Collingwood: Snowmobiling Shenanigans (Part 2)

Meet my ride. 

If I had learned anything from our weekend in Collingwood, it would be that I am a terrible snowmobile passenger... And that Collingwood is a pretty happening place.

I had only been to Collingwood twice before and with much time in between. My only memories of the little town were good skiing and unbearably hot spa water. As luck would have it, I was knee-deep in work a few days before our trip, so Brian took care of all the planning, from choosing our airbnb to booking our tours for the weekend.

For such a short trip, we did some pretty cool things, the first of which was snowmobiling. 

I got a text at eight in the morning with the snowmobiling location and a note saying: "If you find yourself on road 57C, do not go to any house and ask for directions. They breed ROTTWEILER DOGS, seriously!" There was no doubt it would be a wild ride after that.

It had been snowing all day, and our drive to the snowmobiling location would be just as terrible as the previous night's. But the fact that it was three in the afternoon and that we had a functioning GPS definitely made all the difference. At least we weren't driving blind.

The starting point of our tour happened to be an open field with a portable reminiscent of my highschool days on one corner, marking the tour office. Once we had taken care of all the particulars, we were fitted for helmets and essentially handed a snowmobile. The "training" portion of the tour took all of thirty seconds, which was more time than it took for the little voice in my head to say: "I don't like this".

In the five minutes that followed, Brian and I were turning a corner in the field when we almost tipped over. I was unseated for less than a minute, but the pain and the subsequent eggo waffle of a bruise beside my knee would last for a week. Just when I was starting to tear up from the pain, the tour began in earnest, and I had no choice but to suck it up. Cry me a river some other time, JJ.

Post-snowmobiling

Scary moments, stalled machines, and all other things considered, snowmobiling was a great experience. Brian was a natural, and as his passenger, I had a lovely time. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. When your partner can't hear you say "slow down", you might as well enjoy the ride. And I definitely did in more ways than one.

What stood out to me the most was the serenity and the calmness of the trail, which were so little affected by the roar of the engine or the speed of our ride. It felt a little like we were unplugging from day-to-day life. And it was fun! A little outside my comfort zone, yes. But it was definitely worth it.