Friday, February 21, 2014
I don't know much about the history of snowshoes. I don't even know what brand I own. What I do know is that I like the places they take me to a lot! Skinny trails, weaving in and out of trees, up and down hills, in places that grooming machines for cross-country skiiers couldn't ever manage.
When we were up north, a friend and I went on a three-hour snowshoe hike. It was fantastic! The views were great, the solitude was immense, and we only lost the trail a few times. It had snowed quite a bit and in places the wind had blown much of the new snow into the trail, obscuring it.
We would see an impression in the snow ten feet ahead of us and another impression twenty feet ahead of that one. So we kept going, and sure enough when we got off the snow-blown ridge, the trail magically reappeared. (We also thought we were on the right track because the footing below us was mostly solid. If we stepped off the trail, we usually went down a few extra feet into the snow.)
I fell at least twice and had to crawl my way out of the snow and back onto the trail. My legs ached that evening and most of the next day. But my feet never got cold, and I would do it all over again to have that experience in the deep woods.
With lighter snowshoes next time?