Impressions of snow camping:


Snow is wetter than it looks: It’s like being in a rainforest where the rain doesn’t go away — it just hangs around in another form. All that beautiful flaked goodness adorning trees and hilltops is rain waiting to return to its natural state. Every source of temperatures above 32 degrees fahrenheit will cause snow to melt. So, you prepare for snow camping as you’d prepare for rain camping. Dry, powerdery snow is an illusion. Hold it in your hand in it and see how wet it gets. All your gear will be damp when you get home. Snow gets into everything, like sand in the desert.

It’s not like dirt: Snow is much easier to dig, and shape into useful things like shelters, shelves, cabinets, benches and so forth. It’ll hold its shape as long as the temperature is below freezing. Just make sure there’s an insulating layer between the snow and anything warm. Otherwise your warm meal will sink into your dinner table. Come spring, it’s all gone. Totally leave-no-trace.

It’s a great insulator: In extreme cold, the place to be is inside a snow cave, where it won’t get much colder than the freezing point of water. Body heat inside the cave will help warm it up, but it also causes water to drip from the ceiling, so you need something to keep the water out of your sleeping bag, preferably a bivy sack. Digging a snowcave, however, is a long and arduous job — not the kind of thing you’d do for an overnighter but worth a try if you’re going to stay out for a few days.

There’s a reason why people invented skis and snowshoes:
If you’re on a well-packed trail in snowshoes, you might think “heck, I don’t need these things on a path this firm.” And maybe you won’t, but the instant you step off the trail, your feet are going to sink, and this makes foot-powered travel a nightmare. Walking in snowshoes is pure, unadulterated drudgery (especially with a pack strapped on), but walking without them is far worse. Cross-country skis let you guide over flat and gently sloping terrain, but steep hills are hell if you don’t know what you’re doing.

It’s great exercise: The density of snow provides excellent resistance, which is great for your body in the long run, but extremely tiring in the short run, especially at altitude in the mountains. Just be prepared to be tired out a lot sooner. A mile of snowshoe backpacking is like four miles of regular hiking if you add high elevation to the exertion equation.

The sweat has to go somewhere:
A good wicking base-layer, a light insulating layer and a wind/rain shell are probably all you’ll need as long as you’re up and moving. The problem with your shell is that it’ll hold heat in while it’s keeping the wind/rain out, so you need to unzip as soon as you feel a bit of sweat happening. Once your activity calms down, your body heat can dry out synthetic clothing fairly quickly if it doesn’t get soaked (this is a major “if.” )

You’ll freeze without a warmth layer. You know how cold it gets after the sun goes down, but you might forget how cold it remains until the sun is high in the sky the next morning. You need a really warm down jacket to hold in body heat for those times when your body isn’t producing excess heat. Insulated pants are nice, too.

Think first of your hands and feet. The parts of your body farthest away from the warmth-producing organs are also are most likely to encounter snow. Always have a backup pair warm, dry socks and insulated gloves or mittens. Once your main insulators get wet, protect your backups with extreme prejudice.

Pray for clear weather. Snow is the only weather condition that can make it impossible to see where you’re going or where you’ve been. If weather gets terrible you need to be able to either stay put and ride it out (this can take several days in the mountains) or be to able to find your way back without getting lost.