Tobias helps me do up the fastenings on the ski boots. They have a thick sole with hard pieces of plastic against the toe, which I assume will click into the bindings. He measures a couple of skis against my height, handing me a lightweight pair. “These should work.”

“Great,” I say, with far more confidence than I feel.

When we’re all geared up and ready to go, Tobias addresses us as a group. “This is the scouting mission,” Tobias says. “We have a rough idea of where Lake Baku should be, but we don’t know what we’re going to find. Set your bakus to record the whole time.”

I nod and move Slick up to a special baku pouch in the hood of my jacket, so he can record things more easily. We throw our skis over our shoulder and march outside.

I zip my jacket right up to my chin, then pull a bright red knitted hat with a bobble at the top over my ears. We step into the skis and almost right away I wobble on the narrow surface. Tobias grabs my arm to steady me and hands me a couple of poles. “This will make it easier.”

And it does. We arrange ourselves single file to leave the cottage, Tobias, Ashley, and Kai all carrying large backpacks filled with supplies, drinks, and extra layers in case we get cold. I’ve been relieved of needing a backpack this time, concentrating instead on my cross-country-skiing technique. Once I get the hang of it, pushing out one leg and sliding the other to meet it, it becomes much easier—almost fun. I follow in the tracks laid for me by Tobias, and my skis run smoothly in his path. It’s not long until my body warms up enough that I drag the hat from my head and stuff it into my pocket. My cheeks feel rosy with warmth, and I find myself smiling despite myself.

The beauty of having a cottage—even a fancy one—is that within a few paces we are almost completely engulfed in the wilderness. Snow balances precariously on branches making snow ghosts of the trees, the ground all around us sparkling and shimmering, carpeted in unbroken white. There are tracks in the ground from deer and birds braving the winter, but mostly it’s a serene and unspoiled place. The only sound comes from the heavy breathing of my companions and the crackle of ice breaking as the temperature warms up ever so slightly.

That is, until the snow beneath my feet appears to vibrate. Alarmed, I ask Slick to connect me to Zora. “Are you seeing this? What’s happening? Do they get earthquakes in this part of Canada?”