heads - International Regional Magazine Association (IRMA)

For these cottagers,
winter is the best
season, when a day
on the trails offers a
serene ride through
a sparkling white
landscape. And,
occasionally, a burst
of speed to get the
heart racing
SLED HEADS
By Margaret Webb Photography Gary Davidson
46 cottagelife.com
Winter 2011
Winter 2011
cottagelife.com 47
AFTER
a day of leisurely poking along on a
sledding safari through cottage-country
trails, the opportunity I have been waiting for finally presents itself: a wide-open
frozen lake. My first thought is to bury
the throttle on my rental snow machine
and go really, really fast. My next
thought: How wise would that be, given
that this is the first time I’ve been out
snowmobiling in, well, let’s just say a
few decades?
I had set out, just this morning, to
explore the sub-zero culture of sledding
after Liz and Ron Roberts invited me
along on a Saturday trail ride. Such rides
are organized each week by the Snowcrest Riders Snowmobile Club, which is
in District 7 of Ontario’s 17 snowmobile
zones, a territory better known to warmweather folks as Muskoka.
After only a few minutes of hanging
out with these self-described “hard-core
sledders,” I came to realize that there are
two types of cottagers. There are those
who start to mourn the passing of summer in, oh, about the middle of August.
Through the fall, their Sunday leaving
rituals expand to include, perhaps, the
last swim of the season, the last paddle,
the last wistful look at the sun setting
over open water.
And then there are those folks who
hear the first snap of cold in the crack
of a tree branch and their hearts start
racing, to about 7,000 rpm. That’s when
these “winter people,” as they call themselves, bring out their preferred rides—
snowmobiles—to explore the flip side of
cottage country, a dazzling white wonderland of thousands of kilometres of backcountry trails. For these cottagers, winter
stretches over three blissful seasons:
freeze-up, lotsa snow, and spring melt.
48 cottagelife.com
Winter 2011
Ron grew up snowmobiling at his parents’ cottage. In 1995, he and Liz bought
their property on Boyd Island on Kahshe
Lake, about halfway between Severn
Bridge and Gravenhurst, partly because
it’s snuggled in the heart of the Snowcrest trail system. They promptly built a
winterized cottage. Their island retreat
is a three-kilometre boat ride from the
mainland marina, and storms can delay
the crossing. But in winter, they simply
climb aboard his-and-her Ski-Doos and
zip across the frozen lake. They can even
pull a sled full of supplies up the steep
bank, right to their back door. “It’s easier
to get here then,” Liz says with a laugh.
As Ron stokes up a morning fire in
their cozy cottage and Liz serves up coffee and hot cinnamon buns, they chat
about how their family enjoys the “three
seasons of winter.” When their two children were growing up, they loved skating
on the lake soon after freeze-up, until
the snow fell too thick to shovel; sledding
the trails during high-snow season; and
then, when the snow started melting
from the trails, snowmobiling into stillfrozen swamps for campfire cookouts in
the warm March sun.
“And what do you do now that your
children are grown up?” I ask.
The empty nesters grin like teenagers.
“We don’t shovel off the lake anymore
for skating,” says Liz.
“We just sled all the time,” adds Ron.
The couple estimates that only about
a tenth of the cottagers on their lake
visit their places year-round. Liz doesn’t
get that. “You’re paying for it all year.
Why not use it?”
“Sledders are just really passionate
cottagers,” says Ron. “We want to enjoy
the lifestyle all year.” ››
Hose in hand, Ron
Roberts fuels up his
snowmobile for the
day’s ride. Ron and his
wife, Liz, bought their
property on Kahshe
Lake partly because
of its easy access to
extensive snowmobile
trails. Liz (bottom left,
in blue-and-white suit)
at a lunch stop with
fellow sledders Judy
Wayling (in yellow
helmet) and Matthew
Dove (holding a stack
of trail maps).
Winter 2011
cottagelife.com 49
To snowmobile is
to have access to a
vast number of lakes
and trails throughout
cottage country,
allowing much easier
exploration than in
the summer months.
Despite the coldweather armour and
the full-face helmets,
snowmobiling is a
very social sport.
IT’S A DAZZLING WHITE
WONDERLAND OF
BACKCOUNTRY TRAILS
50 cottagelife.com
Winter 2011
At about 10:15, we suit up. Ron and
Liz take a look at my mismatched snow
gear and supplement it with warmer
mitts and a helmet with a full face shield
to block the wind. Minutes later, we are
zooming across the lake to meet up with
the Kahshe gang at 10:30 for the day’s
trail ride—a 110-km meandering loop
that will take us east and north of
Gravenhurst, into town for lunch, and
then back to Kahshe Lake, to Nancy and
Rod Cronin’s cottage for a five-o’clock
potluck smorgasbord of appetizers.
I feel immediately comfortable on my
rental, despite the years out of the saddle.
My memories of the sport are a mixed
bag of nostalgia and frustration. I grew
up in one of the first families of snowmobiling. My father ran an ice-fishing
business on Lake Simcoe and, long before
sledding became popular in the 1970s,
my family bought two 10-hp Ski-Doos—
in 1962, the same year I was born. As far
as my older brothers were concerned,
however, the “tens” came well before me
in any family pecking order.
Through their teens, my brothers lived
for snowmobiling, but the machines then
were noisy, smelly gas guzzlers, prone to
breaking down and often brutes to steer. I
drove one into the side of my parents’ car
when the throttle stuck and another into
a creek when the darn thing wouldn’t
turn, even though I was cranking on the
handlebars. Those early machines also
got stuck a lot and were no fun to pull out
of snowbanks. Maybe for all these reasons, snowmobiling tended to be a maledominated sport back then. And little
sisters were mostly relegated to the back
seat, if they were allowed along at all. I
took up cross-country skiing.
I’m pleased to discover that sledding
has come a long way since then. As we
meet up with the gang, and folks flip up
their helmet shields in greeting, I see
that most of the riders are couples ranging in age from 20s to 70s. Almost all of
the women drive their own machines.
And what machines they are! Mine is
a 500-cc fan-cooled Grand Touring SkiDoo, packing about 50 hp, a mere pony
Winter 2011
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Winter 2011
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SLEDDERS ARE JUST
BIG KIDS WHO STILL
PLAY IN THE SNOW
compared to upper-end 800- to 1,000-cc
sleds with 160 to 170 hp. Still, it floats
over the trails like a luxury SUV on a rough
cottage road and actually turns when I
want it to. When little pools of warmth
seep into my mitts, I realize that, wondrously, the handlebars are heated.
A lot has changed under the hood as
well. In 2002, the United States Environmental Protection Agency introduced
tough new emissions standards, which
were adopted by Environment Canada.
By 2012, the phased-in standards will
have slashed hydrocarbon and carbondioxide emissions by more than 90 per
cent from pre-2002 levels. Plus, capped
at 73 dB at 50 ft., snowmobiles are now
quieter—hair dryers make more noise
than some of these engines. And though
some machines can hit speeds well in
excess of 100 km/h, this group is more
into bragging about the fuel efficiency of
newer-generation four-stroke and twostroke direct-injection engines. Some
sleds get about 340 km per tank—today’s
trip will cost about $10 in gas.
As we wait at the starting point for
stragglers, I chat with Michael Wayling,
who organizes these weekend rides,
and his wife, Judy. The Waylings have
been sledding for 40 years and are just
back from a snowmobile trip to the
French River with their adult sons and
their families. They are off again next
week to the Gaspé Peninsula for six days.
“We like to go out on a trip every single weekend,” Michael tells me. “We like
to explore. You wouldn’t believe how much
of Ontario we’ve seen by snowmobile.
And the winter scenery is just beautiful.”
As serious as Michael is about his
sport, I find it difficult to take him seriously. He is wearing a brand-new snowsuit, with all the tags still attached. He
looks like a Christmas present from an
absent-minded grandmother. Someone
walks by and tugs on a tag: “Trying to
show off how much you paid for it?”
54 cottagelife.com
Winter 2011
“That’s so I can return the suit in the
spring,” Michael jokes.
I deduce that sledders join trail-riding
clubs and travel in packs because they
are freakishly friendly. They also love
nothing better than to give any whiff of
pretension a serious smackdown. They
kibitz and tease until everyone has
arrived, then gloved hands begin twirling
in the air as if calling for a roundup, and
suddenly everyone is climbing on their
machines and we’re off.
We ride single file along a groomed
trail that enters a lush pine forest. It
twists and turns, corkscrews around trees
and rocky outcroppings, swings up hill
and down dale. It’s a two-way track—
we can meet other sledders at any turn
and often do—so we ride at a subdued
pace, 30 to 40 km/h or so, that could
do serious damage to the speed-demon
stereotype of sledders.
Indeed, organized snowmobiling
has come a long way in improving both
the safety and manners of the sport.
At roadways, the lead sledder performs
crossing-guard duties. An experienced
sledder rides at the front, another at the
back. Riders communicate information
about the trail back through the group
with a set of internationally recognized
hand signals (none of them rude). We
stay well within the trail speed limit,
50 km/h unless otherwise posted.
Most folks in the club tell me that
they sled for the scenery rather than for
speed, and they aren’t kidding. Every
time we pass something jaw-dropping—
waterfalls gushing through ice-crusted
banks, high craggy cliffs overlooking
windswept lakes—we stop to soak up the
splendour. And to chat and tease.
After an hour or so of riding, I begin to
develop an itch in my throttle finger, but
I try to distract myself by concentrating
on the scenery, which is spectacular,
even though winter draws her glory from
a minimalist {�Continued on page 95�}
GET RIDING
Start ’em early! Young
sledder Jacob Keeling,
top right, enjoys the
day on the trail with
his parents, Greg and
Jackie. One of the
jokesters in the group,
Nancy Cronin, provides
some entertainment—
snow angels, anyone?
TRAIL PERMITS Snowmobilers must
purchase trail permits from the Ontario
Federation of Snowmobile Clubs, available through local clubs or the OFSC
website, $200 before Dec. 1 ($250 after).
Adults must have a valid driver’s
licence to operate a snowmobile on the
trails; those without a licence, and
children ages 12 to 16, can get a Snow
Vehicle Operator’s Licence by taking
driver training offered by the OFSC.
Those under 12 can operate a sled only
on their own property. The permit
comes with a trail guide and discounts
on everything from insurance, hotel
stays, and restaurant meals to hot tubs.
RIDE SAFE The OFSC produces safety
information packages, and it offers
driver training for youth and adults.
Learn the hand signals for the trail at
cottagelife.com/snowmobiling.
TRIP PLANNING AND TOURING INFO
Many clubs maintain websites and
Facebook pages with trail and social
information. As well, go to the OFSC
site, ofsc.on.ca, and Ontario Tourism’s
sledding site, gorideontario.ca/snow.
MEET OTHER RIDERS Clubs often organize weekend rides, or you can join in
on a fundraising event, such as a local
Snowarama for Easter Seals Kids (held
on various dates in January and February at locations across Ontario) or the
Sled Ride of Hope for prostate cancer
(Feb. 18, 2012). The OFSC website lists
other club events.
Winter 2011
cottagelife.com 55
SLED HEADS
{�Continued from page 54�}
palette. A fresh dump of snow has coated
the trees in thick, downy puffs. As we
emerge onto frozen lakes, the sky wears
a stunning cobalt blue while a blazing
sun scatters glistening gems in the snow.
Then, moments later, we are back into
the hushed, evergreen embrace of forest.
As we float along the trails, my attention focusses on the cocoon of my helmet, which mutes the hum of the engine
and the sounds of the world. It’s the perfect headpiece for thinking. That’s when
this thought occurs to me: Maybe summer people don’t get winter because they
don’t get winter toys. Skis, snowshoes,
and skates are the winter equivalents of
sailboats, canoes, and kayaks. And the
snowmobile is really the counterpart to
the powerboat—it gets you places fast or
slow, as you wish.
But unlike summer people, whose
activities are mostly limited to their cottage lakes, sledders can explore nearly
35,000 km of maintained, interconnected
trails, and that’s just in Ontario, which
happens to have the largest network of
recreational trails in the world. Many
also use their sleds to access favourite
backcountry spots to ski, snowshoe, enjoy
a cookout, take pictures, or watch birds
and other wildlife—or to scoot across the
lake to visit other winter people for dinner. In my reverie, I recall what Ron told
me before we set out: Sledders are just
big kids who still like to play in the snow.
For her part, Liz gave the sport a Zen
spin, telling me that one of the things she
likes best about sledding is that it provides oodles of glorious, uninterrupted
think-time.
“So what do you think about?” I asked.
Liz paused for a moment. “Lunch!”
Fantastic, now all my musings about
the grandeur of the backcountry and
the potential of sledding to transform
cottages into four-season resorts fade
to a singular vision: food. Snowmobiling
offers a moderate workout, which you
can ramp up by throwing your body into
the turns and getting up on your legs to
ride the bumps in the trail. And chilly
winter air adds to the calorie burn.
Our snake line of 13 sleds slows as we
enter a clearing and brakes amidst a
clump of about 10 other sleds. I wonder,
hopefully, Is this our lunch stop? But
no, our super-friendly club has simply
paused to chat with another tribe of
super-friendly sledders. I get off my
machine to mingle, marvelling that virtually every snowmobile is black; virtually everyone wears a black suit and
helmet. A rookie like me, who locates her
sled after pit stops by waiting until all
the other riders have climbed on theirs,
could really get disoriented here.
Suddenly, those gloved hands are
twirling in the air and both groups are
taking off at once. I jump on the one
machine left behind. Ahead of me, one
group veers left, the other right. I have
a fifty-fifty chance of getting this right.
And then I spot the one blue-and-white
snowsuit in the lot and follow it: Liz’s.
Next stop, at last, is lunch, at Boston
Pizza in Gravenhurst, which has a great
view of the waterfront (where really
freaky winter people are mountain biking). Like many restaurants along trails,
this one offers a 10 per cent discount for
sledders, plenty of room in the parking
lot for our machines, and lots of sitting
room for our large group, which has
grown by one after 15-year-old Blake
Schofield joined us at one of our many
scenery stops.
A local teen, Schofield has racked up a
number of youth awards for volunteering,
most recently a national award from the
Canadian Council of Snowmobile Organizations, recognition for his countless
hours of clearing trails of deadfall, erecting trail stakes on frozen lakes, patrolling
trails, and testing ice—tasks the Ontario
Federation of Snowmobile Clubs relies
on thousands of volunteers to do. What
really impresses me, though, is that Schofield considers us middle-aged scenesters cool enough to ride with. When I
point that out, he shrugs. “Everyone’s
really nice. They bought my lunch.”
Sledding really does bring together
all ages. Greg and Jackie Keeling brought
along their young son, Jacob, and Judy
and Michael Wayling’s adult son and
grandson sledded with us until lunch.
The sport also brings together Kahshe
Lake locals and cottagers. Bob Clarke, a
full-time resident and also president of
the Snowcrest Riders, is here with his
wife, Sandi, and also his “Cougar”—“As
in Arctic Cat,” he amends with a cough,
referring to his machine. “Belonging to a
club, the volunteering, it forms a strong
social network,” he tells me. “It also
helps newcomers learn about trails, conditions, and safety from more experienced sledders.”
Over lunch, Bob talks up the club’s
fundraising initiatives: Snowarama for
Easter Seals Kids and the Sled Ride of
Hope for prostate cancer. He tells me
proudly that snowmobiling pumps some
$3 million into the Gravenhurst economy each winter. Sandi chimes in, “I
would hate to see what would happen
to this town without sledders.”
Mercifully, there is no talk about what
I remembered as a major topic of my
brothers’ après-sled chats: breakdowns.
Ron says modern machines require little
more than fall and spring maintenance,
and rarely break down.
Interesting, I think. I ask Judy about
the cost to get into the sport, including
a ride a little peppier than my hulking
rental (which cost $260 for the day, plus
gas and delivery charges). Judy suggests
about $10,000 to buy a new machine,
cheaper for used. She tacks on another
thousand for a helmet and clothing—
well, unless you’re Michael Wayling and
try to take everything back in the spring.
After lunch, the gang makes a beeline
back to Kahshe Lake, to give people time
to drop in at their cottages and pick up
appetizers before the potluck gathering
at the Cronins’. We reach the wide-open
lake in no time, and the moment of decision is upon me: Slow down and soak
in the last few kilometres of my ride or
heed the call of that wildly seductive,
beckoning white expanse? “Wild thing,”
I think I heard it say. The grin on my
face hitches itself from ear to ear, and I
sink the throttle to the handlebar and
hold my speed until I run out of lake.
Back at the Cronins’ cottage, my lead
finger gives the Kahshe gang plenty to
tease me about. I feel right at home.a
Margaret Webb won a silver national culinary book award for her first book, Apples
to Oysters: A Food Lover’s Tour of Canadian Farms. She has spent the past decade
of summers cottaging in Nova Scotia’s
Annapolis Valley.
Want to get started? For links to trail
information, events, clubs, and hand signals,
go to cottagelife.com/snowmobiling
Winter 2011
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