S.M.M. Winter Trek 2026

After more than a decade of waiting for the right winter trek conditions to coincide, a weekend in February 2026 they finally did! Snow, cold and SMM’ers with time to spend on the ground. Man have I missed it!

Like often before, the initial plans and ambitions for the event had to adapt and reshape due to obstacles along the way. Instead of a bunch of SMM’ers in a base camp we ended up being two on a trek. Instead of two nights we ended up with one etc. A compromise documented as follows:

Saturday - February 21

Peter arrived at my place around 10 AM. We started with a quick cup of coffee and a surprisingly easy game of Tetris played by fitting our winter gear (including two toboggans) in a normal sized car by Swedish standards. Squeezing ourselves in there as well, we were finally in our time machine set for north and back in time all at once. The car thermometer made us a bit nervous though. After months of freezing temps, it said we were now on the verge of thawing. What the hell! We crossed our fingers the last miles uphill would help the snow stay cold and dry. For those that haven’t tried, the combination of moccasins and thawing snow is interesting. Let’s just say I prefer dry and cold.

We were lucky! Not only was the snow cold enough to stay dry, it also presented a perfect crust to carry toboggans and snowshoes. It reminded of a painting by Peter Rindisbacher, or its long title rather: “Indian hunters pursuing the buffalo early in the spring when the snow is sufficiently frozen to bear the men but the Animals break through and cannot run”.

Long titled Peter Rindisbacher painting, C-114467 Library and Archives Canada

Last adjustments before heading out.

We packed our toboggans and took the final and literal step back in time by switching from modern shoes to moccasins, locking up the steel mule and pulling our toboggans into the woods. Woods well known from previous SMM adventures.

We followed a small creek until it joined a larger stream (still a creek though). This stream is surrounded by a semi marshland or flood meadow that runs through the valley. With a little snow and thick ice on the creek it becomes a veritable highway for snowshoes and toboggans.

We saw tracks of roe deer, moose, marten, fox, hare and a bunch of other critters. While studying one of them next to a spot of open running water I became reckless stepping out on the ice resulting in me going straight through. I know better than that! But through I went. Luckily I was able to bounce right back up again, so I was only down to my knees for a millisecond. My inner moccasins and leg wraps of thick wool blanket kept the water out, so besides the fright there was no real damage done. It did make us slightly more cautious though.

It didn’t take all that long to find our predesignated camp spot. Too soon with such splendid conditions we thought. So we lightened the load by parked our toboggans and continued down the creek scouting more of the area.

Back at the toboggans daylight said we should make camp, and our stomachs said it was time to refuel. One of the amazing aspects of this area is the fire wood. There’s always plenty of dead pine trees standing tall and dry with a core of turpentine smelling pitch pine that makes amazing log fires even in super wet conditions. So while Peter gathered spruce boughs enough to cover the ground and with a thick layer I gave my office working hands some new blisters while felling, chopping and splitting firewood for the night. We got the tarp up in a very nice way that protected both us, our gear and the fire. Soon the sound of flint and steel showering sparks over tinder turned into the crackling sound of dry spruce twigs catching fire. Peter filled a kettle of rice and boudins* that soon gave us the fuel we needed with daylight left for another small excursion.

Entering the flood meadows.

A refreshing bath

Boudins cooking!

With this being the first decent winter around here in more than a decade, our snowshoes said they needed some more exercise. Another trot along the creek looking for “sign” was a perfect way to work up some heat before trapping it underneath thick blankets and robes for the night.

By now weather was turning damp. Real damp. Back at camp we could hear the rain smatter against our tarp sealing. Luckily the bed of embers was now established enough to bring out the logs and get some serious heat going. More boudin stew, creek water and quite a few zips of whiskey while discussing past, present and future made a very pleasant evening until yawning started replacing every other word that was said. It was time for that last bedtime pee before putting on a dry pair of moccasins and crawl down the robe for the night.

Sunday – February 22

As always, a night in the woods is seldom a night of uninterrupted sleep. One of the times I woke up I was sure it was my bladder starting it’s traditional morning battle. But taking a deep breath, I realized it was more than that. It was a weather change! The smattering sound of rain was gone, Peter, who I managed to wake up wrestling my way out, said his nose indicated a temperature drop to way below freezing. That meant it was now safe to pee without getting wet feet from wet snow, it also promised another good and possibly sunny morning to pull a toboggan.

With a fresh fire going, coffee and more boudins in our systems we started to pack up and prepare for the trail. When everything was nicely wrapped and tied up in tarps it was hard to tell if we were pulling dead bodies or camp gear.

With such nice weather we decided a detour was in place to postpone civilization. One last scout south along the creek before turning back north towards the iron mule. Easy horizontal going until we left the creek and entered the forest where we had to work against a slight uphill for the last mile or so. A good sweat!

Another game of Tetris, modern shoes back on and we were again headed back to the future after a great winter trek. Waugh!

/Char

"Bring out yer dead"

Uphill!

Sketches: Click here to see more sketches from the trek.

* boudins – pronounce Bo-Dan, a category of sausage often found in French speaking cultures. In a mountain man context George Frederick Ruxton describes them in his "Wild Life in the Rocky Mountains.":

"On slaughtering a fat cow, the hunter carefully lays by, as a tit-bit for himself, the boudins and medullary intestine, which are prepared by being inverted and partially cleaned (this, however, is not thought indispensable).

The depouille or fleece, the short and delicious hump-rib and tenderloin, are then carefully stowed away, and with these the rough edge of the appetite is removed.

But the course is, par excellence, the sundry yards of boudin, which, lightly browned over the embers of the fire, slide down the well-lubricated throat of the hungry mountaineer, yard after yard disappearing in quick succession."

In another passage from the same book Ruxton talks of two mountaineers doing a “Lady and the Tramp ” inspired contest by eating away at opposite ends of a cooked intestine boudin. Every now and then trying pull more from the opponents mouth.