“As Autumn matures, we can no longer ignore the Earth’s seasonal tilt away from the sun, Winter is coming. For many this calls a halt to outdoor adventure, tents are stowed in cupboards adventures shorten and people stay close to the home and the hearth. But not for me, I love winter, I welcome the seasons arrival. Native American friends once told me that Winter is the season of wisdom. For over thirty years now I have been exploring that concept, embracing the winter by racing North to the Arctic to experience the coldest most challenging grip of the season in northern Lapland. There the nights are long, and the sky is malevolent, palpably blotting up my vital life warmth into the quiet eternity of space. So why do I love extreme winter?

To survive in the North, one must quickly learn to pay heed to nature’s demands, winter is the harshest most dispassionate of teachers. As the mercury in the thermometer drops the whole environment changes. From plus six to minus six Celsius winter is moist and seeps into our clothing, causing discomfort and slowly chilling our bodies.

From minus six to minus twenty, life is comfortable, the environment is dry, the cold easily managed with appropriate clothing and movement is easy and snow underfoot squeaks.

At minus thirty, every needle on a spruce is encrusted in a mantle of perfectly formed ice crystals. The snow underfoot sounds like polystyrene, nature’s indicator that warns that we now must take extra care to avoid making mistakes. We say that at minus thirty you can get away with making perhaps three small mistakes before you suffer a frost injury.

As the mercury reaches minus forty, eyelashes freeze and stick together, winter is serious now, even for inhabitants of the north. The machinery of everyday life-support becomes as stressed as we are, nothing can be ignored, motor vehicles must be kept warm. At best two mistakes can be made, but the risk of one mistake creating a complication that sets in motion a chain reaction of events that spiral downwards and out of control is extreme.

Should you be fortunate to experience camping at minus fifty, the snow now sounds like porcelain, a reminder of our mortal fragility, no mistakes can be made, here there is no downward spiral, we exist on the brink of a precipice one false move and down we go. Now the strength of teamwork and mutual support is essential to life.

Extreme cold is very revealing, it separates the pseudo tough guys from those who can really endure. Winter breaks bravado and rewards determination and ingenuity. One year in a wilderness camp with the thermometer pressing hard against its limit at minus fifty-five degrees celsius, I determined with the help of my team to break jack frosts strangle hold and to induce our frozen snowmobile start. Pitching a tent with a wood burning stove over the engine, we carefully warmed it for five hours, after which our machines engine burst willingly into life, the sound of its starting broke the terrifying silence of the chill that was gripping the land. It felt as though we had passed a test of survival, for we were mobile again in a land where mobility can literally mean life. The locals we were working with asked for our assistance and that day a small body of British outdoors instructors gained hard earned respect in a small community in the far north.

Winter is totally dispassionate of a human beings tropically evolved frailty. Under her schooling we learn to pay attention to a plethora of details which in any other season or landscape would be immaterial. Tiny things like tying knots that release without jamming to prevent frozen fingers, learning to always defrost equipment before stowage to prevent it icing up. Religiously drying and maintaining our vital insulative layers of clothing becomes a way of life while absolutely we must know how to unerringly make a fire, find shelter from the chilling breeze, find water in the frozen forest, and obtain life preserving calories in the wild. When, inevitably, we reach a point when no more comfort can be attained, we learn to ignore discomfort and to endure by concentrating on the positive; stoicism is not a trendy idea in the north but a pillar of life itself.

In the arctic novices are rightly fearful. But with good training and the development of the correct skills and attitude the north can swiftly become home, and what a home. The stark frosted beauty of the boreal forest, the satisfying glow of skin warmed by blood pumped while skiing across a frozen lake, the sound of a Siberian Jay chattering in the trees, the ethereal beauty of northern lights as they dance above our campfire where true friendships are forged. Having now spent forty years of my life teaching bushcraft and guiding in remote wilderness I can say with absolute certainty that no other environment so profoundly enhances the joy of being alive than the arctic in winter. While teaching people to live and travel in the North is incredibly rewarding, for me it is also deeply humbling. Although I can teach a range of extraordinary skills, some of my own invention, others learned from the first nations who call the north home, I now understand that the real teacher is nature herself, I merely facilitate her lessons. I have learned to watch for the moment the penny drops, when a student realises, ‘I can do this.’ When, suddenly, finding competence with their equipment and clothing they believe they can be at home there and discover the inner strength and the resolve necessary to meet winter’s extreme challenge. Nearly always at this moment they are tired but find the energy to smile with the assured confidence of success. In the practise of wilderness bushcraft success builds success. At this point students become true ‘Pilgrims of the Wild,’ ready, willing and able to travel in the north in winter, but most importantly receptive to the many nuanced lessons nature has still to impart. Winter truly is the season of wisdom.”

– Ray Mears