Yellowknife (Jan 12/07) - So, where do you start with the SnowKing?

For over a decade, the wintry maven of icy delight has hosted raves, carnivals, concerts and more at his annual snow castle, which springs each year from the snow and ice of Great Slave Lake.

The SnowKing himself stands in the snow block arch that will be the entranceway to his winter castle. He warns curious Yellowknifers that the castle is still under construction. - Adam Johnson/NNSL photo

That means more than a decade of stories, chronicling the ups and downs of the King's rise to stardom, from the lows of cancelled festivals, thefts and sculpture beheadings to the highs of national exposure on CBC and entertaining hundreds, if not thousands, of Yellowknifers.

A good way to start is by braving the cold and wind of Yellowknife Bay to take in the construction yourself. Unfortunately, a 28,000 square-kilometre ice heatsink (known to most as Great Slave Lake) can suck the warmth out even the best-intentioned of bad clothing choices.

On an average Sunday, you can find the SnowKing (known the rest of the year as Anthony Foliot) and his trusty "flakes" cutting up blocks of snow for construction. They include "Mr. Freeze," "Snowbank Frank," "Shiverin' Sam," the "Snowprentice" and even "Snobody Uno."

They've been at it since December, moving snow into huge plywood cubes with a snow blower, then letting it set. Like concrete, the snow forms a dense, 1.5 metre-high cube, which is cut with a saw into more manageable shapes. These pieces are then turned into walls and archways.

In the centre of the future "courtyard," a huge imposing block stands alone.

"That's the deadman's slide," SnowKing says, a returning feature from SnowKing V.

"It will have an exit, an entrance and the thrill of a lifetime, and that's all we're saying."

Like many details of the castle's construction, details of the slide are kept secret, something that makes each winter carnival a surprise.

However, SnowKing did talk about plans to build a larger concession with a vaulted ceiling this year, tentatively called SnowBank Frank's Royal Cafe, as well as adding a backstage area for performers.

He says he hopes the cafe will bring the festival some much-needed revenue, which might help the carnival break even this year.

"We've got to try to make it sustainable so the festival can survive," he says. "SnowKing XII is going for the 50 this year."

With that in mind, some other features are out, such as the chapel for weddings and the snotel which allowed visitors to spend a night at the snow castle.

"People liked to look at it," he says, "but we only had two bookings last year."

No one signed up to get hitched this year, either, though SnowKing says arrangements can be made if anyone gets the urge.

In total the SnowKing says his castle has hosted seven weddings.

"Nobody got cold feet," he says, trotting out one of his favourite jokes.

While the work site is a curiosity for locals and visitors alike, SnowKing asks that people keep their distance for the next month or so until the castle is officially opened.

"Give us a chance to work," he says. "And don't drive in, we don't have a parking lot yet."

That said, I move over to my parked-a-little-too-close vehicle to get the feeling back in my hands, but not before the SnowKing imparts a bit of wisdom.

"You know what this is?" he asks, standing an oblong piece of snow on end outside the future castle grounds.

"This is the first line of defence for a snow castle."

As he pointed, I notice tell-tale yellow markings on the snow-obelisks (snobelisks?) marking the castle's outskirts, left by neighboring dogs.

"By the time they get to the big castle, they're all out," he says with a laugh.