Flip-Flops in January: Why Winter Might Be the Best Time to Go to the Cottage

As I packed for a winter overnight at Springwood Cottage Resort, my brain kept pulling me in two directions. What do I need for winter activities? And what do I need for a cottage stay? 

The answer, it turns out, was gear for both. Snow pants and mittens would share space in my bag with a bathing suit and, yes, flip-flops.

I was told that my cabin would have a hot tub on my deck. I could picture the steam rising dramatically into the cold air, but I could also see a cartoon version of myself ‘ooo-ah-eek-brrrr-ing’ my way to the tub in bare feet. A quick dash in flip-flops would make that entirely doable. 

With my bags packed, I head out for Springwood Cottage Resort which sits about an hour and a half southwest of Ottawa along Highway 7, deep enough into cottage country that the city’s grip on me is loosened. Set in the Ontario Highlands in Central Frontenac on Kennebec Lake, Springwood Cottage Resort is located in a four-season playground. It’s about an hour from Kingston, Belleville and Prince Edward County, and less than three hours from Toronto. 

The drive itself becomes part of the transition, taking in frozen inland lakes and tall pines dusted with snow like someone went wild with icing sugar and a sieve. By the time I arrived, the tension in my city shoulders was easing and I’m already thinking how idyllic it would be to host a family reunion or holiday gathering pulling my crew together from Toronto, PEC, and Ottawa, cutting everyone’s drive.

I’m learning that regardless of when you go to the cottage, some things remain the same: peace, relaxation, and a noticeable reduction in the need for technology. But winter strips things back even further. 

There’s still a bit of a mad rush to enjoy every hour of daylight, with curling, skating, snowshoeing, skiing, and crokicurl (the quintessential Canadian mashup of crokinole and curling), but there are fewer hours of daylight to fill. 

I felt like there were no expectations of me beyond staying warm and enjoying my surroundings. Winter at Springwood Cottage Resort somehow asks less of you, and in return, it gives you more.

There’s a particular stillness here that comes with the snow. Sound is muffled. The land feels paused. The beach is still there, but instead of towels and sunscreen, guests carry skates. The beach volleyball court transforms into a crokicurl rink, and in 2025 a curling sheet joined the lineup. Summer boating, fishing and swimming give way to skating paths, snowshoe trails and fire pits. 

The Springwood sign on the dock, where weddings are held in the fall, looks like it’s suspended magically on the frozen lake. It’s the same place, just reimagined under a cloak of snow.

Winter activities fill the daylight hours. A new one-kilometre snowshoe loop winds through the property, revealing ravines, wildlife tracks and the kind of quiet that makes you whisper without realizing it. Christine and Ed Chaplin, Springwood’s owners, take me for a romp through the bush.

A skating path is cleared around a small island just offshore on Kennebec Lake. There’s curling and crokicurl under the day’s sun, at sunset, and under string lights at night. I try them all briefly, not wanting to have any FOMO. 

The fire pit beckons, with hot chocolate and s’mores elevated with Canadian-made Celebration chocolate covered cookies replacing the graham crackers. I realize that I haven’t eaten since before packing up in the morning, and I am ready for the sweet hit of warmth. My marshmallow toasting skills are not out of practice and I drop a golden orb of sweetness into my cocoa.

I’m in cabin four, which is well beyond my needs for this stay. I wish I had brought family or friends with me, because I have three bedrooms, and without couch surfing, could easily sleep seven. 

Eight cottages are fully winterized, thoughtfully equipped, and refreshingly low-maintenance. There’s no hauling bedding or towels, and no scrambling to remember hair dryers or dish soap. Like six of the other winter cabins, mine has a private hot tub on the deck. I’m being treated to a delightful taste of winter cottage life, without the work that often comes with owning one.

I leave my towel and robe inside, where they’ll stay warm, grab my flip flops and cross the frozen deck boards. My skin barely notices the cold before being submerged in the tub’s enveloping heat. Once I settled in, the birds returned to their dance at the feeder, providing me with a hot tub and a show. 

I’m already blissfully tired, and getting into a relaxing hot tub might have been a mistake, because it is beginning to feel like bedtime. I thank winter for its built-in gift of darkness coming early. 

After my hot tub, I can turn my attention to making dinner without guilt at dusk which was before 5 p.m.. The owners are setting up the wood-fired oven for personal pizzas. I’ve brought sliced chicken, peppers, and mushrooms for a barbecue chicken pizza and I’m salivating at the thought.

Dinner feels earned, and so does a local craft beer. My favourite is the Old Man’s Strength Stout from Kick & Push Brewery. 

My energy is now renewed and I can’t wait to play some games. Each cottage has a couple of card games, and mine has two easter-eggs hidden below the coffee table and bar, with a mini roulette wheel and craps table. But I’m heading to the games room in the main building.

Springwood’s games room is, quite frankly, jaw-dropping. One full wall and a half is lined with shelves of board and card games, meticulously sorted by age, difficulty and type. Strategy games. Family games. Dexterity games. Even an 18+ category. There’s a pool table, foosball, crokinole, chess, a Pac-Man table that sparks instant nostalgia, and enough space to spread out without feeling crowded.

The resort has full Wi-Fi, but it’s almost beside the point. When you’re choosing between video games and this plethora of board games, screens tend to lose. The Chickadee TV outside my living room offers better programming than any streaming service. Chickadees, finches, blue jays, nuthatches, woodpeckers and the occasional squirrel jockey for position, providing hours of low-stakes drama that requires no remote.

Winter cottage time is different because expectations are different. You don’t feel pressure to be productive or adventurous every moment. You don’t measure the trip by how much you managed to squeeze in (though I squeezed in a lot). 

Instead, the days can unfold simply: outside, inside, warm, cold, quiet, laughter, rinse and repeat (like the shampoo bottle says).

As I packed up to return home, the flip-flops went back into my bag, having earned their place. Winter, it turns out, might just be the best season to go to the cottage, not despite the cold, but because of it.

And yes, the flip-flops are staying on the packing list for my next visit.