Dear Fellow Snowshoers,
First of all, I must confess to you that I am but a beginner in the snowshoe sport. Neither will I be described as an athlete at any time in the near future. I have very few miles under my belt, and despite living in Canada alongside Lake Huron for many years, I have only just discovered the joys of walking over the snow banks.
What I have to offer you is not my expertise, but the opportunity to learn along with me. In this column, I plan to explore not only pristine snow-covered snowshoe paradise, but also the lore, the nature, and local Canadian culture surrounding this tennis racket-shaped mode of transportation through our wilderness. Hopefully, this will also help me to reclaim a healthier lifestyle. So as I progress, you can cheer me along. I will imagine you, the reader, as a sort of personal trainer! In return for your moral support, I will stop to write as I go, and let you in on some of the most beautiful trails I have found.
I am a bookworm by nature and especially interested in the beauty I find all around me in the natural world. A few years ago, I earned my degree in biological science. Now, I have a keener understanding of things that captivated me since childhood. My love of wildlife and wild places leads naturally to a love of snowshoeing, at least at this latitude, anyway.
Anyone who has a favorite spot in the northern wilderness knows that winter will attempt to dissuade you from seeing it until spring. (Except for the very physically fit, wading through several feet of snow can be miserable, or in my case, impossible.) At first I tried cross country skis to transport me to that little place that nobody knows with the great little clearing circled by majestic trees, and that log that’s just the right angle for leaning back on. You know…… it’s that place where the coffee in your thermos tastes best, and where you get all your best ideas. You feel extra alive when you get there, and just knowing that no one else knows where you are makes it that much more satisfying. Just the thought of the peace and quiet you find there is enough motivation to put on four layers of bulky clothing and emerge from your cozy warm house. I am sure you must know a place like that.
But I digress, back to the skis.
They just weren’t the right tool for the job. So one winter, I stopped into our outdoor gear store, and found a shiny red pair of snowshoes on sale and practically screaming my name. I tried them out a few times, and it was perfect, even with my less than fit physique. Finally, a sport I can fit into my lifestyle, and take at my own pace, literally!
Just after I decided to become a snowshoe adventurer, I had to delay my plans for a while. I ran into some health troubles, and I had a rough year. Now, more than ever, I am excited to get back to doing the things I love and to enjoy life outdoors year round. And my snowshoes may be an integral part of my recovery. I am doing well, but stamina and strength are slow to return. If I was out of shape before, I really have a job to do now. I am looking forward to the challenge, and have been thinking about my snowshoes since last year. They hung there in the garage, waiting patiently. I mentioned my bookworm habits, so of course, by this time I have been reading a lot of winter sojourn- inspiring nonfiction. I am going to quote some of these in my letters to you, when appropriate, and I hope you will seek out the authors while you are warming your feet by the woodstove. I’ve been looking for someone to share them with, since my snow literature praises fell on deaf ears, here, when shoveling driveways was foremost in everyone’s minds. My dad prefers to call it “the white sh—“. It’s funny how even typically, hardy Canadians can be such whiners about the weather.
After a winter of being unable to enjoy the outdoors, you find everything is even more beautiful when you return. I appreciate it more fully, and it strikes me a bit deeper. Maybe it is because of the extra effort needed to do things that were once easy, but I am so thankful for chances to reconnect with the environment that sustains me. I really feel sorry for those I call “snow-handicapped”, who can’t see past the length of their windshield ice scrapers to let it all sink in. I want to share my fascination with them, so they can stop wishing for summer.
The outdoor gear store presented me with a solution in the form of a large yellow sign saying, “Second Pair Half Price”. Now, I can share my snow experiences first hand with one of my favorite naysayers! Ok, so my husband did mention having no intention whatsoever of coming with me, so what? I am a persuasive girl….
Out on the shore we went over big drifts of snow and down onto the frozen lake. It only took him a few hundred yards to admit that his new snowshoes were much better than the awkward torturous ones he wore as a kid. A gorgeous sunset reflected pink and gold light off the uneven surface of the ice, and the sounds of the water beneath as the ice shifted and creaked combined to make our decision unanimous. This was great! We will do this more often, with the eventual goal of an extended hike along the shore. We will do the thing where you put one snowshoe down to sit on, and dig the other partially down in the snow to lean back on. (I read that somewhere.) We will make camp, cook bannock, and learn more about some of the last wild places. A few of which we are lucky enough to have very near our home.
All the while, I will be stopping to write and take photographs, as I do constantly. I will send you some of my favorite moments preserved in this way, and I hope you will be encouraged to find your own favorite spots. Be observant of other inhabitants in your habitat/backyard. Follow some tracks, find a new path, and have an encounter with nature. Then, go home to look up the name of that plant, critter, or bird you met. Read a bit about its life, and then try to allow your own life to cross paths with nature again as soon as you can. Those are my instructions for happiness. Tools required: snowshoes, preferably shiny and red.
Sincerely,
SRW
PS. I didn’t know about the poles, but that is definitely my next purchase. Don’t I feel silly, but the saleslady never mentioned those. Up until now, I had been just trying to keep my balance, and if I sink in on an angle, well….plop. Snow is soft, after all. My trusty friend and dog is kind enough to stand beside me and be the handhold as I pull myself up. He is much more coordinated than I am, and he has four legs to deal with.
