pair (AFTER David and Susan find theirs!). Oh, and if you happen to have an under-used pair of Karvers or Meta Skis gathering dust in your attic, or know someone who does, please let us know. We know people who want them (and not just our own editors!).

The L.L. Bean Boreal Sliding snowshoes are the lightest of the test. (Tim Jones photo)

L.L. Bean Boreal Sliding Snowshoe (6.25 lbs./pair with bindings)

When Karhu stopped producing its versions, the idea of a “meta ski”  was just too good to let die, and , L. L.. Bean started offering a very light short ski with a fishscale bottom called the “Boreal Sliding Snowshoe.”

These are made by Rossignol, but aren’t (at this writing, at least) in Rossignol’s catalog. Basically, they appear to be a shorter (130 cm) version of Rossignol’s BC 125 Backcountry Ski which is offered in 165, 175 and 185 cm lengths. The Boreals feature the same well-proven “Positrack” no-wax fishscale base as the longer BC skis.

We had a chance to try the Boreals last winter, first on a light skiff of snow over grass at the Hulbert Outdoor Center’s Winter Skills Day, later on the bunny slopes at Gunstock, in the woods near Waterville Valley and, finally, on some lovely soft spring corn snow on local logging trails. Our first impressions indicated that the scale bases don’t climb nearly as well as skins; part of the problem seems to be that the skis are so stiff that it takes a very heavy user to make full contact between the scales and the snow. But a pair of removable “kicker” skins under the foot area would probably make these things climb like mountain goats.The overall light weight (lightest in the category) is a real plus when trekking up hills.

Some of our testers described the Boreals as "squirrelly" on hard snow. Better boots and bindings might help. (Tim Jones photo

The Boreals with their slick fishscale bases are MUCH faster downslope than the Karhus with their built-in skins. They are so fast, in fact, that their speed makes them harder to control, but more fun for people who know how to ski and have the space between trees to make turns. Tradeoffs.

We didn’t feel the Boreals offered the kind of all-conditions reliability we’d demand for touring with a heavy winter backpack, nor were they particularly stable on crust and hard snow. In fact, several testers independently described them as “squirrelly” (or an unprintable version of that concept). But they were great fun for playing in untracked soft corn snow. We’d be cautious about using them for climbing or descending at either end of the snow spectrum, however; both powder and crust made them hard to control for most of us.

The Berwin binding that is offered with the set allows the use of regular boots, which is the way to go if you are traveling mostly on flat ground, in extreme cold, or if you suffer from cold feet. But don’t expect a lot of stability and control on downhills. The Berwins are a backcountry classic. You don’t get a lot of lateral edge control, but they are lightweight and easy to use with gloved hands. If you are really leaving the road behind and heading somewhere where a broken binding could put you in peril, it’s a good idea to carry a spare binding. While the Berwin bindings are proven wilderness travelers, and certainly rugged enough for most situations, they ARE made of plastic.

If you really want to get the best of the Boreals as backcountry skis, we’d probably recommend mounting them with 75mm 3-pin- or 3-pin-and-cable e Tele bindings and using them with a soft leather or plastic Tele boot. Though at that point, we aren’t sure what, if any, their advantage would be over a longer ski. We haven’t had the opportunity to try that combination yet, but feel confident that it would be an improvement, and should reduce the “squirrelly” factor significantly, particularly on downhills. More testing needed . . .

The Marquette Backcountry skis aren't for hard snow, but were great fun in soft spring corn. (Marilyn Donnelly photo)

Marquette Backcountry Ski (10 lbs./pair without binding)

Poking around for similar products, we discovered the Marquette Backcountry Ski, which is injection molded of rugged plastic with a scale base. These things are BUILT . . . you could probably lend them to your pet elephant and let him play on them without fear of damage (to the skis, at least). The Marquette Backountries are less expensive than the Boreals, but without the metal edges. They come pre-tapped for Berwin, 3-pin, Nordic Backcountry or Tele bindings so mounting the binding of your choice or trying different ones is easy and quick.

Unfortunately, these arrived too late last winter for any extensive testing, though we did spend an afternoon poking around on some small hills covered with buttery-soft corn snow and had a ball. We are waiting for a good powder dump to try them again. The Marquettes are rockered (think rocking chair) and should float like a dream in deep powder. They certainly floated on the rotting corn snow. Because they don’t have metal edges, we’d be scared spitless to take them anywhere near crust- or ice-covered slopes. For that reason alone, we’d NEVER use them on a backcountry adventure. In our opinion, these are strictly for play on wooded slopes on soft-snow days, and for packing XC trails after a snowfall. That said, we can’t wait to get them out on logging roads in deep, fresh snow . . .and if you’ve got a sloped back yard, prepare for fun.

Ready for a day of play in the snow. Meta skis won't replace snowshoes and backcountry skis, but they make rolling hills and deep snow lots of fun. (David Shedd photo)

Again, we tried our test pair first with Berwin Bindings and insulated boots. We’re guessing they’ll work better with a soft Tele setup and will update this article as soon as we’ve explored that option. Stay tuned!

The Takeaway

Some people have described meta skis or sliding snowshoes as “a solution looking for a problem.” And it’s true that no one “needs” a pair of sliding snowshoes if they already have snowshoes and/or skis. But in our view meta skis are are made for having fun on rolling hills, not mountains, which makes them perfect for backyard play throughout the northeast. In the end, they’re another great excuse to get outdoors on snow, get some fresh air and exercise, and have fun.

6 pieces, 10 ounces, amazingly flexible protection system! (David Shedd photo)

We’re a big fan of 3-piece glove/mitt systems for most outdoor pursuits.  Having an overmitt that provides maximum protection, yet comes off easily to give us greater dexterity, is a major help when setting up a winter camp, or when trying to take photos in the field. Having a thin liner glove as the third piece of the system allows for better moisture control and wicking, and lets us keep our hands away from direct contact with metal, snow, whatever, when we need even better tactile feel than the second layer gives us.  Plus, playing around with the combination allows us to fine tune for different temperatures.

However, there are usually a few different prices to pay. One, literally, is price; 3-piece systems tend to be relatively expensive, for obvious reasons.  Another is loss of dexterity when the whole mess is put together. Put several gloves inside each other, and you can usually expect it’ll get bulky and hard to grab with, compared with a single warm mitten. And, finally, a lot of glove systems are really hard to get on/off when you’re sweating and they’re moist inside.

Sometimes, though, things all come together as if the cosmos intended it all along.  And, combining Outdoor Research’s “Latitude” 2-piece combo with their PL100 liner glove feels like one of those cosmic coincidences. First things first…it’s hard to know that the Latitude is a 2-piece, because OR simply markets it as an “ultralight shell.” You have to read down farther to find out that it’s a shell AND a glove. Dumb marketing for a great product.  When OR calls the shell an ultralight, though, they aren’t kidding; it feels about as thick as a piece of wax paper. But don’t kid yourself; it’s not weak or flimsy. The material is tough, the palm is grippy, and it’s full featured: Strap across the back of the wrist to tighten it on, that you can operate with a mitten on the other hand?  Check. An “idiot cord” to keep the mittens attached to you when you take them off so you don’t drop them off the ski lift? Check (For the record, I don’t think I’m an idiot, but I use them all the time; too easy to have a wind take them miles away when you  put them down, since they’re so light!). OR’s excellent Duo-Cord gauntlet closure, that allows you to pull one tab to tighten them, one to loosen? Check. Pre-curved, so the palm doesn’t bunch up when you grab something? Check.

The PL100 liner (r) slides easily in and out of the Latitude liner glove, allowing for great dexterity and surprising warmth (David Shedd photo)

So, the mitten has the right stuff…how about the glove?  Well, let’s just say that they’re my current go-to glove for driving, working in the garage, etc.  True to OR’s obsessive-compulsive nature, they’re a surprisingly elaborate affair, with an inner fleece layer and an outer shell that’s grippy on the palm and fingers, slippery on the back.  Warmth is moderate; they’re 100 weight fleece inside the thin shell.  But, they’re surprisingly waterproof, making it possible to clean snow off the car with them and stay dry, and that makes them feel warmer than a glove that lets moisture in. And grip they have, in spades, along with seams that are nearly invisible to the fingers, giving great feel. They’re a great work glove, period. After a season of abuse, they’re showing some small signs of wear here and there, but still in great shape overall. That’s one of Outdoor Research’s claims to fame; if you need to trust something when you’re climbing a 20,000 footer, you know that their construction is impeccable.

Snowing, windy, and 0F in Quebec's Chic-Chocs mountains, but the Latitude/PL100 combination kept me plenty warm (Susan Marean photo)

So far, so good; great features, great feel, great fit. But, only moderate warmth. At 20 degrees F, that’s fine, but as the temps crawl down closer to zero, they just aren’t warm enough.  That’s where the PL100 liner comes in.  Made of OR’s 100 weight “Radiant Fleece”, they’re a smooth, silky-feeling, close fitting liner. A little thicker than the lightest liner gloves, they’re a LOT warmer, and surprisingly wind resistant. And, the fabric breathes well, making them easy to get on and off, and keeping them warm when you’re working hard; dry hands are warm(er) hands.

One characteristic of good liner gloves is that they’re slippery, helping them to conform to the gloves they’re sliding into; however, that creates its own problem. When you need maximum dexterity and strip down to the liner, you suddenly don’t have any significant grip; things slide out of your fingers.  Most liners offer an “all or nothing” approach; no grip at all, or the entire finger/palm area has added grip, effectively turning it from a liner glove to a standalone, since it won’t fit easily into another glove. OR’s solution is simple and surprisingly functional…put a bit of silicone on the first joint area of the thumb and forefinger.  It’s a smart compromise; the liner still slides easily in and out of the Latitudes, but if you have to pick a quarter off the ground, you can (hey, I’m of Scottish descent; picking up loose change is a religion!).

The added warmth of the PL100 dramatically increases the utility of the Latitude combination; while backcountry skiing on the Gaspe peninsula at a windy 0 degrees F., my hands remained comfortable. Even with multiple stops to take off the overmitt to shoot photos and video, my hands never came close to “real pain” ; a few arm windmills, and they were warm again.  For most of the photo shooting, I was able to leave both pairs of gloves on, yet still operate the small controls on my Olympus camera; that was both a surprise and a huge help to keep me warm (and waste less time…no fumbling to keep the gloves where they belonged while I got my shots, then get gloves on, mittens on…you get the picture).

Rolled up, the Latitude overmitts take up remarkably little space, giving an added margin of safety tucked into your emergency kit (David Shedd photo)

Flaws?  Really, only a couple. No, they’re not an expedition mitt; if you’re going to be fooling around at -35, you’re likely smart enough to know that you need a LOT more insulation than these offer. However, they can easily be adapted to handle colder weather.  Pick up a relatively inexpensive, oversized mitt (oversized, as in if you wear a large, buy an XL) with decent insulation (even cheapies use Thinsulate these days). Take off the thin OR overmitt, stick on the thick one…voila!  Not waterproof, but generally if it’s that cold you’re less worried about waterproof; we’re talking about staying warm as you sit in camp, or have lunch on a long, cold snowshoeing trek.  That’s a cheap solution that gives you almost infinite combinations to meet most conditions, and doesn’t add tons of weight.  Or, as a ski patrolman at Cranmore said to us as we rode up a lift together, “I have those same mitts, and I got some thick fleece mittens to put inside; I’ve never been cold in them yet!”  Options abound…use your imagination to get the combination that’s just right for you.

The only other flaw, as mentioned earlier, is the price of the system. The two-piece Latitude system rings up at $120; the PL100 adds another $26. Include tax or shipping, you’re looking at $150, a not-inconsiderable chunk of change. But, when you’re out snowshoeing at 10 degrees and slip in a creek crossing, would you rather have saved $50 on a lesser system, or know that the hand you just plunged into 34 degree water up to the wrist isn’t going to get soaked, then turn to a block of ice? There are areas that we’re more likely to cut corners, as they won’t compromise our safety (a good example is gaiters; OR’s are the industry standard, but if you need to save money somewhere, LL Bean’s “Winter Walkers” do the trick admirably, allowing you to better allocate your funds elsewhere).

Now, here’s a tip; we’ve just gotten word that OR is discontinuing this model, and replacing it next winter with a nod to their heritage, the Mt. Baker Modular (the original Mt. Baker was a landmark product for OR “in the day”).  The new setup will have more insulation in the liner glove, but will also cost about $20 more. I expect we’ll love those, but in the meantime, there may be retailers wanting to move these out, so keep your eyes open for bargains!  With luck, you could save enough to cover the cost of insulated overshells and have the best of ALL worlds.

I really love this job because I am rarely told “No.” Within a few days I was signed up for the race and had wrangled my good friend, Jim, into being my partner. (It didn’t take a lot of work. He can be as foolish and impulsive as me at times.) We were both excited. As outdoor enthusiasts and avid runner/hikers we felt we had the stamina to complete the race. The question was: Did we have the skills to actually compete against experienced adventure athletes?

Lack of skill has never stopped us from trying anything before. .  . .

Teams gather for pre-race information. (Brett Lund photo)

The Frigid Infliction is put on by the Green Mountain Adventure Racing Association (GMARA). We would compete in mutiple events, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, postholing (hiking through deep snow without snowshoes), and a Tyrolean traverse (pulling oneself across a suspended rope) all while navigating by map and compass. Teams of two or three individuals (coed or not) compete in divisions. The risk in having a two-person team is that if one of us could not continue, we’d be out of the race because at least two team members had to complete the course. Jim and I were already placing bets as to which one of us would drop out, but I was pleased to read on the GMARA website that the race was well suited to beginner adventure racers. I hoped I would not have to increase my life insurance policy.

The race registration was on Friday night at Bolton Valley Nordic Center, and we drove the two hours up I-89 through impressively deep snow; 14 inches was sticking to the trees as we navigated up the access road to Bolton.

Friday night’s registration included an equipment check, last-minute compass and navigation training, and some pre-race information. The race would start promptly at 5:00 Saturday morning and teams were instructed to arrive a half hour earlier to receive maps and more instructions. The mandatory gear list was laid out for us, and safety was obviously the order of the day. If you became lost or hurt, you needed to be prepared to be in the woods for a while until help arrived. And since all teams were required to carry the same safety items, no one team would have a weight advantage.

Jim near the first checkpoint. (Brett Lund photo)

We had a comfortable room at Bolton’s slopesside Hotel, but we hardly saw the room. So-called “morning” (3:45, yikes!) came much too early. But the competitive juices kicked in, and we were wide awake and ready to race by the time we arrived at the Nordic Center to receive pre-race instructions. Not having done an adventure race before, I had no idea that there would be so little time to review the map prior to starting. Topographical maps and Bolton Valley Nordic Center maps were handed out with race instructions. At this point competitors were given about 10 minutes to develop a plan.

For the first leg, we would compete on snowshoes to find three check points designated on our maps in any order. Jim and I quickly decided to climb to the highest checkpoint first, so that we could move quickly downhill to the next two after locating the first.

Running between checkpoints would be our main advantage. (Brett Lund photo)

After the mass start, the pack quickly broke into three groups. A third of our group had a similar game plan. While out of practice with compass navigation, I knew enough to get us into the right area, then compared the topos of the Nordic Center to help us generalize the location of the checkpoint. Teams with strong compass skills had a distinct advantage in the dark: using observable topography was challenging at best. But as long as you can get close, being observant can help you find the checkpoint.

Checkpoint marker with hole punch dangling. Brett Lund Photo

Much of the traveling took place on Nordic Center trails, though finding the checkpoints would require off-trail navigation. When we felt we were in the right general location, we dove into the woods, and up a hill to eventually locate the first checkpoint. At each of these checkpoints there is an orange “box” flag suspended from a tree. Each has a unique hole punch tool to mark check cards and these are examined by race officials at the finish to determine what checkpoints were found. After checkpoint one, we sped off to the second and third. Running with snowshoes is not too difficult if you are a runner to begin with, and this worked to our advantage. While the second point took time to find, the third was easy as it was in a creekbed. After the three, we high-tailed it back to the start and the first of five transitions.

Transition area 1. Snowshoe to cross- country skis. (Brett Lund photo)

After lashing our snowshoes to our backpacks, we set out on cross-country skis to find three more checkpoints. Two hours had passed, and we were doing surprisingly well.

The next three points had to be found in order, and they would be just off of the cross-country trail system. Comparing topo to trail map made compass work almost unnecessary for this leg. However, these points were a greater distance apart, and we would need to make good course decisions to speed our team along. Again we reached the first point quickly, then prepared to race downhill and across some challenging ski trails to the second point. Cross country skiing on steep and tight terrain can be tough, but add a 25-pound pack to the mix, and it can be VERY challenging. Jim had warned me before the race that skiing would be his Achilles heel. But he showed a lot of grit and determination by repeatedly getting up and dusting himself off after numerous face plants (thank goodness for the 14 inches of new powder!) Made for some great laughs, though.

A fellow competitor checks his map at a transition. (Brett Lund photo)

While we were able to find our three points, we had lost some ground to iced-up bindings and a decision to try an untracked “shortcut” to the third point. Breaking trail can be exhausting, even when you share the task with other teams; by ourselves, it really slowed us down.

During the ski leg we saw much of the Bolton Valley Nordic Center’s expansive and varied trail system. They offer groomed terrain for skate skiers and narrow winding trails for backcountry enthusiasts. I found myself wishing we had more time to just explore.

Jim tackes the Tyrolean traverse. Holy burning forearms! - Brett Lund photo

The next transition put us back on snowshoes for the route to  the Tyrolean traverse (a rope strung tightly across a gulley). Required equipment included a climbing harness and two carabiners for each racer. Using the harness and carabiners, you clip yourself onto the rope, and pull yourself across upside down, with your pack on. This is easy to start, but after you reach the lowest point, you begin pulling uphill, which is a workout. The distance was relatively short, and both Jim and I were across in no time.

The next portion of the race was “postholing.”  Try walking through deep snow with no snowshoes and you get the idea. At times you stay on top, and at times you “post hole” when you break through up to your knees or even thighs. This is where it helped to be back in the pack—we had plenty of teams in front of us to make the travel easier. However, this is also the point in the race where fatigue had begun to set in, and even a simple task can seem difficult.

Once we collected markers from the next three checkpoints, we again transitioned to snowshoes to find the final five checkpoints. Now, time was the issue; we had to finish by 3 p.m, and a costly navigation mistake forced us to miss the last two checkpoints and make a beeline to the last transition area.

Do I have enough energy to chew? Fueling up at the final checkpoint. - Brett Lund photo

When we encountered other teams it was obvious that everyone was fatigued. After nine hours of practically non-stop exercise, my legs were heavy. For the last, long, uphill slog to the finish, Jim opted for snowshoes , while I hopped on my skis. There was no real feeling of “racing” at this point, just a need to finish. A lot of teams were bunched together. We would have no idea how many checkpoints our competitors had found until after the race. We would just have to hope that our combination of checkpoints and time on the course would give us a respectable finish. But truthfully, just finishing would give us plenty of self respect!

We crossed the line at just over 10 hours, and quickly realized that even walking to the car would be a challenge. Thankfully, a hot shower, a hot tub and a small bar awaited in the Nordic Center.

Finished!!! Can someone carry us to the car? Please. (Courtesy photo)

It’s true, this race can be completed by beginners in generally good physical condition. But Jim half jokingly told me not to bother calling in the next six weeks about any adventure races or he’d hang up on me. I think it was the lactic acid talking. Personally I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk for the next six weeks!

Despite the good-natured grumbling though, we both know we’ll be back for next year’s challenge. We’d like to extend a big thanks to GMARA for an exceptional job putting this race together, and to Bolton Valley, whose wondeful terrain and trail system  made for a perfect location.

Editor’s Note: What Brett is too modest to tell you is that Team EasternSlopes.com finished fourth out of 10 teams in their division with an adjusted time of 10:10:18. Congratulations Brett and Jim! For complete results of this year’s race, go here

Take one cross-country skier, attach one dog that likes to pull and you have the instant fun of skijoring. (Tim Jones photo)

Here in the northeast, Winter lasts until the end of March, mid-April in a good year.

Why not enjoy it? Snow is an invitation to get outdoors and play. And in late February through all of March the days are long, often warm, the snow is deep and it really is the best of Winter.

Here are some ideas:

Sled: The perfect Active Outdoors sport for a late winter afternoon. All you need is a hill and a sled. The late winter snowpack is settled and dense, perfect for sledding (and making it a lot easier to climb up the hills!). Cheap plastic sleds work fine. If you want to get fancy, get an Airboard or Hammerhead.

Snow Tube: If you like sliding down but don’t like climbing up, most ski hills these days offer lift-serviced snowtubing. For a few bucks you get an hour or two of cheap thrills, no lessons required. Try it under the lights on a warm, late-winter evening.

The author tries snowbiking for the first time. It's easy and great fun. (Pats Peak photo)

Snowbike: It’s the easiest way you’ll ever carve a ski slope. You sit on bike with skis instead of wheels, wear tiny skis on your feet, and tilt your head to one side or the other to turn and stop. Yes, it’s that easy. Pats Peak in Henniker, NH (www.patspeak.com/snowbike.htm) rents the bikes and offers lessons.

Snowscoot: This one is a mystery, but Mont Sutton in Sutton, Quebec (just across the border from Vermont) rents them. It’s apparently similar to a Snowbike but with wider skis (more like snowboards) you can stand on while you hold the handlebars. Gotta try it!

Snowshoe: If you can walk, you can snowshoe. Period. Snowshoes are the ATV’s of the winter world. Deep powder snow can make for tough for off-trail snowshoeing, but perfect snowshoeing on snowmobile trails and cross-country ski trails. When the snow has settled you can go anywhere. Most outdoor shops and cross-country ski areas rent snowshoes. If you’ve never tried it, what are you waiting for?

On a late winter day with blue sky above and plenty of snow. Why would anyone wish for spring? (Tim Jones photo)

XC ski-“Classic”: I just got a letter from a reader who tried cross-country skiing for the first time last Sunday. She’s totally hooked, can’t wait to go again. As she says “Picking up cross-country skiing is incredibly simple!” “Classic” or touring skis let you ski in the prepared tracks of a ski area (go to www.xcski.org for a pretty complete resort finder), or out on the golf course near your house.

XC ski-Skate: Skate skiing needs groomed trails, but it’s faster and even better exercise than “Classic” cross country. Unless you are a really good classic skier, don’t try this without a lesson. But it sure is fun!

If you drive the sled, dogsledding is a great winter sport. (Tim Jones photo)

Dogsled: Not the “tourist” variety where they bundle you in a sled and drag you around for an hour, but one where you help hook up the dogs and drive the sled. Try Mahoosuc Guide Service in Newry, Maine or Song In The Woods near Moosehead Lake in Maine.

Skijor: Dogsledding without the sled. Take one cross-country skier, attach one dog who likes to run. Instant fun. Peacepups and Eden Mountain Lodge in Vermont both give excellent lessons.

Nordic Skate: Skating on natural ice with long skates and cross-country ski boots. Late-winter melts and re-freezes can produce superb ice conditions. Nordic Skater can rent you gear and point you toward safe ice.

Thaws and re-freezes can produce wonderful Nordic skating in late winter. (Tim Jones photo)

That’s 10 ideas you can try this weekend. You could also go ice climbing, winter mountaineering, winter camping (this is absolutely the best time of the winter for that!), kite skiing, backcountry skiing, Telemarking, Randonee racing . . . you get the idea.

You can’t change the weather, so change your attitude, Instead of making yourself miserable yearning for warmer weather, enjoy the snow and cold while we still have it. Think of it this way: Winter is a joy to be savored as long as possible.

The trail into Little Lyford is mostly flat and smooth. On this blue sky-day it felt like heaven, especially knowing the comforts that awaited ahead. (Tim Jones photo)

Imagine this for a winter getaway: You drive to Greenville, Maine, which is, by most people’s standards, pretty darned remote. No, make that very remote. From the center of Greenville, you take Pleasant Street and drive out past the airport, past the last house and drive 11 miles more. Where the road ends, you park your car, stow your luggage in a little shed, then put on your  cross-country skis or snowshoes, and trek 6 to 10 miles (depending on the trail you choose to your destination).  Remember when Greenville seemed remote? Yeah, THIS is remote . . .

But wait a minute, don’t start thinking about snowcaves and winter survival. At the end of this trail, many, many miles into the winter wilds, you’ll find your luggage waiting for you. Even better, you’ll find a cozy cabin with a comfy bed and the woodstove already going. Better still, you’ll find  hot showers, a sauna, and a beautiful lodge building where they serve a scrumptious dinner that evening, breakfast the next morning and put out the makings for a hearty lunch to eat on the trail as you spend the day exploring around the “camp” or  trek another 6 to 10 miles to another equally remote and comfortable outpost.

The cabins and lodge at Little Lyford Pond are warm and inviting at the end of the trail. (Tim Jones photo)

That’s precisely the experience available at the three AMC Maine Wilderness Lodges and their partner operation West Branch Pond Camps. You can stay at any one of these wilderness refuges, or ski from camp to camp to camp to camp. I heartily recommend the experience for anyone who wants a real taste of true winter wilderness and (most of) the comforts of a fine hotel.

My sweetheart Marilyn and I just got back from a three-night, four-day adventure skiing camp-to-camp. We started with a six-mile ski into Little Lyford Pond Camp. I’ve visited Little Lyford three times before, once in the spring for their excellent brook trout fishing, twice before in the winter. Once, I got to be part of the very first camp-to-camp ski experience and once to watch the annual 100-Mile Wilderness Sled Dog Race.

Marilyn’s been nursing a knee injury all winter and we did the trek into Little Lyford very slowly. Once you are away from the parking lot (which sits high on a hill), the trail is mostly flat, always well groomed, and pretty easy, especially since you aren’t carrying a heavy pack. In other words, you don’t have to be a hero to do these treks. And, if you get an early start, there’s no need to hurry.

The weather was perfect for cross country skiing with cloud-dotted blue skies and temps in the mid 20s. When we arrived, our cabin was warm and cozy and we pulled a few icicles from the roof for Marilyn to ice her knee.

Dinner that night was baked haddock. We are eating gluten-free these days and the cook bent over backwards to accommodate our preferences serving ours perfectly done with lemon butter. Just let them know your needs and preferences (meals are planned well in advance) and they’ll take care of you.

The trail from Lyford to Gorman Chairback is just a little less than 7 miles long. There are a few hills but it's perfect for skiing with a light pack and working up an appetite for a great dinner. (Tim Jones photo)

The next morning, we faced a longer, somewhat more challenging trail to the brand-new Gorman Chairback Camp, which was slated to open that very day. We were talking about the trail with Chuck, the manager at Lyford. Chuck heard Marilyn voicing her concerns about her knee on the hillier, longer trail and offered to shuttle her by snowmobile when he took luggage over. She gratefully accepted the ride. Incidentally, snowmobile taxi service is available by prior arrangement for anyone who needs it (which makes the camps accessible to almost anyone), but private snowmachines are banned from the camp and the surrounding trail system.

Another option is to travel by dogsled. Mahoosuc Guide Service schedules several camp-to-camp dogsled adventures each winter. These are real hands-on adventures where the clients help care for the dogs, hook up and drive the dog teams.

While Marilyn rode on the snowmobile, I joyfully skied from Lyford to Gorman with new friends Jim and Alison. This pair are former marathoners, had already skied from Medawisla to West Branch Pond Camps, to Little Lyford on the preceding days, so this was old hat to them. They didn’t exactly set a leisurely pace, but they kindly didn’t try to kill me, either. The trail (just short of seven miles) wanders through lovely woodlands and snow conditions were a perfect 10. From the tracks, it seemed we just missed seeing a moose.

Our destination, the new Gorman Chairback Camp is simply stunning. There are eight lovely log cabins arrayed along the lakeshore, each with comfortable beds and a woodstove. There’s also a beautiful new energy-efficient lodge with indoor plumbing, showers and a sauna. This building was literally getting its finishing touches as we skied up.

The lodge at Gorman Chairback Camp in the wilds of Maine was getting its finishing touches as we arrived. It's energy-efficient and simply beautiful. They serve wonderful meals here, too—welcome after a sauna and hot shower at the end of a day of skiing! (Tim Jones photo)

Despite the fact that we were the very first guests, everything ran smoothly. The food was wonderful at every meal and the camp staff couldn’t have been nicer or more helpful. The first night, they even arranged a magnificent sunset followed by clear skies with billions of stars. Unless you’ve traveled in the high deserts of the west or in the remote arctic, you’ve probably never seen brighter stars than in the wilds of Maine in winter. Nice touch. Oh, and dinner (pot roast) was pretty darned fabulous, too.

We spent a day exploring the trails around Gorman Chairback on snowshoes and skis and only saw a tiny fraction of what’s there. Miles and miles of trails to explore with no one else around. That night we enjoyed another great dinner with new friends (one of the best parts of the AMC camp experience), another comfortable night, and another hearty breakfast brought us to the point where we had to pack up and hit the 8-mile trail back to the car.  The trail was great fun. Leaving wasn’t.

The folks at Gorman Chairback even provided this perfect sunset for our viewing pleasure. (Tim Jones photo)

We enjoyed a lovely ski out with light snow falling. Our luggage was waiting for us in the shed at the parking lot and the car started on the first try. Perfect!

In fact, my only complaint with the whole adventure is that I wish we’d had twice as long. This is my fourth visit to the AMC Maine Lodges, and each time I come home with the same complaint: more time needed. I guess that means we’ll have to go back again. Maybe we’ll see you there.

Going Prepared

Even on maintained trails with a warm camp on either end, you are still miles from shelter at times. Carry the gear you need to keep yourself safe and comfortable.

Any good “touring” skis will do. Marilyn and I used our Alpina “Discovery” waxless backcountry skis and they were perfect. In backpacks, we both carried extra clothing, including lightweight, warm “puffy” jackets, mittens, hats, hand and toe warmers, a water bottle in an insulated sleeve, and plenty of lunch. I also had a foam pad, a light sleeping bag and a thermos of hot tea along with my ever-present emergency kit and first aid kit. Maybe this was overkill, but if Marilyn’s knee gave out and she couldn’t continue, I wanted to be able to make her warm and comfortable while I went for help.

The AMC supplies maps which are very good (if you know how to read maps). But you should definitely carry a compass, too, and know how to use it.

If you don’t think you’d be comfortable venturing on backcountry trails on your own, the AMC can arrange guided camp-to-camp ski adventures.

If you have any questions about the AMC Maine Lodge experience or would like a more complete list of what to take on backcountry ski adventures just write to me in the comments section below, I’ll see that your questions get answered.

We expected to be early for our workshop–”Introduction to Backcountry Skiing”–but our first adventure turned out to be navigating the snowy rural route to Hulbert, which is located on the shores of Lake Morey in Fairlee, Vermont.  After a slippery drive, we arrived at the center just in time to discover the “Backcountry Skiing” workshop we had planned on taking had been canceled.  Despite today’s snow, the past week’s thaw had taken a toll on the trails. We were disappointed but knew that there would be plenty of fun available.

If you haven’t ever heard of the Hulbert Outdoor Center you are in for a treat. Their main purpose, as a program of the Aloha Foundation, is to enable individuals to enrich their lives and their communities through experiential outdoor programs. This week-end with its ‘Winterfest,” “Winter Skills Day” and “Skate-A-Thon” is just one of the many offerings by the center and the nearby Lake Morey Resort where we were staying the night.

Since we now had the morning open, we took the time to introduce ourselves to the other Eastern Slopes writers in attendance.  Tim and David were busy setting up a tipi for their workshop on “Lightweight Winter Camping,” Marilyn and Susan were relaxing by the fireplace, and Edie and Warner were getting ready for their “Exploration: Fun and Winter Skills for the Whole Family“ workshop. It already felt like we knew everyone from their writing on the website but it was nice to actually meet them. After checking out the tipi and its wood stove, we all agreed to meet back there for wine and hors d’ouevres after the day’s activities. Leave it to the EasternSlopes.com crew to make even a quiet evening a chance for outdoor fun!

Barbara and I wandered over to the Lake Morey Resort, just down the road from Hulbert, to check into our room and check out the Lake Morey Skate-a-thon that promised Nordic skating on the four mile ice track on the lake. The annual “Skate-a-Thon” around the Lake Morey skating trail benefits the Upper Valley Trails Alliance and offers skate rentals, lunch and warm drinks, which are included in donation fees ranging from $10-$25.   UVTA supports many of the Vermont/New Hampshire trail organizations and has a vision of connecting communities through trails and active lifestyles.  One of their missions is the upkeep of a “trail finder link,” a great source of finding places to ski, snowshoe, walk or hike this area.

Skating on Lake Morey. (Resort photo)

From the Inn we could see that the lake was a busy place: people were Nordic skating, a family was playing hockey, and in the distance a few ice fishermen were trying their luck.

We were fitted with ski boots and Nordic skates and headed out the door  onto the lake. Nordic skating is not your “usual” way of ice skating but involves more of the skate motion of rollerblading or skating on skis.  Barbara’s  written about our experience in detail here.

After skating and a quick change to dry clothes (you do work up a sweat!) it was time to head back to Hulbert for our afternoon workshop on “Emergency Skills.”  I’ll let Barbara tell you about that, too.

David and Marilyn in the ambient light of the "big tipi". (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

We were cold by the time the 3-hour workshop was finished and  met up with the rest of the Eastern slopes clan at Tim’s “big tipi.” We both were wondering how we were going to be able to stay outside for a few more hours. Not to worry, the tipi was toasty warm, in fact the flaps had to be opened to let in some cool air!
We were a lively group–Tim kept the stove stoked with wood, David readied his Pot Stickers for the skillet, Edie was unwrapping her marinated shrimp, and Marilyn and Susan were opening the wine.

Tim passed around some grilled venison from his  and David’s last hunting trip while Barbara offered cheese and crackers. I had already contributed my chocolate chip, oatmeal, coconut, walnut cookies to lunch, so I just waited for the wine and food.

Edie cooking shrimp atop the wood stove. (Barbara Thomke photo)

Sweet Susan and Maaahvelous Marilyn. (Barbara Thomke photo)

We ended up having such a good time that Marilyn and Susan invited us all to stay for a dinner of homemade stew and fresh green salad. Not that we needed any more food! Whoever said winter camping would be a cold experience with only freeze dried food and gorp for dessert was wrong!  Of course when we were ready for bed Barbara and I were glad we had our warm room at the Lake Morey Resort to go back to. We never did get to use those snowshoes that we brought but we did take a walk under the stars before heading to bed that night.

Barbara and I were up before dawn the next day ready to explore the resort’s x-country ski trails.  I was surprised at how rural the trails felt, not at all seeming like we were on a golf course.

Barbara skiing on Lake Morey trails. Would you ever guess this is the resort's golf course? (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

After an hour’s ski we were ready for breakfast.  The smell from the kitchen of the Inn was heavenly and we were grateful that our food arrived quickly. I had french toast with cinnamon and sausage links while Barbara had an omelette. We  also shared a fruit plate which was so large that we saved some for the ride home. From our table we could see the Nordic skate trail being groomed for that day’s skaters. Unfortunately our week-end was ending with breakfast. We did make one more stop at the tipi to say good-bye to our Eastern Slopes buddies, then headed for home after yet another opportunity to enjoy the outdoors.

REI's new 700 fill power Davos down jacket for women is long on features, short on price (REI photo)

It’s always exciting to see what REI’s cooked up for us in their new lineup, and the products for Fall 2010 are no exception.  While their range includes urban lifestyle, fancy travel gear, back-to-school gear, and the like, it’s the hard-core outdoors stuff that catches our fancy.  So, with no further ado, here’s the latest on the fun stuff!

The real focus for REI appears to have been controlling moisture from inside & out.  Their MTS fabric has been a staple of the line; it’s now updated with a new, exclusive version of Polartec PowerDry fabric.  The claim is that it provides improved wicking and faster dry times.  Currently, lightweight versions are available, with midweight and heavyweight coming as summer heat fades into winter cold.  Based on the numbers, these look like impressive baselayers; REI’s testing shows a 27% increase in wicking, 30% decrease in drying time, and water retention dropped 19% (meaning that you’re dragging less weight around with you while you’re using it).  In addition, the new fabric resists pilling better, so should last longer.  Not a bad range of changes; we’ll look forward to seeing how it does in real-world conditions!  MTS has always been a moderately priced base layer, and that hasn’t changed; the lightweight pieces range in price from $24.50 to $32.50.

At $179, the new Antifreeze has unexpected features like DWR and extreme wind resistance (REI photo)

Regular readers will know that I love down, and the updated Anitifreeze (men’s) and Davos (women’s) jackets look like winners.  With down, the moisture problem isn’t from inside; it’s keeping moisture out.  These jackets have DWR finishes, so will stay dry in light showers or in tents dripping with condensation, allowing the down to do what it does best…insulate in the coziest of ways, with light weight and great compressability for packing.  The nature of shells that hold down in well is good wind resistance; however, the Avalanche and Davos take that to extremes with the way the double baffle system works.   REI claims they’re effective to 50mph.   They’ve also upgraded the shell material and added abrasion panels to make sure that the jackets last.  The hoods are zip-off and redesigned (and if they’re designed by the same people who do REI’s wonderful sleeping bag hoods, should be VERY comfortable and effective), and the jackets come with a stuff sack so they’re ready to go into your backpack.  With 700 fill-power goose down, these should be light (around a pound and a half), comfortable, and cost effective at $179.

REI’s Shuksan & Kulshan (say that 10 times fast!) jackets and pants have been upgraded, as well.  The eVent membrane has been upgraded with a new dobby ripstop fabric, which should increase durability.  Given that these are designed for serious backcountry use, that’s a major positive; higher abrasion resistance when you’re sliding around on crust is a real bonus.  They’ve also added larger, heavier duty zippers, and RECCO reflectors to help you get found if you’ve managed to get caught in an avalanche (Hint:  if you’re going to be in an area that’s avalanche-prone, don’t just rely on the reflectors…carry a beacon!).  In a nice bit of intelligent design, the reflectors are on opposite sides of the jacket and pants, so if you’re wearing the set you’re more likely to be found regardless of which side you land on.  With the jackets priced at $299 and the pants at $239, they should be solid values.

Next, there’s the Evaporator series of ski luggage.  Obviously, one of the big issues with packing up after skiing is the amount of snow, ice, and sweat that turns into water in your gear bags, potentially damaging ski edges or just plain making everything you own stink.  REI has added mesh panels in appropriate places on the bags to allow them to breathe once they’re in a warm place and everything starts to melt.  First, there’s the Ski Bag (available in single at $59.50 or double for $10 more) that’s intelligently designed to carry up to 190cm skis rather than the older 210cm length bags, and allows any excess length to be folded over under compression straps to make a more compact package.   Then there’s the Evaporator Duffle ($69.50), which has internal compartments for various ski items (including a goggle pocket with a soft lining), plus a separate compartment for boots that goes beyond mesh to grommets in the bottom to allow better drainage.  Finally, for people like me who think their boots are too blasted heavy to sling over a shoulder, there’s the Evaporator Boot Bag, which bucks the current duffel bag trend and actually has shoulder straps so you can carry it like a backpack.  It’ll carry your boots and some of your other ski gear; at 40 liters, it should be able to handle a reasonable amount of stuff.  Lunch, anyone?

Compact and affordable, the Fall Line is aimed at skiers/boarders who ride the lifts (REI photo)

Finally, the Double Diamond and Fall Line backcountry ski packs are designed to get moisture into you, with compartments for hydration bladders and insulated sleeves along the pack straps to limit freezeup.  The Double Diamond ($119) is geared toward the hardcore backcountry enthusiast; it includes features aimed at organizing your avalanche rescue gear (did someone mention beacons?).  The Fall Line, at $99, is aimed more at lift-serviced areas, and can handle either skis or snowboards.  Smaller and easier to work with while getting on and off lifts, it still has the ability to strap your skis or board on when you need to climb to your favorite line.   Both have features specific to carrying your boards, including materials to keep the wrong kind of moisture outside.

All in all, a fun and interesting group of new products; REI clearly isn’t letting the recession keep them from moving forward!  Keep an eye on their website for the release of the products as fall comes.