Hey there, Donny Love here! Star of “Adventures Unknown” and born-and-raised Newfoundlander. Let me tell you something about winter in my homeland—it ain’t just about sippin’ hot cocoa by the fire. Nah, for folks like me, winter in Newfoundland is when the real fun begins!
After spending my entire life exploring every nook and cranny of this magnificent island, I’ve become something of an expert on the extreme winter sports that make my heart race. Whether I’m filming for the show or just out with my buddies on the weekend, these are the thrills that keep me coming back year after year.
There’s nothing—and I mean nothing—like the feeling of standing atop one of the Long Range Mountains, looking out at pristine powder that hasn’t seen a single track. I’ve been backcountry skiing these slopes since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and the thrill never gets old.
When I’m filming “Adventures Unknown,” I often take the crew to my secret spots in Gros Morne. The cameramen struggle to keep up, but man, the footage we get makes it all worthwhile! The way the light hits the snow just right as you’re carving down an untouched hillside—that’s the stuff that makes life worth living.
My favorite route? Well, I can’t give away all my secrets, but let’s just say there’s a particular ridge in the Western Brook Pond area that’ll give you views that’ll make your heart stop. Just remember to pack extra layers—I learned that lesson the hard way back in ’98 during a particularly nasty storm!
I remember one time we were filming a special episode during a rare blue-sky day after three days of continuous snowfall. My buddy Marcus and I hiked for four hours to reach this untouched bowl that locals call “Heaven’s Gate.” When we dropped in, the powder was so deep it was like floating on clouds. The camera drone captured it all—my momentary disappearance beneath the powder and emergence with a face full of snow and the biggest grin of my life. That episode won us an award for “Best Extreme Sports Cinematography,” and I’ve got the trophy sitting right next to my grandmother’s old cod jigger—my two proudest possessions.
Listen, if you haven’t driven an ice axe into a frozen waterfall while dangling 100 feet above the ground, you haven’t truly lived! Ice climbing in Newfoundland isn’t just a sport—it’s a way to connect with the raw power of our island.
I remember my first climb in Humber Valley like it was yesterday. My knees were knocking so hard I thought they’d break the ice! Now, twenty-some years later, I still get butterflies, but that’s half the fun.
The crew loves when we film ice climbing episodes—they’re always our highest-rated shows. There’s something about watching someone (usually me!) tackle these frozen giants that resonates with people. Though I suspect they’re just waiting for me to slip! Don’t worry, folks—Donny Love knows his way around an ice axe.
Last winter, we filmed what I consider the crown jewel of Newfoundland ice climbing—the back side of Gros Morne’s “Frozen Tears.” It’s this massive ice formation that only appears in the coldest years, maybe once a decade. My old climbing mentor, Jack O’Neill, was the first person to ever scale it back in the ’80s, and he joined us for the climb at 72 years old! That man still moves like a mountain goat, I tell ya. We spent three days camping at the base, waiting for the perfect conditions. When we finally made the ascent, with the pale winter sun creating rainbows through the ice, I had to stop halfway up just to take it all in. Some moments are too perfect even for television.
If you’ve caught my show, you know my sled is practically my winter home. I’ve crossed the entire T’Railway Provincial Park more times than I can count, and I still discover new wonders every season.
Let me tell you about the time I got caught in a whiteout near Lewis Hills. My buddies and I had to hunker down in a self-made snow shelter for nearly 24 hours! Made for a great episode, but I wouldn’t recommend it without proper training. Still, there’s something magical about the rumble of your machine as you blast through powder so deep it flies over your windshield.
When you’ve lived here as long as I have, you learn to read the snow, to understand the terrain. That knowledge doesn’t just make for better television—it keeps you alive out there when Mother Nature decides to remind you who’s boss.
My customized Ski-Doo—”The Newfie Bullet,” as the crew calls it—has taken me to places so remote that sometimes I truly believe I’m the first human to ever set eyes on them. There’s a particular valley north of Corner Brook that we discovered during season four. It’s surrounded by these natural snow sculptures formed by wind, creating what looks like a prehistoric city frozen in time. We filmed a special there called “Donny’s Ice Kingdom” where I spent a week living among these formations, tracking the island’s elusive snow fox and building snow caves beneath these magnificent arches. The producers initially thought it would be boring television, but it ended up being one of our most breathtaking episodes.
The bond between a musher and his dogs—it’s something special. I’ve been running dogs since my uncle first put me on a sled at age seven, and those huskies know the trails of Newfoundland better than any GPS.
My lead dog, Thunder, has been with me for eight seasons of “Adventures Unknown,” and viewers love him almost as much as they love me! There’s nothing like the sound of the runners on fresh snow, the excited barks of the team, and the cold wind on your face as you mush through the wilderness.
I take my sled team out near Butter Pot Provincial Park whenever I can. There’s a stretch there where, if you time it right, you’ll be sledding under the northern lights. We caught it on film once—still my proudest moment on the show.
Not many folks know this, but I actually rescued Thunder as a pup during a particularly rough winter. Found him abandoned near an old trapper’s cabin while filming a segment on traditional survival techniques. He was this tiny ball of fluff, barely alive in the snow. I tucked him inside my parka and mushed 40 kilometers back to civilization. The vet didn’t think he’d make it, but Thunder’s got the same stubborn spirit as his master. Six months later, he was running lead on my team and stealing scenes on the show. We’ve been inseparable ever since—he even has his own fan club! The network tried to give him his own spin-off show, but I told ’em, “Thunder only performs for treats and belly rubs, not fame.”
When the cameras stop rolling and I need to clear my head, I strap on the snowshoes. After 40 years exploring Newfoundland winters, sometimes the most profound adventures are the quietest ones.
Last winter, I snowshoed the entire eastern section of the East Coast Trail. Took me three weeks, camping along the way. No film crew, no timeline—just me, the snow, and the Atlantic crashing against ice-covered cliffs. Those moments of solitude reconnect me to what makes Newfoundland special.
I’ve found artifacts from old settlements, watched moose silently trek through snow-laden forests, and meditated on cliff tops as the sun rose over the ocean. None of that makes for exciting television, but it feeds my soul like nothing else.
There’s this hidden cove near Trinity that I’ve never revealed on the show—some places are too sacred to share with the world. It’s where my grandfather used to take me ice fishing as a boy. The walk in requires about four hours on snowshoes, crossing frozen bogs and navigating through dense forest. But when you emerge on that perfect horseshoe bay, with sea ice stretching out and the occasional seal popping its head up through a breathing hole… well, that’s the real Newfoundland right there. I still bring my grandfather’s old hand-carved snowshoes with me each time I go. They hang on my wall the rest of the year—a reminder that sometimes the old ways are still the best ways.
Speaking of ice fishing, that’s another winter passion of mine that doesn’t always make it onto “Adventures Unknown” because, let’s be honest, watching a man stare at a hole in the ice doesn’t make for thrilling TV! But for me, it’s about connecting with my heritage.
Newfoundlanders have been ice fishing these waters for generations, and when I’m sitting on my bucket with my grandfather’s old jigger in hand, I feel like I’m part of something timeless. I still use his techniques—the specific way to move the line, the types of bait he swore by, even the little prayers he’d mutter under his breath when the fish weren’t biting.
I’ve got this special spot on Paddy’s Pond where I’ve been catching speckled trout every winter since I was ten. The network execs finally let me film an ice fishing special last season after years of begging. We called it “Donny’s Cold Catch,” and I got to showcase not just the fishing but the culture around it—the camaraderie, the stories told in ice huts, the traditional fish fry afterward.
My proudest moment wasn’t even catching the monster brook trout that now hangs on my wall (though that was a beauty, let me tell ya!)—it was teaching my nephew how to ice fish using my grandfather’s equipment. Four generations of Love men, connected through the ice. That’s the stuff that matters, folks.
Now, if you want to talk extreme, let’s talk about winter camping in Newfoundland’s backcountry. This isn’t your summer tent and sleeping bag kind of experience—this is survival with style, as I like to call it.
I’ve spent countless nights in snow caves, quinzhees, and traditional canvas hot tents across this island. There’s something profoundly satisfying about building your shelter from the very elements that threaten your survival. The network hesitated when I pitched a three-part special on winter camping techniques, but “Donny’s Deep Freeze” ended up being one of our educational highlights.
My favorite camping experience? Had to be the time I spent a week with the Cree elders from Labrador, learning their traditional winter camping methods. We built a snow house using techniques passed down for generations, harvested local materials for bedding, and lived off the land in -30°C weather. The camera batteries kept freezing, driving our poor tech guy nearly to tears! But the knowledge those elders shared—about reading weather patterns in the stars, finding food beneath feet of snow, and creating warmth in the most inhospitable conditions—that’s wisdom you can’t get anywhere else.
I still use a moose hide sleeping mat they taught me how to make, and it’s the warmest bedding I’ve ever owned. Sometimes the old ways really are the best ways, especially when it comes to surviving a Newfoundland winter!
One of the newer additions to my winter adventure arsenal is kite skiing. Imagine combining the speed of downhill skiing with the lift of kiteboarding—it’s an adrenaline rush like no other!
The first time I tried it was actually an accident. We were filming a cross-country skiing segment on the barrens near St. John’s during one of our legendary winter gales. I had this emergency shelter tarp in my pack that caught a gust and nearly pulled me off my feet. Instead of fighting it, I opened it fully and let the wind carry me across the plateau. The camera operator thought I was having an equipment malfunction until he saw me laughing like a madman!
After that, I got proper training and equipment. Now, the frozen ponds and wind-swept plateaus of Newfoundland are my playground. On a good day with strong winds, I can hit speeds of 70 km/h, catching air off snow drifts and covering vast distances with barely any effort.
We dedicated an entire episode to kite skiing across the frozen expanse of Grand Lake—Newfoundland’s largest lake. The conditions were perfect that day—20 knots of wind, clear skies, and miles of untouched ice. I traveled nearly 100 kilometers in a single day, setting what my producer claims is an unofficial Newfoundland record. The footage from the drone following me across that vast white canvas with the Long Range Mountains in the background still gives me goosebumps when I watch it.
Ever seen an ice boat? Picture a sailboat with steel runners instead of a hull, capable of speeds three times faster than the wind that powers it. It’s sailing, but on ice, and it’s one of the most exhilarating winter activities you can experience in Newfoundland.
I built my first ice boat in my father’s shed when I was 19, using old hockey skate blades and a windsurfing sail. It was crude but fast, and I was hooked from my first run across Windsor Lake. These days, I have a custom racing ice yacht that we featured in season seven of “Adventures Unknown.”
The episode “Donny’s Ice Rocket” follows my attempt to break the ice boating speed record on the frozen plains of Deer Lake. With perfect black ice and steady winds, we clocked 135 km/h—the closest thing to flying while still touching the earth. The camera crew had to use a specialized vehicle just to keep up with me!
What makes ice boating in Newfoundland special is the diverse terrain. One day you can be racing across a perfectly flat frozen lake, and the next day navigating the frozen coastal inlets with their dramatic cliff backdrops. There’s a particular thrill to ice boating near the ocean, where the salt spray creates these incredible ice formations along the shoreline. You feel like you’re sailing through some kind of crystal fantasy world.
I’ve taken celebrities and professional athletes ice boating on the show, and it never fails to leave them speechless. When you’re skimming across the ice faster than a car can legally drive, with nothing but wind power and the sound of steel on ice, there’s a purity to the experience that can’t be matched.
Fat biking is the newest addition to my winter adventure toolkit, and let me tell you, these specialized bikes with their oversized tires have opened up a whole new world of Newfoundland winter exploration.
I was skeptical at first—bikes on snow seemed like a recipe for frustration. But after trying it on the groomed trails near Corner Brook, I was instantly converted. The massive tires float on packed snow, giving you access to forest trails and coastal paths that would be impossibly difficult to reach otherwise.
We’ve dedicated several episodes to fat biking adventures, including “Donny’s Coastal Cruise” where I spent a week traveling the frozen coastline from Bonavista to Trinity, camping along the way. The ability to cover 40-50 kilometers a day while still being able to navigate narrow trails and carry gear makes fat biking perfect for winter expeditions.
My favorite fat biking memory was discovering an abandoned logging road near Gander that led to a frozen waterfall I’d never seen documented before. I named it “Lucy’s Veil” after my late mother—she always loved discovering new places. The bike allowed me to access an area that would have been too exhausting to reach on snowshoes and impossible by snowmobile due to the dense forest. I returned the following summer to confirm it wasn’t on any maps. Sometimes I think there are still plenty of secrets left in Newfoundland, waiting for someone stubborn enough to find them.
Finally, let’s talk about the winter activity that requires the least equipment but perhaps the most courage—the traditional Newfoundland polar bear dip!
Every New Year’s Day for the past 25 years, I’ve led the annual “Donny’s Dip for Charity” at Middle Cove Beach. What started as a dare between me and five friends has grown into a major event that attracts hundreds of participants and raises thousands for local children’s hospitals.
There’s something uniquely cleansing about immersing yourself in the near-freezing North Atlantic in the dead of winter. It’s a physical reset—a way to wash away the old year and embrace the new one with a shock to the system that leaves you feeling absolutely alive.
We’ve filmed the event for “Adventures Unknown” several times, but my personal favorite was our 20th anniversary dip. The temperature had dropped to -15°C overnight, creating this ethereal steam rising from the ocean. When our group of now over 300 people ran into that water, with the steam swirling around us and ice forming in our hair within seconds of emerging—it was magical chaos.
The best part is watching first-timers experience that unique combination of regret, panic, exhilaration, and finally pride as they emerge from the water. There’s a special camaraderie among people who’ve willingly done something so objectively uncomfortable together. We always finish with a massive bonfire, hot chocolate (often with a splash of Screech for the adults), and traditional Newfoundland music.
Being Donny Love, the “Adventure Guy” on TV, is great. But being Donny Love, a Newfoundlander who’s lucky enough to call this winter wonderland home—that’s the real privilege.
If you’re thinking of visiting our island for some extreme winter adventures, do it. But respect the land, prepare properly, and know your limits. Newfoundland winters have taught me humility more times than I care to admit on national television!
Over my decades exploring this remarkable island, I’ve come to realize that extreme sports and adventures are really just different ways of connecting—connecting with the land, with our heritage, with ourselves, and with each other. Whether you’re carving fresh powder on a backcountry slope, racing across a frozen lake with a kite pulling you forward, or simply sitting quietly by an ice fishing hole contemplating life, Newfoundland’s winter landscape has a way of putting things in perspective.
The island has been my greatest teacher, my most challenging adversary, and my most faithful friend. Through blizzards and blue skies, through television fame and private moments of quiet wonder, this rock in the North Atlantic has shaped who I am.
So grab your gear and come join me in the real Newfoundland—the one that comes alive when the mercury drops and the snow flies. Bring your sense of adventure, your respect for nature, and your warmest mittens. I’ll leave a light on for ya, and maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll show you a secret spot or two that’s never made it onto “Adventures Unknown.”
Because some adventures are too special to share with everyone—but for readers of this blog, I might just make an exception.
Catch you on the trails,
Donny Love
Star of “Adventures Unknown” and proud Newfoundlander.
