Editorial and photo by Marlene Wandel
All I want for Christmas is two feet of snow, but I’m worried it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, the 2023 version. This beautiful, warm fall has been dreadful, in the most literal sense; the thought of a repeat of last year’s winter-that-wasn’t is daunting. Thunder Bay has a reputation of long, deep winters, and though winter has arrived late enough to lament a green Christmas before, the failed winter of 2023 was a different story. The relentless onslaught of warmth after the few meagre snow events meant more than a break from shoveling driveways. Complaining about shoveling snow is one beloved winter pastime, but many of us also like to recreate on snow once we make it out the driveway.
Newcomers and visitors to the north shudder at the prospect of up to six months of cold and snow, but it’s the sustained cold that creates conditions for a winter we can actually enjoy. Winter recreation in the north is part of our identity; we don’t go outside despite the winter weather, we go outside because of it. The activities that take place on snow and ice define us and provide a welcome change of scene from the drab November landscape. When snow doesn’t come and the ice doesn’t form, something is missing. For some, that’s purely recreational, while for those working in snow-dependent industries and ice roads it’s more serious. We eked out some winter recreation last year in dribs and drabs, but not without heroic efforts. Ski hills made mountains out of molehills with their snow guns right up to the last week of the season, no doubt at great cost. Cross-country skiers joined forces to shovel snow onto the trails just to maintain a skiable base. Snowmobile trail grooming has been hit and miss in the past few years, as gobs of snow fall on unfrozen creeks or the snow doesn’t come at all. The winter-without-winter was the longest of all, because there just wasn’t that much to do except watch the forecast and wring hands in despair.
This year’s warm fall likely isn’t the harbinger of the death of winter forever, but it is a reminder that things are changing. Two years ago we were drowning in snow in April. We don’t know if the heavy load of mountain ash berries means we’ll get a tonne of snow or very little, or if The Farmer’s Almanac accounts for climate change. For those of us waiting (im)patiently for the return of winter sports, the best we can do is buy our hill memberships and trail passes anyway, so when the white stuff finally does come, we’ve still got someone to groom the trails.
