Ontario Snow Train

Ripping through the snow in Northern Ontario

The sound of gunfire has nothing on the scream of a snowmobile drive belt shredding at 130 kilometres an hour for "pucker" effect.

Certainly, I felt pinched as bits of rubber ricocheted off the Yamaha's belt guard -- then the track locked up as the belt wedged itself into the clutch. I slowed to a stop, hit the kill-switch and all was quiet -- except for my thundering heartbeat and the sound of my family's sleds fading into the wilderness.

What an utter, profound silence. I pulled off my helmet and faced the brilliantly shining sun; I shaded my eyes and stared down the trail -- wide, clear and empty. I was sitting on a trail about 100 kilometres south of Hearst, Ont., listening to the sounds of the other snowmobiles die away.

Looking both ways, it dawned on me just how utterly alone I was. My ears hummed with the strain of listening to nothing and, for the first time on this trip, it struck me just how big this province of ours really is.

Americans boast about Texas, but the fact is Texas has nothing on Ontario.

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