HOME IS WHERE YOU DIG IT: SNOW CAVES

Camping in the snow necessitates a fair amount of gear: thick sleeping bags and sleeping pads, reliable stoves and all the clothing needed for a cold winter’s night out. Luckily Todd Joyal is built for heavy loads. His powerful frame is the first thing you notice about him—after his shaved head and warm smile. The ex-bouncer, turned ski patroller, turned mountain safety expert hails from the tough town of Winnipeg, and even there he must be one of the toughest. He could probably pick up the Sapphire Col hut and carry it with him, but he doesn’t need to. He and his friends have mastered the art of snow caving in the Canadian Rockies, creating their own shelter anywhere they choose to travel.

“I can’t tell you how many snow caves I’ve dug in my life,” Joyal says. “Growing up in Winnipeg, it’s what we did for fun. It’s been a big part of my life.”

The most common snow shelter in Canada is said to be the quinzhee, an Athabascan term for the most basic of winter shelters. One simply makes a pile of snow and then digs into it, forming a room within. Joyal, a Metis boy who grew up playing in snow forts and never stopped, has built plenty of quinzhees. But for ski adventures, he prefers to dig snow caves by finding deep, stiff snow to carve directly into (saving the step of first piling the snow and waiting for it to set).

Joyal and his ski partners have built collections of these impermanent shelters around Banff National Park that have allowed them to explore different valleys that are rarely visited in winter. In 2015, they even connected the three ski resorts in Banff National Park by ski touring between them and sleeping in snow caves along the way.

Joyal recalls some of their best creations over the years: “We’ve stayed for a few days, up to a week in some of them. We find spots near tree line where there are deep snow drifts to dig into. Then we often return to them again weeks later.”

After a few years of perfecting their program, he says, “We got it down to a science. We could roll in at 10 p.m. and have one built with a living room, beds and smoking room in an hour or so.”

He’s joking about the smoking room, but just barely. Joyal and his partners typically dig a 2-metre square room. In the far wall, they dig a countertop for the stove and get some water boiling as soon as possible, both because you’re always trying to melt more snow for drinking in camp and because the heat created helps solidify the walls of the cave. They like to use an avalanche probe to poke a few holes through the roof above the stove for ventilation. Next they dig a bed platform on either side. These platforms act as seating while they cook or hang out and later as beds, which are slightly elevated above the main square so cold air can collect below the beds. Once that’s done, they cut a block to cover the entrance and carve shelves or ever-more-elaborate seats. Or you can dig an additional “smoking room.”

Snow caves are about the least luxurious accommodations you can find; even if you go the extra mile and dig recliner seating, set up string lights and excavate a dancefloor, you’re still sleeping in the snow—without heat. But what they lack in warmth, snow caves make up for with versatility and location. You can build them almost anywhere. That mountain face that’s too far to ski in one day? Your home for the night can be directly below it. Want to do a winter traverse in a remote range? You can stop anytime you tire and make camp right there. It’s nice not to carry the weight of a tent, as well, but most people demand a bit more comfort.