Day 1 in Yellowknife - Searching for the Back Bay Ice Caves

I woke up before my alarm went off. Immediately, I stepped down from the bed and walked over to the large glass windows. I opened the curtains to look out at the Great Slave Lake. It was still a soft gray outside, the sun had another hour before it would rise. It was 8:40 AM. 

Closing the curtains, I changed into my favorite Icelandic wool sweater and a pair of Levi “Wedgie” jeans. Once I was fully-clothed, I opened the curtains once more and spent a few moments just sitting on the couch in my room, taking in the view. 

Across the street was a little house with a colorful fish on its brown siding. Soft white smoke rose from its chimney and into the cloudy sky. On either side of the house, I could see out across the flat snow-covered lake to the trees that stood on the other shore. 

At around 9:05 AM, I ventured upstairs where the B&B owner was waiting. He cooked some eggs and toast and poured me a cup of coffee. I sat by another set of floor-to-ceiling glass windows. I sipped my coffee and took bites of my eggs and toast as I watched the world wake up around me. 

The snow on the mountains brightened and a rosy pink colored the tips of the trees as the sun began to rise. 

While I ate, the B&B owner gave me some tips for finding the ice caves, which was my main goal for this day. He mentioned more than a few times to be careful. It was very cold and could be slippery on the lake. I don’t think he trusted that I was prepared for the -26ºC (-15ºF) weather.

His advice was to walk out across the lake because the path to the caves could be found directly across from us on the other side. He did, however, caveat that advice with “Google maps is good. It has the way.”

I stared out at the frozen body of water in front of me. I had seen pictures online of people walking across its surface, but today, I saw no one. It was just an endless expanse of white. This made me wonder if walking across was actually a good idea…

Looking on Google maps, I saw that it suggested I take a 40-minute walk through the city in order to get to the caves. Of course, it probably thought that the lake was still liquid, but I thought it was best if I followed its directions just to be safe. 

I waited until “mid-day” (11:30ish AM) to start my trek. Before that, I lay down on the couch with the view of the lake in front of me. I took in the tranquil beauty of the quiet landscape and started reading my new book, “The Last American Man.” It was the perfect reading material for this trip. 

When 11:30 AM rolled around, I thought to myself, okay, let’s do this. You can always turn around if you get too cold. 

So I started getting dressed. Here’s what I wore - 

On top:

• One tight-fitted base layer

• One somewhat tight base layer

• One Icelandic wool sweater

• One fleece pullover

• One waterproof, insulated winter jacked

On bottom:

• One pair of fleece-lined leggings

• One base layer

• One pair of insulated 66 North Polar Laki pants

On my head:

• One face gator 

• One beanie (or touque)

On my hands:

• One pair of inner gloves

• One pair of insulated snow gloves

On my feet:

• Two pairs of wool socks

• Waterproof Merrell hiking boots

In my day pack I had…

• One filled water bottle

• One portable battery and phone charger

• One electric hand warmer

• Multiple non-electric hand and toe warmers

• My Spectacles (yes let’s #vlog this shit)

• Some granola with dark chocolate (quick burn energy)

• My wallet

• My passport

• The keys to the B&B

Putting on my boots in the front hall, I was exited to take off. I opened the door and locked it behind me. Then I walked down the sidewalk toward the right. I was pretty sure that it was the direction the B&B owner had pointed me in. I was hoping it would direct me to an access point for the lake.

I passed by a mother trying to get her older toddler to stay put as she buckled her younger toddler into a stroller. This, of course, was not an easy task because not only was she dealing with two toddlers, but each of them (herself included) was bundled to look like the Michelin Man. 

Walking past her, I quickly realized that this path wasn’t leading me anywhere. All of the signs toward the lake said “Private Property.” I turned around and walked back the way I came. Again I passed the mother and I hoped she didn’t think I was some sort of stranger danger. My black face mask didn’t help my look, but I’m pretty sure her thoughts were focused on figuring out how to fit the stroller buckle around a marshmallow-like child. 

I made the executive decision to forgo the lake and follow Google maps’ directions. 

With my gator around my face, I plunged forward. That’s what it felt like. With the cold air blowing towards you, it feels like you’re plunging into a freezing cold pool as you walk.  Occasionally, I’d pull out my phone to try to gain an understanding of the directions. 

At one point, I missed a street and when I next checked Google maps, I saw that I was now on a longer, more round-about way.

Oh, well, I thought to myself and kept going. 

Finally, I made it to a hiking trail. This was a good sign. The trail was perfectly groomed, flat easy to navigate snow. I felt a lot more confident as I trotted along this path. I even passed another hiker and allowed myself to be bemused by the fact that people don’t seem to mind hiking through the icy trails here. 

Winding my way through frosted trees, I came to a bridge that sat dead center between two big expanses of white, flat snow. I smiled when I saw it. It reminded me of my favorite place to run when I was living in Salzburg, Austria. I remember that I’d feel so exhausted by the time I reached that bridge, but the sight of it always renewed my energy. This bridge did much the same thing.

Crossing it, I walked confidently along the path until I came to a fork. One side continued straight while the other turned into a more residential area. I stopped. For some reason, I could remember a turn-off in the Google maps directions. 

Opening my phone, I saw that, sure enough, it wanted me to go into the residential area. 

So I did. 

I wondered if people who were home thought it was strange to see a girl wandering through their neighborhood. Her hair frozen, eyelashes too, obviously not from this town. But no one said anything and I kept a quick pace. 

When I finally recognized the street name that I was supposed to turn on, I stopped. It looked like a normal cul-de-sac. It did not look like the type of place you’d find a trail to some ice caves. I checked my phone again even though my fingers were freezing. 

It was the correct street. I was sure of it. 

So I walked into the little roundabout. As I toured its edges, I saw a small trail made from multiple footsteps leading off into the trees. 

Oh, god, I thought, this could be really bad.

I hesitated at the edge of the trail. It was more like a path that had been worn down by others who were probably locals or who had a guide leading them.

I’m not one to hike alone. I know the dangers and I also know that I’m not well-equipped enough (mentally and skill-wise) to save myself if something bad happened. Something, for example, like falling into a pile of unpacked snow that I couldn’t pull myself out of. 

So, I walked away. There had to be another way, right?

I turned back around. 

No. This is what Google maps had led me to. 

Once again, I hesitated as I stared out at what seemed to be an endless expanse of snow-covered forest.

I turned and walked away again. I retrieved my frozen phone from my pocket. It had gotten too cold and had shut off. I pressed hard on its on button to turn restart it. Pulling up Google maps, I typed in the caves and re-read the directions. Again, it directed me to the tiny footpath.

With every ounce of willpower that I had, I walked back over to the path and made my way down, stepping into each footstep that had been stepped before mine. 

I followed it along and it fairly quickly emerged on a groomed trail. I was filled with relief. This was the correct way!

But then…

Google maps seemed to be directing me up and over a snowy hill. Once again, I saw a stretch of snowy footsteps, carved into the side of the hill. Again, I hesitated. Are you sensing a pattern here?

After a few moments, I decided to give it a try. After all, the first footpath had led me in the right direction. So, I stepped into the first bit of packed-down snow and hiked up. It was harder than the groomed path with moments in which I sunk into the soft powder. Still, I felt that I’d made the right choice until…

Until I reached the top of the hill and saw that no such path had been carved out for me in any direction. I had no idea where to go and it was obvious that those who’d come before me hadn’t either. This was all wrong. 

Back down the hill I went. Stepping carefully, I made my way back to the groomed path. A yellow dog with red booties on barked at me. 

“He’s friendly,” his owner called up to me. 

“I must have surprised him,” I responded. 

“Yes,” she answered, “he’s only used to people coming from there.” She pointed to the groomed trail, “not from up there.”

Further proof that I’d been going the wrong way. 

I walked down the groomed trail until, once again, it broke into a fork. One side continued straight while the other went up and to the left. I stared at the two sides and thought about the direction the caves had been when I was looking at the map. 

I chose the left side and stumbled along down and down until suddenly, I found myself out on the frozen lake. The open white snow stretched out in front of me. I could see the little houseboats out in the distance. 

The caves are just off the lake, I thought to myself. The B&B owner had explained that if you walked across the lake, you would come to a sign that showed you where the trail to the caves was. 

So, I started walking along the edge of the lake. In only a couple of minutes, I could already make out the sign just up ahead. 

Sure enough, it was the sign for the historic Back Bay cemetery that also marked the entrance to the Back Bay ice caves. Yes, I said cemetery. 

Walking up the path, two white picket fences marked the entrance the cemetery. Little stones and crosses were set up along the path. It wasn’t creepy in the slightest. Instead, it felt welcoming, precious, and beautiful.

I walked through the site, up along a slippery path until I came to a spot that once again featured two trail options. Deciding on the first, I ended up sliding down a slippery foot trail on my ass and stood up a bit surprised about the speed at which I’d slid. I set out to my right. 

It only took a few moments on the trail to realize I’d gone the wrong way. Google maps was telling me that I was in front of the ice caves. I was not. I was surrounded by trees. 99% of the time Google has the answers. 1% of the time you have to figure shit out for yourself. 

So, I turned around and walked the other way. I knew it had to be around there somewhere. 

And sure enough, after only a few paces back toward the first, I saw it. 

Yellow-white ice dripped in swirling spires from the top of a rock. It was breathtaking and I knew that this was what I had come here for. 

I so want to find the magic that is still left in this world, and here, in Yellowknife, I’d found it. Right in front of me. An enchanting, mesmerizing work of nature. There was energy radiating from it (if you believe in that sort of thing) and I stared at it. 

What’s funny is that I had to consciously tell myself to stop and appreciate it. Although I’d had an initial reaction of awe and wonder, my mind quickly went to okay, take a picture. This was followed by, okay, you’ve seen what you came to see. You got your picture. Now you can head back.

But I didn’t want it to just be that. Just be a fleeting glimpse. A picture for Instagram. I wanted to be in the moment longer. I wanted the full impact of what I was looking at to fall onto me. I wanted to appreciate what I was seeing. For it to be more than just something to check off a bucket list. 

So I took a step back into the woods and stood there quietly. I stared up at the ice caves and took the time to let their strange and mystical beauty sink in. 

It was only after about five or so minutes of this (longer than you think in below 0ºF temperatures) that I was ready to leave. 

I navigated my way back to the lake and started walking back the way I’d come. 

Along the way, I passed a man with his husky. The husky looked like a wolf and sniffed around on the trails. The man smiled at me as I passed. 

I forgot to mention that my eyelashes were frozen and by this time my hands were starting to feel… well, actually, they didn’t feel at all. They’d gone from burning to completely numb. At one point on the way back, I was afraid that my pinky finger would never regain feeling ever again. 

However, I used the trick that our Finnish guide Erikki had taught us and stuck my hand under my armpit. It worked. I also used another trick he taught us which was to elevate my toes out of the snow when they started to go numb as well. 

Still, even with all of the tricks, it was a difficult journey back. I shivered until I could open the door and let myself back into my room where I spent a good five minutes warming my phone so that it could turn back on. 

Then, I sat down to write this out. Now, I’m planning to head to the local brewery for a beer and some food. I’ve never drunk or eaten alone, so wish me luck!