Skoki Lodge has had almost 80 years to modernize, but people still love it for what it lacks: Electricity. Running water. Internet. Cellphone service. Plumbing. Road access.
And, since midnight in our cabin, heat.
So, at 3 a.m. and -30 Celsius, I've walked to the manager's cabin. My bare hand, hovering above his door, is about to flash-freeze. I hesitate until I remember the premium I paid for a private cabin. I knock loudly. “Sorry about this, Leo. Our heater quit working and we can't get it started. Can you take a look at it?”
My Christmas Eve tradition has been to cross-country ski the accessible, familiar trails in Kananaskis, west of Calgary. But last year I decided to quit flirting with the outdoor experience and consummate the fantasy: Remote and renowned, Skoki Lodge was my choice.
Skoki is the oldest backcountry ski lodge in Canada, possibly North America. It was built in Banff National Park in 1930, 19 kilometres north of the Lake Louise townsite, and, despite a few additions, it hasn't changed much in the decades since. While modern resort chains spend lavishly to differentiate their brands, the charismatic Skoki belches more charm up its chimney in one evening than you'll find at so many competitors. Skoki offers the ultimate old-school Christmas.
But first you have to get there.
The trail to Skoki begins halfway up the mountain at the Lake Louise ski area. After locating the trail (no easy feat), we planted our poles and pushed into the forest toward a resort that, at 2,440 metres, is the highest lodging in any Canadian national park.
We are experienced classic cross-country skiers, but for this adventure we rented ski touring gear, mostly for the assurance of having climbing skins (removable strips that attach to the bottom of your skis to grip during the uphill parts of an excursion). Our backpacks held extra clothes, a trail lunch, hot tea and emergency supplies.
The -27 temperature motivated us to move quickly along the ungroomed 11-kilometre trail. We glided through the Coral Creek Valley, thick with snow-covered conifers. After four kilometres, we pulled up beside the Halfway Hut, a log building known to be haunted by the ghosts of four Skoki visitors who perished in avalanches in the 1930s. It's possible that while standing there I felt a chill up my spine courtesy of a spectral presence from a warmer dimension. If so, I confused it with the air temperature in this one. We gobbled our sandwiches and tried to drink bottled water that was nearly frozen.
We soon crested Boulder Pass and skied onto the white expanse of Ptarmigan Lake. Wind had almost obliterated the trail, so we spent a few anxious minutes looking for a trail marker. If visibility had been poor, we would have had to turn around. Sighting a marker, we climbed Deception Pass that, at 8,200 feet, was the highest point and best cardio workout of the trail. Now above the tree line, we felt as if we could touch the sun that hung low in the sky. We looked back at the stunning view before descending to the sheltered Skoki Valley for our final 3.5-kilometre stretch. After 31/2 hours of skiing, the lodge appeared through the trees.
Crossing the lodge's threshold, we found ourselves in a building crafted from hand-cut logs, with wooden furniture and floors, and stone fireplaces. All of it was designated a National Historic Site in 1992. Katie Mitzel, who co-manages the lodge with her husband, Leo, greeted her first guests of the season with hot soup and muffins.
That night, we were included in the family's Christmas Eve ritual. For us, her husband and two young children, Katie dished out gourmet-calibre cuisine that seemed incongruent to a place she gets water for by chopping a hole in the creek ice.
