Award Year: 
2012
Award Recipient: 
Remy Scalza
Category: 
Best Outdoors/Adventure Feature
Category Sponsor: 
Saskatchewan Tourism

Published in The Sun Herald, October 2011

Chilled from a day in the snow, worn out from hours of shoveling and stacking snow blocks, we worm into the tunnel of the igloo one after another. The wind's howl mutes to a low hum. The day's gray light goes black. I follow the pair of boots in front of me, crawling in toward the glimmer of light ahead.  
The boots belong to Michael Harding, igloo evangelist. An outdoor guide with baby-blue eyes and snow-white hair, Harding has raised untold hundreds of igloos in this corner of western Canada. "They're warmer than tents. They're soundproof. They're practically cozy," he’d explained earlier this morning, as we climbed into the backcountry of the mountains outside Vancouver in his late-model Nissan Pathfinder. I've joined him and another guide for a one-day crash course in igloo basics, dragging along a friend from Vancouver for this most Canadian rite of passage.  Not that I'm planning an assault on K2 anytime soon. But even for armchair adventurers, there's just something about an igloo.

Our proving ground today is a plateau high atop Cypress Mountain, whose 4,700-foot peaks rise dizzyingly just beyond the city limits. Perhaps best known as the host of the 2010 Olympic ski events, Cypress is stubbornly wild. More than 30 feet of snow fall here in an average winter, and the endless, craggy backcountry provides a popular training ground for hardcore hikers gearing up for expeditions to Mt. Baker in Washington, Mt. McKinley in Alaska and other high peaks of the North American West. Never mind the tots in ski boots in the parking lot and the legions of lululemon-wearing hikers - Cypress still feels extreme.
Harding's eyes are shining on this rare sunny morning as our small group sets off down the trail. A young-looking 62, with an accent that betrays his English roots, Harding got hooked on Vancouver's epic scenery while backpacking here in his 20s, selling fish-hook jewelry to fund adventures. "You can ski in the morning and kayak in the afternoon, which I still always do a few times every year, just to remind myself I'm in outdoor heaven," he says.

Our group today, in snowshoes and sporting heavy packs, might pass as intrepid outdoorsmen, but this is just a trial run, practice should we ever venture into the mountains for a real expedition. Fraught with hazards that fair-weather campers rarely face, winter camping in Vancouver is serious business. In fact, I initially had ambitions of an overnight trip.  But after watching the weather forecast with trepidation all week, wondering if my Walmart ski parka and borrowed sleeping bag would be up to the challenge, I got a reprieve.  With a storm blowing in, the grizzled trip leader, with no time for newbies, politely recommended I invest in some proper equipment and remedial training first.  Igloo 101 seemed a good place to start.

Climbing higher up Cypress under blue skies, we pass a sign posted trailside warning of avalanche country ahead – a reminder of the threats that accompany even daytrips into the backcountry.  After huffing our way up a long, snowy ridge, we're greeted with an only-in-Vancouver view: Thousands of feet below, half-hidden by shifting clouds, a cityscape of glass towers cascades toward the gray-green waters of the Pacific. Plumes of vapor billow into the air as we catch our breath. Abandoning the trail, the group crunches along to a nearby clearing flanked by pines buried to mid-trunk in snow.

Harding’s second-in-command, 31-year-old Steve Santelli, fresh off a weeklong expedition to the 18,000-foot mark of Denali in Alaska, unloads a threatening arsenal of steel shovels and snow saws with serrated teeth.  “There’s something about being in the middle of nowhere, in the freezing cold, miles from help,” he says, meditating on joys of winter camping I can’t really relate to.  With a telescoping metal probe, Harding tests the snow, prodding for rocks, trees and buried hazards with the delicate touch of a surgeon. The pole sinks down - three feet, six feet, nine feet - before sounding bottom.  When a cold suddenly wind picks up, he spreads the gospel: "Even if it's howling outside, it can be completely silent in the igloo. You'd never believe it."

Harding, in fact, has good reason to be enthusiastic. Traditional winter dwellings of Canada's Inuit, igloos are engineering marvels, having little in common with the haphazard snow caves I built as a kid. Their precision-carved blocks curve inward and upward in an elegant, self-reinforcing spiral. The dome itself is a miracle of resiliency, strong enough to support the weight of a grown man after freezing over. And they're marvelously efficient at trapping body heat. Even in polar conditions, the interior stays a relatively balmy 32 degrees Fahrenheit.

Not to mention that all the building materials are right at hand. In the 1922 documentary "Nanook of the North," a classic shot in the Canadian Arctic, amiable Inuit Nanook builds a spacious family-sized igloo, complete with ice-block picture window, with little more than an ivory knife in about an hour.
Ours will take considerably longer.

It starts with a dance. Still strapped into snowshoes, we trace a circle six feet in diameter in the snow and begin stomping. The idea is to compress layers of powder, slush and ice into a uniform pack, from which we'll quarry blocks for the igloo. We stomp on for a good 10 minutes, circling round in a snowshoe-clad jig while my Vancouver buddy Peter Walter, also new to the world of igloos, peppers the guides with questions.  “So, how about campfires inside the igloo?” he asks.  For many good and suddenly obvious reasons – melting snow, smoke, suffocation – they strongly counsel against it. 

"The snow here is fantastic because it's quite moist and sticks together easily," Harding says.  With the packing done, he shovels out a small, knee-deep cubicle in the snow and jumps in.  Flashing his saw, he carves out an inaugural block with a series of practiced strokes. It's a thing of beauty, sliding off the blade like a 20-pound slab of angel food cake.  Efforts by the rest of the team leave a little more to be desired.  Blocks crumble frustratingly and sheer off along faults lines.  But by the end of an hour, sweaty and sucking air, we've got our matériel: 50 or so glittering snow bricks. It’s time to build.
But first a lesson in Vancouver mountain weather. With impressive speed, blue skies dim down to a threatening gray. A thick mist creeps in, swaddling the valley like gauze. British Columbia's Coastal Range is the first line of defense against weather systems swirling in from the Pacific. All year long, clouds barrel in, dumping regular deluges on the peaks. Today turns out to be no exception. A light drizzle starts up, clinging to our clothes and our exposed skin, wicking away warmth. And the building has only started. 

The first blocks are critical. To get the classic dome shape, they have to lean inward like teetering Towers of Pisa.  I plant one down with a satisfying thud as Harding spreads a mortar of loose snow with a gloved hand. Other blocks follow, custom cut with the snow saw for a smooth fit and nestled edge to edge.
As we build, bundled-up couples in snowshoes and families out for a winter hike swarm the growing dome like paparazzi for smartphone photo-ops.  Kids peer inside, desperately wanting to help. A parade of dogs in sweaters sniff the perimeter and threaten to yellow our masterpiece.  "There's something magical about building a little house in the snow," Harding says, beaming pontifically for his faithful. "People love it. It's so simple and so beautiful."

By the third damp hour of construction, however, spirits are low.  My hand-me-down gloves and ski pants have soaked through and my hearty breakfast of muesli and mixed fruit is hardly holding me over.  Meanwhile, Santelli is regaling the group with a real adventure tale about the time he got crippling altitude sickness only feet from the 10,781-foot summit of Mt. Baker. Nose running shamelessly, I man up and labor on. 

A Thermos of hot tea is passed around and now, with merciful speed, things come together.  Walls rise, the dome arches higher and, finally, there's just a single skylight in the roof left to be capped. Buoyant now, Harding eyeballs a block, shaves it down and extends it to waiting hands poking through the hole.
The result is impressive: a tidy dome of uniform blocks - just like the igloos of countless Saturday morning cartoons - rising from a field of white. But it's what's inside that counts. For igloo-booster Harding, a day of  braggadocio – of igloo warmth, of comfort, of superior construction – all comes down to this. I've got my doubts.  Wriggling down the entrance tunnel in my wet gear, I'm expecting something like a dark, cold tomb.

Hardly.  The interior is radiant, flooded with light tinged blue by the dome of snow above. It's roomy enough to turn around and nearly stand up in, nothing like the claustrophobic confines of a typical tent. The sounds of the wind blowing outside are indeed muted to a whisper. Overhead, layers of snow and ice crystals meet at intricate angles, like some Baroque ceiling painting.  I'm an instant igloo convert.

After a precious few minutes of sanctuary inside, I slip back through the tunnel and out into the wet Vancouver afternoon. The winter light is fading. It's time to push down the trail.  Sadly, because the igloo might get snowed over and pose a hidden hazard for skiers, we have to demolish our creation.   A few kicks to the white walls send the new dome tumbling down, a desecration to be sure.  But, Harding promises, others will rise.     

Sidebars
Top Tips for Igloo Campers
[Note: all prices in Canadian dollars]

Safety first: Some of the best spots for igloo camping in the Vancouver mountains can also be prone to avalanches.  Before venturing into the backcountry, take an avalanche-safety course, or go with someone who has.  One-day courses start at $95 at Vancouver’s Canada West Mountain School (47 W. Broadway, Vancouver; 1-888-892-2266; www.themountainschool.com). 

Dress to impress: Staying dry and warm is top priority on any igloo camping expedition. Start with good quality long underwear made from a synthetic fiber like polypropylene (Avoid cotton, as it traps moisture). Then, layer fleece jackets and insulated pants, which can be easily stripped off during the sweaty work of raising the igloo.  Finally, waterproof, breathable outerwear – including boots, pants and a parka made from Gore-Tex or a similar fabric – is essential.  Mountain Equipment Co-op (130 W. Broadway, Vancouver; 1-604.872.7858; www.mec.ca) offers a legendary gear selection sure to impress any camping junkie. 

Igloo nutrition:  The body requires extra fuel to stay warm in icy conditions.  Grazing on chocolate, trail mix, protein bars and other calorie-rich foods throughout the day is a great way to stay nourished.  Hot soups and beverages can work wonders in raising core temperatures.  Finally, dry winter air, plus the exertion of building an igloo, can easily dehydrate the body.  Experts recommend guzzling two-four liters of water per day (Hint: Bring water bottles into your sleeping bag at night to prevent freezing). 

Staying toasty after dark: The temperature inside an igloo will always hover around zero degrees, even in arctic conditions.  But a four-season sleeping bag – rated to withstand temperatures of up to minus 20 degrees – will ensure a cozy night’s sleep.  Bring a foam or inflatable sleeping pad to keep the bag off the cold floor.  Bags and pads, as well as snowshoes, can be rented for a small charge at Vancouver’s Mountain Equipment Co-op (130 W. Broadway, Vancouver; 1-604.872.7858; www.mec.ca). 

 

Trip Notes
[Note: all prices in Canadian Dollars]

Getting there: 
Delta Air Lines flies from Sydney to Vancouver, with a stopover in Los Angeles, starting at around $1600 return. 

Staying there: 
If you won’t be spending the night in an igloo, the Fairmont Waterfront hotel (900 Canada Place Way, Vancouver; 1-866-540-4509; www.fairmont.com/waterfront) in downtown Vancouver offers great views of the Coast Mountains and their snow-capped peaks.  Rooms start at $230.

If you’d rather stay in the mountains themselves, consider the Nita Lake Lodge (2131 Lake Placid Rd., Whistler; 1-888-755-6482; www.nitalakelodge.com) a chalet-style boutique hotel – all fieldstone and exposed timbers – tucked next to an alpine lake in the nearby ski resort town of Whistler.  Suites start at $140.   

Eating there: 
Vancouver has no shortage of exceptional West Coast-style, fusion and ethnic eateries, where you can fuel up before venturing into the mountains.  Coast (1045 Alberni St., Vancouver; 1-604-685-5010; www.coastrestaurant.ca) serve fresh, local and sustainable fish in a sophisticated, urban setting downtown that is anything but a seafood shack.  Entrees from $22. 

For an elegant meal with a view of the city skyline and the mountains beyond, consider Seasons in the Park (Cambie and 33rd Ave., Vancouver; 1-604-874-8008; www.vancouverdine.com/seasons)
which specializes in Pacific Northwest cuisine including salmon, local beef and pastas.  Entrees from $21.   

See + do:  
Winter camping and igloo workshops
Michael Harding’s Westcoast Adventures (1150 Burnaby St., Vancouver; 1-604-662-7209; www.westcoast-adventures.com) offers day-long igloo-building experiences in the Vancouver mountains for $150 a person (minimum four people).  The company also hosts a variety of multi-night expeditions marketed to the “pampered” igloo camper.  Trips include chef-made meals (prepared right in your snow kitchen), dog sledding with Alaskan huskies and igloos pimped out with sheepskin rugs and tea candles ($1,092-$2,625 a person; minimum four people).  All gear is included.   

For a more rigorous introduction, Canada West Mountain School (47 W. Broadway, Vancouver; 1-888-892-2266; www.themountainschool.com) leads the popular overnight Winter Snow Camping and Igloo Building workshop ($255 a person).  Campers ski or snowshoe into the Vancouver mountains for lessons in igloo and snow cave construction, as well as training in essential winter survival skills and avalanche safety.  Cold weather gear – including four-season sleeping bags and waterproof outwear – is essential and can be rented at an additional cost.   

Where to winter camp in Vancouver
The most popular places for winter camping in Vancouver include Mount Seymour Provincial Park (Mount Seymour Road, North Vancouver; www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/mt_seymour) and Cypress Provincial Park (Cypress Bowl Road, West Vancouver; www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/cypress), both located a 30-minute drive from downtown.  Further afield, Garibaldi Provincial Park near the ski resort of Whistler (Highway 99, Squamish;  http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/garibaldi) also offers stunning alpine scenery.  In all three parks, the mountainous backcountry is extremely rugged.  Only experienced campers with avalanche training and proper equipment should attempt an overnight stay without a knowledgeable guide.