IF YOU CAN HIKE, YOU CAN SNOWSHOE
Years ago, when I first introduced my teenaged daughter, Alissa, to snowshoeing, she thought it would be booooring. Why, reasoned my downhill denizen of black-diamond steeps and snowboard bumps and jumps, would we want to walk when we could glide? But now Alissa is the one who suggests that we save time on our ski trips for a magical walk in the woods. This time, we chose a guided snowshoe hike with the Norwegian School of Nature Life in Park City, Utah. On a frosty, sunny afternoon, she and I walked into a setting that reminded me of a fairy tale--a snow-covered pine forest that sparkles in the winter light. Just a few steps into our outing, the crowded slopes and the bustle of the ski base seemed a world away.The joy of this sport is simple: If you can hike, you can snowshoe. It is one of the few winter adventures that comes free of a learning curve; the snowshoer's stride comes almost instinctively. Even kids as young as age 5 enjoy the forest on their first foray while wearing today's lightweight silver shoes, which are easier to manage than the old tennis-racket type. In fact, Sherpas (a brand I've found is excellent for children because of the range of smaller sizes and the rounded, rectangular design) are so comfortable one can barely feel them when walking over the snow.
As we slowly trekked toward Daly Canyon, we took time to chat, enjoy the silence and soak up the landscape. Here, unlike in daily life, we notice the details. That's a major part of "friluftslib," Norwegian for "open-air life," the philosophy espoused by Brett Adams, our mentor (not just leader) from the nonprofit outdoor education group. "Listen," he said softly. Alissa comments on the soft crunch of the crampons (the snowshoes' "teeth") as they dig into the path. "Look," he said. Halfway into our two-hour hike we paused at the top of a small hill to watch the flurry of whirling snowflakes gradually thicken.
Somewhere on our way back, when I heard giggles rippling behind me, I turned around. Alissa told me I've been strolling along for a couple of minutes minus one snowshoe; they're so light I hadn't even noticed when one fell off. Once the snowshoe was strapped firmly on my foot again, my daughter and I spontaneously danced along the trail, laughing at the funny patterns we created with our "big feet." As the path's end came in sight, we lingered despite the dropping temperatures, looking for more weasel and bird tracks in the high drifts. We knew that when we unbuckled our silver shoes and climbed back into the car, the mood would be broken. For us, snowshoeing is part sport and part spell.
Please keep in mind that phone numbers, addresses, and prices are subject to change. Updated July 2005.
