What’s a guy to do when it’s Valentines Day in Tsiigehtchic, you’re on your own, and almost everyone else has left town for “Chase the Ace” in Fort McPherson?

It was initially a toss-up between watching “Notting Hill” for the tenth time, or “Bridget Jones’ Diary,” which has been my usual past time on Valentines Day. I mulled over the options for a short while, and decided it would be too much of a shame to sit on the couch all evening.  Instead, I hauled on my snowpants, parka, hat, gloves, and scarf; grabbed a small lighter, and a shovel, and set out to build a snow shelter.

The cold feels like a blast of frost to the face every time you open the front door. It was -50C earlier this morning, cold even by northern standards. The afternoon and evening was more like -30C. I felt a nip of frost on my nose, and pulled up my scarf to keep my face sheltered from the cold.

Last weekend I’d built small snow shelter behind our school’s baseball field (the box is there to block the entrance). The baseball field is at the edge of town. Beyond it stands an endless spruce forest. There are a few trails that lead a short ways into the trees, but after that, there’s nothing but trackless forest. My shelter was at the start of one of these trails, on the proverbial edge of town (but still a literal stone’s throw from our school…). Look one way, I could see my apartment and the school. Look the other way and you could imagine being alone in the northern wilderness.

I’d made small improvements to the snow shelter over the course of the week. Last weekend I dug out a trench long enough, and deep enough, to sit in. Wednesday after school, I added a roof made from branches and a large cardboard box (found in the forest), covered in a thick layer of snow. Tonight it was time to enjoy warming-up the shelter with a small campfire.

I walked down the trail, and spotted some fallen branches a little ways into the forest. I took my first step off the trail. My foot sunk knee-deep in the snow. Once it felt secure, I took a another step, again, knee deep in the snow. It felt like wading through a shallow pool. Step, by step, I waded through the snow towards what looked like a pile of fallen branches. Some steps would sing even further. I remembered hearing that snow can form little air pockets close to the ground, for example if it piles up on a small bush, or sapling. If you step on one of those spots, your foot can sink right down to the ground, which could be three or four feet below you. A few times I must have stepped on these spots, because some steps would sink right up to my waist. When that happened, I’d bring my other foot forward, take another knee-deep step, and lift myself back up to wading through the knee-deep snow.

With all the trouble I had wading through the forest, I felt glad I was walking only thirty feet to collect firewood. It was tiring. Each step was like stepping through snow-covered quicksand. What if you were trying to hike through the forest for survival? Imagine, with no snowshoes, trying to track through the snow, falling waist deep, picking yourself up again, getting cold each time your body sinks back into the snow, lifting your foot up, wondering if you’d have enough energy to take another step. All this “survival” stuff looks so easy on TV, but when you’re here, even something small, like getting your foot caught on a twig under a pile of snow, takes warmth and energy you need to survive. With all this in mind, I was glad to be just a few steps from trail that led back to my snow shelter.

I managed to collect a good amount of branches and kindling to start a fire. I dragged my small bundle of wood back to the trail, and up to the shelter.

Once at the shelter, I made a pile of branches. I made a small pile of kindling near the opening of the shelter, and prepared the branches by breaking them into foot-long pieces. Everything got placed carefully around the kindling.

I took out the lighter, and initially had trouble getting anything more than a spark from it. This was a chilling moment. I’d felt reasonably confident in everything I’d done up to that point. Collecting firewood, and making the fire ready to start. I knew it would be hard to start a fire in -30, so I’d collected twice as much kindling as I needed, and then some extra just in case. I felt prepared with those things, but what I wasn’t expecting was for my source of flame, this little lighter, to not work out in the cold. Around me the sky was getting dark, the sun was going down, and an early-evening chill was started to fill the air. I imagined being alone in the wilderness, with shelter, sticks, and kindling, all ready to go, only to find that whatever you’d brought to start a fire didn’t work. What would you do?

Then I realized that the lighter needed to be held upright to hold a flame. Very carefully, I lit the first bit of birchbark, and watched the flame curl up and start to spread into the pile of birchbark next to it. I tucked the flames carefully under the stacked branches. Slowly the flame curled around them, and started climb up one small stick, and then curl over to another. Soon there was enough heat to feel, and moments later the flame lifted from the kindling and ignited the main branches in the pile. The flame climbed up, and the fire started crackling. I looked up at the small column of smoke lifting into the frozen night sky. I crawled into my shelter, flipped over onto my back, and started out at the warm orange glow of a little fire, burning away cheerfully in this small town, somewhere north of the Arctic Circle.

Admittedly, the fire was a bit small to provide any real warmth. I wasn’t planning on sleeping out there that night, but still, I was more than happy to watch the warm light dance along the walls of this little snow shelter.

After a little while, it was time to go back inside. I let the fire burn down for a while, and then shoveled snow onto the embers. The final plume of smoke lifted up from the fire, and vanished into the sky. The nighttime chill settled in around me. I bundled up my coat, picked up my shovel, and walked back from the shelter to my apartment.

Stepping back into the heated foyer of my place was like diving into a wave of warm air. I could still smell the cold air on my coat and scarf.

Once my coat and boots were off, I found my journal, and opened it to a new page.

“Valentines Day, 2025, lit a fire north of the Arctic Circle.”

It was late, and I still needed to make dinner. Now that I was back inside, I started thinking it might not be too late to watch a Valentine’s Day romcom. While I was mulling over those thoughts, it occurred to me that it also would have been fun to join the “Chase the Ace” crowd in Fort McPherson. True, I don’t gamble, and that was my main reason for staying in Tsiigehtchic last evening, but I realized that its not so much about the prize of the game, but about spending a social evening with people from the different communities.

“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” went well with pasta and a bowl of popcorn.

Have a great Valentines Day weekend!

<3