Well, it's not St.Barth's or BoraBora, but Cambridge-Narrows has it's own charm, even at minus ten degrees in the taunt of night. I always enjoy those last thirty minutes before the western sky reels its inky sheets in for the night. Last evening's light had me inspired enough to leave my warm bread home (and half glass of Mott's Landing rosé) to take my camera to the frozen, crackling shore. I was not disappointed.
Earlier in the day, yesterday, a lone deer made a nervous trek across the lake ice. The ice is plenty thick, so no fear there, it's just that deer hooves, like stilettos, are ill equipped for ice. This is why you rarely see hookers or cud chewing ruminants playing ice hockey. It's worth noting that the Halifax hockey team are called the Mooseheads, not the moose hooves, for a reason.
Today I may do the same (go on the ice), though I hope to be moved by the wind. This may be the day for the year's first kite ski. The forecast is for a generous high of minus nine degrees with a thirty kilometre wind from the northwest...that gives a wind chill of minus twenty-five degrees. Where on earth would I rather be?
St.Barth's, BoraBora...sure, but the Canadian winter is quite glorious if you embrace it before it embraces you.