The saying goes, "there's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong wardrobe."
Our guests this weekend had all the right gear. They were outside, on the toboggan hill, skating rink, and ski trails. One of the great things about cross country skiing is that when you get into the bush, out of the reach of windchill, the winter day warms up considerably.
Years ago, when the original Muskoka Loppet ski race ran here, over 30 miles (yes miles, not km.) and was a qualifier trial for the Olympics, drawing international athletes, we manned the 20 km. Rest Stop. Which was a total misnomer. They didn't stop. Nor did they rest...
There we were, huddled in as many clothes as we could layer on when the mercury fell close to 30 below, tending our little bonfire, and hovering close to the warm drinks we had on hand for the athletes. All you could see of our dauntless (well, only slightly daunted) group of volunteers were our eyes, peering out between scarves and hats. Then the skiers came swooshing through - in spandex. I kid you not. We used to joke that they must just line up naked at the start and have their team colours spray painted onto them... The athletes were working so hard that the temperature didn't affect them... Mind you, they weren't dressed for hanging about, and the less accomplished skiers sometimes found themselves under-dressed for conditions.
Or, put another way, wearing the wrong wardrobe!
We prefer a more leisurely pace when we ski, with a more layered fashion look and time to admire the view.
And we are very keen on the coming home part, the bit where you get back to the cottage, and it's warm, welcoming, with the fire going, and a cup of tea waiting!