It is a brutally cold night in February. I order pizza in the common area (which I half expect to arrive in an ice box) and follow all instructions, warming myself up in a hot tub in the Nordic Area. Fellow guests are flushed with excitement and anxiety for the night ahead. Several make pacts that they will never evacuate to the heated hotel rooms. Others look ready to pull the plug moments after they exit the hot tub. Staff show me to my beautifully carved room, where a deer-skin lined and thermally insulated mattress sits atop a wooden frame. The fur is cold to the touch, and the air smells like ozone. As my body heat begins to evaporate, I quickly take my photos and videos. I climb into my soft bag liner, then into the sleeping bag, switch off the handily located LED room light, and lie flat, watching each warm breath form a cloud. That’s when my brain and bladder go to war.
I took great care to use the bathroom before heading to my room, but I also took great care to enjoy the welcome cocktail and a couple of ice vodka shots, too. “No, it’s nothing,” says my brain reassuringly. “If you don’t get up to pee, you’re going to be thinking about it all night until you burst,” says my bladder.
“Any additional warmth inside the sleeping bag will be most welcome,” retorts my brain.
“Remember what the guide said about going to bed wet?” snaps my bladder. And on it goes, for hours and hours, until I do manage to restlessly drift off to sleep. The mattress is comfortable enough, and when the brain vs bladder battle subsides for half a minute, I reflect on the undeniable thrill of spending a night in a beautiful place that is utterly (and icily) unique. At first light, I leave my room, use the washroom with great relief, grab my things from the locker and beeline to my warm room at the resort for a good morning’s rest.
Come spring, the Hôtel de Glace will begin to thaw, and all the snow, ice, hard work and unforgettable memories will melt away with it.
