Elk Lakes Cabin is a great winter getaway for folks who like to put a little bit of work into getting to the destination. If there’s something Canada is known for, it might be winter. It also might be beer or it may, in fact, be duct tape. But, for the sake of this post, let’s say it’s winter. There are three types of people in Canada in the winter.

First, there are the Hunkerdowns. They can be spotted in grocery stores in October stockpiling soups and teas, and won’t likely be seen again until spring. To the hunkerdowns, winter is an evil to be avoided. The hunkerdown dream is to buy a condo in Phoenix.

In contrast, there are the Tallyhos. The head-to-toe wool is a dead giveaway. Lured outdoors by glittery reflections on the snow, their giant white smiles are swallowed up by the snowscapes that surround them. Snow cakes the edges and corners of their attire. Steam clouds follow them as they plow through drifts of powder.

Elk Lakes Cabin

Just before Covid took over our lives, Tiffany and I returned to Elk Lakes Cabin along with eight other tallyho types of women. The cabin is nestled just south of Upper Kananaskis Lake. An 11+ km trip from the Elk Pass trailhead, it’s a quick ski or long snowshoe trip to get there. The cabin is operated by the Alpine Club of Canada.

Starting from the trailhead, the snowshoe path meanders through the woods, crisscrossing the groomed cross-country ski tracks. After a couple of kilometres, the trail climbs up a steep hill, then runs parallel to a long stretch of hydroline.

Breaking Trail Towards Elk Lakes Cabin

Continuing along the hydroline towards the British Columbia border, be prepared to put in some extra work to break the trail. Both times I have done this trip, there were several feet of untouched snow covering the snowshoe trail. There is a groomed cross-country ski trail alongside the snowshoe trail, but it is considered poor etiquette to snowshoe on those sections.

Obviously several kilometres of post-holing in snowshoes can put some serious wear and tear on your legs. So, take turns being at the front of the line and go as slow as you need to.

There are no groomed trails once you cross into British Columbia. After another stretch under the hydroline, the path meanders on a gradual decline through the woods and down to the cabin. If you’re slow like me, you might see smoke escaping the chimney, signaling that your friends have already changed into their booties and started the fire.

Cabin in the Woods

There is something special about arriving at a cabin in the middle of the wilderness after a long day of snowshoeing. Simple comforts like shelter and fire and a propane stove are bewildering in a way that insists upon gratitude.

Socks drying by the fire. The miracle of a box of cake mix. A never ending pot of boiling snow water. When contrasted with city life, backcountry notions of extravagance are so gloriously simple; it’s therapeutic.

A comically large pot of chili is devoured. Flasks of liquor and bottles of wine are passed around, everyone dutifully drinking their share to ensure a lighter trip back.

Laughter and the smell of damp wool fill the cabin. One by one, people disappear to bed. The last person awake throws a couple of extra logs on the fire, and the sounds of sleep prevail.

Tally Ho and Sally Forth

The morning brings a bustle of breakfast and packing and cleaning and more packing. Hearts are full and minds are clear for the trudge back to the trailhead. The last kilometres are mentally and emotionally stretched by physical fatigue.

A twinge of sadness hits as the car pulls out of the parking lot and heads back to the city. Gas station chips and soda dull those feelings, but the longing to return settles into the soul permanently.

That tallyho mentality is reinforced by the visual memories of winter wonder that circle above the bed as the body’s exhaustion gives way to a long and hard night of sleep. In the morning, it will be back to the realities of home and family and work. And planning for the next adventure.

The Buds

I know what you’re thinking. What’s the third type of person in Canada in the winter? They are the buds. The truest of flannel-clad, beer-drinking, duct-tape-fixing Canadians. At this very moment, some bud is phoning up someone named Mike or Darcy, asking to borrow a bigger pair of channel locks in exchange for a couple beers.

They’ll stand around in -20 temperatures, hands in their jeans, and stare at a car that doesn’t run for a couple of hours. When dusk starts to settle in around 4 p.m., they might head to the closest rink for a quick game of shinny before dinner.

When it comes to winter, they are completely, perfectly, blissfully unaware.

To find more winter adventures in British Columbia, check out this article: 5 Things to Do in Winter at Kicking Horse in Golden, BC.