Camping in the snow

 

Last januari, not long before the coronavirus so devestatingly hit Italy, I was in the very north of the country for a winter snowshoe and camping trip through the Fanes-Sennes-Prags/Braies (quite a mouthful!) nature park, situated in the Dolomites. I only had limited time, so I intented this short week as a training and try-out for a more ambitious snowshoe trekking in Finland in March. However with the borders shutting down mid-March that second winter trekking never came to be. Which made me all the more grateful I did this one. The Fanes-Sennes nature park is a beautiful area to explore on showshoe, with its gentle slopes and direct views on impressive rocky peaks, though in comparison to Scandinavian nature parks it was quite busy and I did miss the wide northern valleys - the complete freedom of being able to go about anywhere.

This trekking in Italy also was my second time wild camping in the snow. I'm glad to say that, although my system isn't yet perfect, by now I've got a lot of it figured out. And I want to share some of the lessons I learned. It's a nice topic to think about in the sweltering heat of a summer that feels quite empty without its usual festivals, travels and events. :)

Why would you want to go winter camping?
Why would one choose to carry a big backpack filled with bulky winter camping gear around, go through the hard work of pitching your tent in deep snow, and then sleep in it out in the freezing cold while you can sleep in a warm, comfortable hotel instead? Good question. I perfectly understand that for the vast majority of people, the idea will have zero appeal. 

But if it does appeal to you... I'll tell you, the rewards are great. Sitting beside your tent in the evening, melting snow, and looking up at the clearest of starry skies while glistening ice crystals are twirling around. Waking up to a gorgeous sunrise and letting the first sunrays warm your frozen face. Exploring and playing around in a landscape that is totally, utterly transformed by the deep blanket of snow. There's an intensity of experiencing nature that I just can't find if I'd stay in hotels.  

Do give it a good thought beforehand, though. A safe and at least somewhat comfortable experience in winter camping requires a big investment. Good quality gear that is warm but still light and compact enough to carry is expensive like hell - I'm literally talking about investments that add up to thousands of euros. Building up the needed knowledge and skills take up a lot of time, too. So before you commit yourself, do ask yourself: are you prepared to make that investment in time and money? If at all possible, start out with gear you already own/rental gear. And forget ambitious plans - give yourself time to learn and build experience. If you're unsure, winter is an excellent time to join an organized tour with a certified guide.  

The right tent - and pitching it in deep snow

It may seem silly, but I always wanted a red tent. They just look so pretty in the landscape. With this upcoming winter trip and the intention of doing a lot more of those, I decided to finally give in to my heart's desire. I went for a red Hilleberg four-season tent, a model called the Unna. This tent is completely free-standing, which I'd be the first to say you don't really need - I'm normally not a fan of those tent models because of their heavier weight and limited head space. Any sturdy tent in combination with snow stakes will in fact do the job for winter camping. However last year in Tromso I realized the great advantage of free-standing tents in winter: when the snow is just too powdery for even snow stakes to hold, you'll still have a cozy shelter to crawl into. The Unna is, unlike a lot of other free-standing winter tents on the market, at 2.2kg still light enough to carry, while also being fairly bomb-proof. I was able to witness that sturdiness myself when a full-blown snow storm raged on my second night of the trek. The Unna had no problems handling it. I'm happy with this beautiful, well-made tent, even though as a result of the gradually sloping walls and the rather loose inner tent it does feel more cramped than the dimentions would suggest. 

Pitching a tent in the snow a time-comsuming process even with a free-standing one. You'll still have to stamp out a platform with your skis or snow shoes and as long as it's not refrozen, you'll have to keep wearing them or else you'll keep sinking in, creating inconvenient holes. I developed a routine pitching my tent while still wearing my snow shoes. By the time I finished other chores like inflating my sleeping mat, the snow had refrozen enough for me to put the snow stakes in and take off my snow shoes. Time to bundle up and start melting snow and cooking dinner, yay! 

A cooking system that works in the snow and cold 

The general advice you'll come across when you look for it, it that alcohol isn't a good fuel for winter use. I quite disagree. It's true that alcohol doesn't burn very hot, but it still has a lot of advantages. It's easy to light even in deep cold - you just need a second match maybe - and is easy to buy, easy to carry and alcohol stoves are very reliable thanks to there being no fiddly parts. I'm fine with the trade-off of having to carry a bit more fuel. My mistake in Norway last year was that the aliminium plate I brought to put beneath my stove was too slippery, and without it didn't work either as the stove kept sinking into the snow. This time I brought a thin piece of wood. Problem solved. I still wasn't too happy with the performance of my specific stove, though. There seems to be an issue with side-flame alcohol stoves in serious cold: both the Vargo and the Whitebox ones took a long, long time to properly bloom, while my tiny Toaks stove with a top flame worked just fine but lacked the capacity to melt and boil a larger pot of water. I've recently bought the classic Trangia stove which has both a top flame and greater capacity, so that problem should be fixed on my next winter trekking.

You might wonder why I don't just make a campfire. It's the most talked about bushcraft skill, yet like a lot of long distance hikers I almost never make one. My reasons? I'm often camping above the tree line, don't like the smoke and soot that come with fire, and besides I just don't feel all the work is worth it. If you're traveling through forest in a group, that's of course an entirely different situation. 

Clothing for when you're not moving

One of the first lessons I learned was that cold is not an issue as long as you're moving and your hands/head are protected. Even in east Finland in -30C I was doing alright with two extra layers. The cold only sets in properly when you stop moving - and you can't avoid that because you've got to sit still for long times to melt snow (unless you're lucky enough to have regular access to unfrozen water). So for me the trick is to wear rather light, moisture-wicking clothes during the day - a base layer with a lightly insulated synthetic jacket is enough most of the time - and then as soon as I've set up your camp, change clothes and bundle up. In the evenings in Italy I wore thermo clothes, a fleece layer, down pants, a thick fleece hat, and a really thick down jacket with 300gr of high-quality down - and was super comfortable.    

Winter boots and campshoes

Few things are worse in a winter camper's life than having to wrestle yourself into frozen boots first thing in the morning. There are several solutions to this problem. You can put your boots in a plastic bag in the evening and take them with you in your sleeping bag, but it's far from comfortable to have two lumpy cold things at your feet. Thawing them near a fire is possible but risky, as the glue holding them together can easily melt. I've read some people suggest to put handwarmers in them, but haven't tried that out because I don't want to carry a bag of them with me. Instead this year I used a new pair of boots with a removable inner boot. That worked really nicely: putting just the inner boots in my sleeping bag wasn't uncomfortable, and I didn't have any issue with putting the boots on in the morning. 

You'll also want something to put on in camp while your boots are off. I've got a pair on down socks to wear inside my tent (down really is everything in winter), but I still want campshoes that I can also walk outside with, even in deep snow. Ideally they'd be waterproof, thigh-high, insulated booties with a sturdy and non-slippery sole. I'm still looking for those. I tried the expedition booties from Western mountaineering, but sent them back as they were too tight around the calves. 

I hope you found this useful! Have you ever camped in the winter? I'd love to hear your stories and methods.