Things that surprised me about living somewhere it gets to minus 35

You know those people who say, ‘I don’t mind the cold, I just dress in layers’? Those people have not lived anywhere truly cold. When it’s minus 35, dressing is not about layers. It’s about having a bloody big coat. Preferably one that comes down to your ankles, with a hood, and a flock of Canada geese for filling. Even I, as a vegetarian, say that, because when it’s minus 35, it is them or me. There is one exception to this rule: This I learned the hard way, when I decided that the fact that it was minus 35 wasn’t going to stop me from going for a walk. Fifteen minutes into the expedition, my husband looked at me and said, ‘isn’t your nose cold?’ and I said, ‘no, I can’t even really feel it,’ which possibly should have been the give away right there, but it wasn’t, and he said, ‘that’s coz it’s gone white’, and we ran back home and I spent the next few hours googling ‘when do you go to hospital with frostbite?’ as my nose swelled up and turned red. And when it had gone back to normal, I bought a face masky thing, and now I own clothing that I don’t even have a name for, and my nose didn’t freeze again. Win.

I was a little surprised the first time I saw the hares that live in my back alleyway around May. I was a lot surprised to learn that they they stick around all year round, even when it’s minus 35. They are called snow-shoe hares because they have big flat feet that help them bound through the snow and oh I just died a bit from too much cuteness. I don’t know how they do it, but hares – along with elk, moose, mountain goats, foxes, coyotes and bison – seem to be perfectly happy living in minus 35. Actually, I can’t speak to their happiness about this state of affairs, but they’re certainly well adapted.

Wait, let’s go back, did I say I went for a walk when it was minus 35? Yes, I did. Look, I know you don’t really expect this, but life goes on, even when it’s minus 35. In Edmonton it does anyway, helped by a system of ‘pedways’, above ground passages that connect a lot of the central city and mean that I can go to work, get the metro, visit the gym, catch a show, all without ‘going outside’. Parts of ‘life’ do require more planning, I’ll grant you that. Like, I have some friends working on some major urban construction projects. Apparently concrete doesn’t set when it’s minus 35 (who knew?) so you have to build giant tents, and heat those giant tents, and then bridges inside them. But, you know, that’s life in Edmonton – build a bloody big tent, and get that bridge built.

Dogs wear shoes! Their feet would be too cold outside, so they wear not only little jackets, but little shoes and oh I just died a little bit more from cuteness again. People, however, do not wear shoes. Not in the house, anyways. Everywhere is covered in ice and snow, as are any shoe you wear outside and then inside. So, you take your shoes off inside. All good. But it meant you could you end up at quite a fancy-schmancy party at someone’s place, with everyone all dressed up in cocktail frocks or whatever, standing around in bare feet. It sort of seems like something Australians should do, yet don’t. I’m now totally on board with it, though. ‘They wear shoes in their houses,’ I’ve heard Canadians say derogatorily about Americans. ‘Barbarians,’ I now think. 

Hang on, let’s get this straight, there are really things you can do when it’s minus 35? Ok, I can tell you are struggling with this, but yes, there are. If anything, Edmonton ups the ante in winter, with endlessly creative winter festivals – dark sky star-gazing at Elk Island, or snow sculptures and ice castles in Hawrelak Park, anyone? That’s before you even get into cross-country skiing, shoe-showing (just like a hare!) or skating on lakes or impromptu outdoor rinks. I tried out ice-carving one night (another festival). It did get a bit chilly after a while, but nothing a hot chocolate and a mulled wine on Whyte Ave couldn’t fix.

When the outside world is snowy white, all of the car ads feature families bundling into SUVs and taking off through the wintry forests, snow flying everywhere. When the weather turns nicer, however, families go for picnics by melted lakes. Are even the car companies trying to convince you that there are things to do outside in winter here? Maybe, although they skip some of the details, like how you have to remember to pack blankets – because when it’s minus 35, a minor accident can turn into hypothermia. But the ads are a good reminder that if you do have a car, there are even more things you can do in winter, yes even outdoor things! Like you can throw your skis (and one of those face warmy things) in the back and take off for a bit of cross-country, a drive across a frozen lake, or a back country hike, where you can head for an all-weather shelter (stocked with wood all year round), light yourself a little fire, toast a marshmallow or two and pour yourself a hot chocolate, as the snow soundlessly turns the world outside into a winter wonderland.

The dark, oh the dark. I got up and trudged off to work in the pitch black for a solid six months. And in between, it is never, truly, light. Wan, I guess you’d say. And there are always shadows, because the sun never rises very high. It’s like living in a place where a few bulbs have always blown, or where it never gets past 5 pm. At the end of the day, you can wear a flock of geese to avoid the cold. But the dark is unrelenting. And I have to confess, it does kind of get you towards the end.

I have no hard evidence, but I am convinced that the weather here makes people nicer. Living in such an extreme climate really does something to your psyche. There’s a sense that you all need to stick together to survive. No wonder the weather is an all consuming topic of conversation, as everyone tries to work out just how cold it will be this week, and when it might turn. In fact, Canadians talk about the weather like Australians talk about house prices. It’s that giant thing that we have no control over, that has so much control over us. Yet unlike house prices in Australia, the weather here seems to bring everyone together. Like you’re all in this together, more or less managing. While we wait for …

How awesome even it is now that it’s patio season! Patio season is what comes after winter, when you get to eat/drink/recreate OUTSIDE! Without so much as a face warmer! Patio here can be noun (as in ‘Patio open!’), an adjective (‘Patio season!’) or a verb (‘Where are we patioing tonight?’), and the only thing Edmontonians like to talk about more than the weather, is where we are patioing that day. Patio long, patio well, Edmonton, you – sorry, we! – have earned this.

Gee, it’s nice outside on this here patio. But I think back now. To packing up the car with blankets, donning all those clothes, and heading out on the snowy highway, for a spot of cross-country skiing, after which we’d fire up the grill in a back country cabin, pour some hot chocolate, and decide whether to go ice-carving or star gazing tonight. And talk about how cold it was going to be next weekend, and when the weather was turning. And, gosh darn if I don’t sort of, kind of, just a little bit, miss it now that it’s gone.

How long till it’s going to be minus 35 again?

Jay Martin is an Australian who, after living in Poland for a while, swore she’d never live anywhere cold, dark, or more than a single direct flight from Perth. She moved to Edmonton just over a year ago. Such is life. Jay recently survived her first Edmonton winter.