It’s as though I’d never ridden a bike. The tires of my e-bike are slipping and sliding, the handlebar wobbling uncontrollably in my gloved hands. The inch-plus of freshly fallen powder is making it impossible for even the studded, fat bike ones beneath my feet to catch. It’s well below freezing — about 16 degrees — and icicles are forming on my eyelashes.

The general rule of thumb in the outdoors is it’s easier going down than up. If only that were true at this moment. As I try to maneuver my 65-pound e-bike along the slight decline proffered by the double-wide Healy Creek Trail just outside Banff, Alberta, the snow finally wins. I slide out and land in the fluff, surrounded by silence and spruce trees.

In the winter, Healy Creek is limited to fat bikes, snowshoes, cross-country skis and hiking, so there are no revving engines to distract from the wildness. There are also very few people; it’s only myself and my five companions on the trail on this chilly January day.

“This is the best fat biking in Banff,” says our guide, Clare McCann, owner of Bikescape. “It’s so close to town and so accessible, and we have (more than) 4 million people coming to visit us and there’s no one here.”

We’d seen that firsthand the day before when our group passed just a handful of people on our 7.2-mile ride in to Sundance Lodge, the easiest of Banff National Park’s three backcountry lodges to reach. Although it’s close to town (about a 10-minute drive), the solar-powered, 10-room cabin feels like a secret that you have to be let in on.

Banff is a surprise in the winter. I’d expected to maneuver around an endless wave of ski pant–clad tourists while walking along the Canadian Rockies–surrounded main drag, but instead, I find myself sniffing hand-blended teas alone in Jolene’s Tea House and nodding to only a handful of others during an evening walk along Johnston Canyon. Banff National Park, which encompasses the town, Lake Louise and three ski resorts, sees about half as many visitors in the winter as it does in the summer.

That’s good news for Coloradans who are battling increasingly more people for access to the slopes and seats at mountain town restaurants. Banff is a direct flight, from Denver to Calgary, and 1.5-hour drive away (shuttles are readily available).

Sundance Lodge is operated by Banff Trail Riders and, in the winter, is only open from mid-January through mid-March.

“There are a huge number of people who want a backcountry experience who don’t want to risk their lives in the winter to do it,” said Julie Canning, operating partner of Banff Trail Riders.

Adventurers can either book a day trip with Bikescape or venture to the cabin on their own after securing a room through Banff Trail Riders (starting around $200 per person per night, with three meals included). Gear rentals are available in town.

Though the experience is fully in the backcountry — bears, cougars and wolves call the area home, though we didn’t see any — the trail is easy to follow, and e-bikes make it a more accessible adventure for generally fit people.

That’s not to say it’s a painless commute. E-biking multiple miles in freezing temperatures builds up a sweat despite the aid of a motor. I ditched my goggles early on after they iced over (sunglasses would have been smarter), and I was jealous of those in my crew who had heated socks, which were much more effective than the toe warmers sandwiched between a double layer of socks that I had.

The route was relatively packed down, but the ground was soft, and it took a few minutes to get a handle, literally, on the heavy, battery-powered bike and find the right gears. I was able to rev up to 16 mph — a boost on the mostly uphill terrain on the way in — but still felt it in my quads and upper arms as I worked to keep the tires straight, particularly during our two bridge crossings.

We arrived at Sundance in less than two hours, the two-story log cabin appearing like a mirage as we rounded Brewster Creek. Inside, I ditched my wet layers and headed straight for the wood-burning fireplace; refreshments and mini quiches, made by the on-site cook, helped satiate our crew until our home-cooked dinner. Indoor plumbing meant flushing toilets (shared, in two downstairs bathrooms) and hot showers. My upstairs bedroom was comfortably outfitted with warm blankets, a small desk, mirror, hooks for stinky clothes and a double bed and bunkbed.

I turned out the light early, the moon allowing a gray outline of the jagged Sundance Range to be visible through the window. The only sound was the lodge’s generator. Whatever animals were outside the walls were probably trying to stay warm, too.

We awoke in the morning to a surprise: more than an inch of snow. It delayed our start as we waited for the sun to warm the route a bit.

“You’re going to fall,” McCann told us over a breakfast spread of eggs, pancakes, hash browns and sausages.

Turns out, fresh powder makes fat biking more challenging. Instead of our back tires skidding a little as they had on our way in, our front tires lost full control, skating back and forth. I fell at least five times. On a couple of occasions, the bike started to tip, and I stepped off. Once, I tumbled over to my right and my handlebars wound up snarled in a tree.

It was frustrating. I learned to bike as a kid, but I had to walk my e-fat bike across one of the bridges and along a section with a mild drop-off that unsettled my nerves. While it felt like slow going, I soon realized I was regularly cruising at 9 mph.

By the time we reached the trailhead more than two hours later, I was an icicle. Even with heated gloves, my hands were frigid, and the sweat down my back was chilling me from the inside out.

But it was also the most fun I’d had in the snow in a while. Fat biking in subzero temperatures to a secret lodge in the woods was a new adventure and one well worth the effort — with the right attire, that is.