*This article appeared in The National Post
This winter hasn’t been exactly ideal for romancing in an igloo.
Temperatures in Quebec plunged, and the prospect of driving three hours northeast of Montreal for a getaway at the Ice Hotel was somewhat daunting.
The morning of our trip it was a cool minus 10. Dave and I climbed into the car decked in wool and synthetic blends, the under-layers advised on the hotel’s website. We also packed ski jackets and pants, hats, gloves, scarves and bathing suits as per instructions.
Hot love on ice seemed like such a great idea on paper: the website told of cocktails on the rocks, a four-course dinner and breakfast buffet, access to hot tubs and saunas, and a private candle-lit igloo for the night.
Yet on our way there, we realized our plans might be overly ambitious. We’d chosen
the Adventure Package, complete with ice fishing and dog-sledding. How many hours had we signed up to spend in minus-God-know-what anyway?