I got myself into a bit of a situation on Sunday that I was able to manage with what I think was a pretty good idea, and figured I’d share in case it helps someone out.
I was running a trail (crushed gravel main trail plus singletrack offshoots) that had some nasty flooding a few weeks back - it’s along the Speed and Grand Rivers, with an amazing lookout at the confluence of the two.
(It faces roughly west, so is very popular at sunset - you can see deer, beaver, muskrat, minks, herons, swans, bald eagles, osprey, red tailed hawks, snow geese, Canada geese, and all manner of ducks)
It was -13c (6f) and snowing hard. The trails were beautiful, but I could still hear ice shifting under the snow as I toddled along.
The flooding had frozen then receded, leaving voids below the ice that make it unsafe; same reason municipal stormwater management/drainage ponds have warnings about going out on their ice. 10cm/4” of thickness is safe to walk on when supported by water, but needs to be much thicker to be safe when an air pocket has opened below.
I noped out on one bit of singletrack - there’s a small pond there that had jumped its banks last time I was down, and I could see broken slabs of ice over it with no clear way through or around.
So that was me being smart by not risking a slab of ice shifting and either hurting me (I’d already stepped into a hole and sort of banged the front of my ankle on a big chunk of ice hidden under the snow), or dumping me into water and risking hypothermia.
(I was heavily dressed but the wind and snow were pretty vicious)
So, heading back, I got stupid - I took the singletrack that goes right along the riverbank. I got about 3/4km into it before I remembered it had also been flooded at the bottom of the fairly steep ramp up to the main trail right by the confluence lookout. I didn’t really have time to go back, as I had a hockey game that afternoon. As I looked ahead, I saw the trail disappear under the river ice..
I was able to move uphill a bit and pick my way through the trees - walking carefully and testing each step - but soon it became impossible to proceed without traversing the ice.
My self-rescue picks were unhelpfully sitting at home. I had nothing except a small water flask and my cellphone with me. I could call for help, but would I be able to manage that if I’d fallen through the ice? Would my hands work, or my brain?
My husband had been out for a walk on the same trail, but turned back quickly when he realized his gloves were wet and his fingers were freezing up - he was back at the trailhead. So, I pulled out my phone and called him: I put the phone on speaker, told him exactly where I was, and explained that I had to traverse the river ice. I asked him to stay on the phone with me, and if I stopped responding or he heard sounds of cracking or splashing to call 911. I carefully picked my way through, hearing ominous creaks..
(This was further back - you can see some broken-off slabs of ice along the river bank at centre left)
It seemed to take forever as I inched forward, my feet sliding occasionally on slanted ice under the snow - I almost thought I’d missed the rampway up to the main trail. I landmarked off an island at the confluence, though, and suddenly..
I thanked my husband for hanging on the line with me until I was safe once more, and told him I’d see him in 15mins or less.
So my pro tip is: if you get yourself into a dicey situation that might preclude the possibility of you being able to call for help, make the call in advance! Just chat with someone - your partner, a friend, a parent - to whom you can give your position and situation, for them to call emergency services in case you drop off the line. Best case scenario you just have a nice little chat and laugh a bit about being silly enough to get yourself into something sketchy - worst case scenario you’re taking action to save your own life, and give those who love you some peace of mind.
(* Of course this assumes that you have cellular coverage and sufficient battery. Charge that sucker before heading out when conditions are rough, and keep it in a warm pocket to keep it from freezing the battery!)
* originally published as a forum post 2026-Jan-26
We're finally starting to get some winter in our winter!
After a distinct lack of it
I know it's not everyone's cup of tea - and I don't always enjoy it myself - but I really do miss the snow in the years we don't get much.
I like a little more than just a dusting
This week seems to be the ticket, though: I finally had some decently snowy running on Sunday!
Helping cover up the dull brown and grey that everything has turned
The colder weather has also led to some really neat ice formations along the rivers in town.
Twigs looking like fat dipped candles below the Hespeler Millpond dam
I had kind of a pleasant morning run through the snow on Tuesday..
..though it was definitely a little tougher than it would have been with clear ground.
I also had a truly horrible run in the mixed precipitation later that same afternoon.
Not overjoyed
To be fair, the streets were a disgusting mess of slush by then, with each road crossing a nightmare of deep slush puddles.
Add in no less than 3 vehicles splashing me with slush from ankle to thigh, and I would honestly have rather taken the heckin' bus
Things settled down a bit after another dump of snow (that fell on me as I actually was walking up to catch the bus towards my office) on Thursday, and some new friends appeared!
This one was a little too small for a hug
There's more coming tonight, though, and I have high hopes that soon I'll finally be able to get the snowshoes out for a rip!
Which would be nice, with a snowshoe race I'd quite like to do coming up in just a few weeks
I'd also love to get our cross-country skis out - it's been nearly a year since we had the chance to kick and glide.
We certainly won't be skiing on the river any time soon, though.
And yet...as much as I do love a snowy day, what I'd really like to see is some sun. The last time I was outdoors in sunshine was December 15th; almost a full month ago.
This is the closest I've come since - looking out my front door on Jan 4th, but had no time to get outside
Stay safe in the storm tonight for those who will be affected, and cross your fingers that the sun still exists!
While I don't think we had quite so many days of snow as last year, we definitely had more big snowfalls - 10cm/4" or more at a time - than I can remember in the past couple of decades. As for the sun? It seemed to go into hibernation.
Fortunately, we can put it all behind us, because SPRING arrived this week!
Almost worth losing an hour of sleep!
The Rare Charitable Research Reserve singletrack is back open, so I got to say hello to some old friends - by which I mean trails - on my run down to the market on Saturday.
While the weather alternated between blinding sun and blinding snowsqualls
It came up sunny in the afternoon, though, so I did my first double since the end of the 100 in 100 at beautiful Shade's Mills Conservation Area.
I did the 101 runs in 100 days that I'd aimed for. I decided early on just to take it (relatively) easy, and I'm glad I did.
Sunday was more pleasant still - despite a bit of nasty, gusty wind, I actually had a wonderful traipse through the woods on another trail I'd not seen in some while.
..after the morning's snowsqualls had blown away.
Since then, the temperatures have risen, and I've even been able to get out here and there jacketless and with some exposed skin.
Gasp!
Of course it's not all good news: with the thawing due to sun and overnight freeze happening virtually every day, the ice has been pretty nasty in some places.
I'm sure happy I have traction devices
Even spikes can be somewhat of an issue with the milder temperatures: there's been a lot of mixed ice, snow, and mud out there, which can lead to this.
Not exactly helpful for traction
..but I'm greatly looking forward to clear trails without lumpy, crusted ice and snow. It's been a tough one for my hips, knees, and ankles this year, and I kind of need those.
Especially since this continues to be a thing
So even though there's a freezing rainstorm on the way for tomorrow morning, I'll trust that there are better things ahead!
For breakfast, I decided to make an attempt at getting us kicked out of the country.
Found this gluten free haggis and added some eggs
Robbie Burns might turn in his grave at haggis'n'egg breakfast burritos, but they were magnificent!
With happy, full bellies and lightening skies, we decided to go for a quick wander down the trail that led toward the mountains from the layby in which we'd parked up for the night.
Who could resist going exploring?
The path crosses a little burn (Scottish word for a stream or creek) that drains into Lochan na Fola
As we wandered along heading toward Buachaille Etive Beag (translates to "The Little Shepherd/Herdsman of Etive") - a ridge with multiple peaks, with the point of Stob nan Cabar showing in front above - the path drew up alongside beautiful River Coupall, with stunning falls along its red granite course
Yowza
Walking through the glen (valley) between the impressive peaks, the path just followed the river
..and we started to get ideas.
We found a spot where a shoulder of rock jutted out into the river, providing both an entry and a seat.
I think you can see where this leads
Had the two moka pots of coffee not had their intended effect, we were definitely wide awake after stepping into the frigid water!
The word "bracing" definitely applied
Call it our Scottish baptism, as it hadn't yet rained on us
A few minutes were enough, though - Tank said he was losing the feeling in his toes!
All with good cause, though!
We hadn't brought a towel to dry our feet, but fortunately we had both worn wool socks, so we just popped them on and immediately began to warm up again.
She's just over that ridge, with Stob Mhic Mhartuin looming in the distance beyond
With all things battened down for movement, it was back on the road west again on the A82.
With me snapping photos like crazy
Tank was feeling more comfortable in the driver's seat after a proper night of sleep, so we were able to relax a bit more and take in the views.
Though some of the narrower sections with rock walls adjacent were a bit stressful
We also didn't have very far to travel to our final destination for the evening, and stopped multiple times to have a look at things.
Like the Meeting of the Three Waters
Tanker for scale
The Grampian Mountains rose all around us, glowing green and streaked with flowing streams and beautiful waterfalls everywhere.
The Three Sisters of Glencoe
Seeing it approaching, we stopped in at the Glencoe Visitor Centre for a poke around.
Neat wooden sculpture at the entrance
It was fairly busy, though, so we just used the toilets, hit up the gift shop, and got on our way.
I didn't buy this, but I already heartily agreed with its sentiment
Soon we came to the actual town of Glencoe, where we departed from the A82 to take the B863 along the southern shore of Loch Leven.
Our first look at the loch
We followed its shore east for most of its length
The B road was narrower and wound through more curves than the A82, but Tank was getting to know how Mindy handled by this point, and there was much less traffic.
She ran like a champ for us!
Arriving in Kinlochleven, we headed straight to an old stone building we'd heard about almost a year beforehand, with hope high in our hearts.
It seemed promising that there were only a couple of vehicles in the lot outside..
When I'd read that the National Ice Climbing Centre for the UK - with the world's biggest indoor ice climbing walls - was only 45mins from the Ben Nevis area, I knew I wanted to give it a shot. However, I'd been completely unable to get their availability calendar to load properly for me, so had no idea if we'd be able to swing it. We walked into Ice Factor at about 1:40pm on a Monday afternoon and inquired if we'd be able to do an ice climbing "taster" session, which was an hour of instruction and climbing with all kit provided. I mentioned that we hadn't been able to get the calendar to load to book ahead, and received a smile from the gent at the desk that made me ask if it was a common problem: he told me with good-natured resignation that "things in the Highlands work either slowly, or not at all". We were absolutely delighted, however, when instructor Harrison said he was available, and we could start at 2pm! The staff did make sure we had more appropriate clothing than what we were wearing (shorts/knicks and tshirts would not be great in the -2c/29f ice room!), but we assured them that we had a campervan full of warm clothing to change into, and popped outside to do just that.
Into pants, long sleeves, a sweater, and a vest, with a tubular gaiter over my ears (for both warmth and to make sure my rings wouldn't catch on anything), and a pair of gloves in my pocket, then back inside for one more wee before getting into kit.
First a climbing harness, then on with the heavy boots with crampons already attached
These ain't no microspikes - proper mountaineering/glacier kit
Helmets on, then into the ice room where we were provided with our ice tools and Harrison got us acquainted with their use.
Ready to give it a whack!
We started by just placing and swinging the tools into the ice from the ground, then Harrison taught us about footwork and had us start to take a few un-roped steps up off the ground to get comfortable.
I won't go into details of technique, as I'd hate for anyone to think they were ready to go climb ice based on something they read here
Tank had an issue with one of his crampons coming loose, so I got a bit of extra practice while he and Harrison went to sort it out.
Tank with it in his hand here - wouldn't that make it a crampoff?
With a new boot and crampon on, it was go time!
Tank preparing for his first ascent
I had an absolute ball with this - I quickly learned that it was much easier to place my tools in an existing hole in the ice and give a swing with them only when necessary, and got the hang of pushing my hips into the wall to move up. We both did the short little teaching pitch first, with an easy rappel/abseil down.
Touching down from my first climb
Then we moved over to a much taller pitch near the front wall, where we each climbed as high as we wished.
Tank was killing it
My forearms were screaming
The most hilarious part was after I'd rapped back down, I mentioned to Harrison that the ice at the top had almost no existing holes, and I'd needed to swing my ice tools a lot more (rather than just placing) them in order to make progress, to which he responded "Most people don't get up that high.."
Tank decided that two pitches was enough for him, but Harrison gave me the opportunity to try a third with a bit of a twist to it. I was happy to give it a whirl!
He was also kind enough to get a photo of the two of us in the ice room at the end of our session - I definitely think an hour was plenty for a first try, at least while still a bit jetlagged; my forearms and wrists were quite worn out from gripping the ice tools. Harrison was a fantastic instructor, though, and I was overjoyed at having had the opportunity for such an awesome experience!
Highly recommended if you're ever in the Kinlochleven area - I hear they have a second location in Glasgow now, too
Emerging from the ice room felt like walking into a tropical rainforest, so we quickly stripped off our insulated vests and sweaters, thanking the staff profusely for accommodating us as we wandered back out to the van. The weather outside didn't seem to warrant changing again, though, so we stayed in our trousers and long sleeves as we got back on the road.
..and what a road it was!
I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to wrap my head 'round the views in the Highlands
..or seeing road signs written in both English and Gaelic.
We made a stop in Fort William to hit a couple of outfitters - I'd been looking for a light rain jacket that wasn't quite so full-on as my Gore Tex Pro hardshell for a few years, and figured where better to find one than in Scotland's outdoor playground town? - then carried on to our final destination for the day.
Where we'd be spending the next few days, actually.
We got ourselves pitched up, and looked up past the van toward one of Scotland's most iconic views.
No photo can ever do it justice
We'd have more dealings with that enormous hunk of rock later. For now it was time to have ourselves a bite of dinner, and prepare for the challenges the next day would hold. We'd need some good sleep to take advantage of a weather window that had opened for us, and so after a hearty bowl of pasta it was off to brush our teeth and get ready to turn in.
Cozy dining in our tiny home
Fortunately, the incessant bleating of the sheep across the river wasn't enough to keep us from sleeping, and my new rain jacket kept me perfectly dry on the rather damp walk to and from the toilet block. I fell asleep easily with hope for a dry day on the morrow...but that's a tale for another day.
