My memories of being a happy camper are mostly repressed. When I dredge up a leaky tent, mosquitoes the size of Boeing 767s and the nearest facilities at least a mile down a bear-infested road, it reminds me of why I prefer to stay home, on my Simmons Beautyrest. If I’m going to crawl out from under my down duvet, I want the experience to be memorable. And not the kind of memorable I would really rather forget.
There must be a lot of other people who feel the same as me, which is why glamping has so much appeal. One luxurious getaway is the Clayoquot Wilderness Resort, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, BC. I’m all for roughing it in a safari-style tent with bejewelled walls, Persian carpets and a bed fit for an eco-queen.
But if drinking lovely tea, wrapped in Hudson’s Bay blankets, doesn’t sound like enough of a bare-bones survival challenge, Outward Bound Canada gives adventure travellers a chance to mush a team of sled dogs through Algonquin Provincial Park, about 250 km (155 mi) north of Toronto, ON. You’ll sleep in a canvas prospector’s tent heated by a wood stove—at night take a walk under the starry skies (if you’re lucky, you’ll see the Northern Lights). Don’t worry, the dogs will keep you company, baying to scare away the wolves that often howl all night in conversation with them. For more exotic animal viewing, wake up to a polar bear at your window in Tundra Buggy Lodge, a mobile, train-like hotel on monster-truck wheels. You’ll stay right in a polar bear environment, near Churchill, MB.
The Ottawa Jail Hostel in Ottawa, ON, has small but secure rooms (“It’s a jail, dude,” one guest writes) in fully rehabilitated prison cells. Another option is Quirpon Lighthouse Inn, a restored light-keeper’s home on a deserted island at the northernmost point of Newfoundland and Labrador, on the shores of named-for-a-reason “Iceberg Alley.”
There are so many places to crib in our country, all of them exotic in their unique way. You can bed down in a traditional igloo, in the heart of a Laurentian forest in Quebec; a tipi at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in Alberta; a handcrafted sphere suspended from a web of rope in the Vancouver Island, BC, rainforest; or in a yurt in the remote Yukon wilderness. On British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast, you can spend romantic nights in a tree-house cottage in a cloud sleeper bed—under a skylight where you can count the stars or listen to rain falling on cedar.
Another place I’ve always fantasized about staying in is Quebec’s infamous Hôtel de Glace (Ice Hotel). Everything—the structure, décor, furniture, even the drinking glasses and the beds—are made entirely of snow and ice. The first time I Googled the hotel, I was surprised to learn that “deer pellets” were spread on the ice to insulate you from the cold. I, otherwise known as The Princess and the Pea incarnate, could not imagine getting through a night reclining on deer pellets. Turns out the story had been translated, and something’d been lost in translation. Deer pelts cover the ice, which keep you cozy and warm.
