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Another Perspective
Who Needs Aspen?
Snowshoeing along the Montana border.
I turned 56 last week and took up snowshoeing three days later. The question is: Is this a wise thing to do? I’ve been told that recreation should become less strenuous with age, and the following morning I had a bad case of what French-Canadian fur trappers of yore called “mal de raquette” (more later). Aging is, of course, a main component of the existential dilemma, but the snowshoeing I can blame on the girls.
A few months ago I joined a local hiking club, and though there are roughly forty people on the e-mail list, I’ve only met a dozen or so, the latter group being regular hikers. We meet every Thursday morning in the Alco (a Salmon department store) parking lot, which happens to be behind my apartment building. From there we carpool a few miles to that day’s designated hike. Cold weather doesn’t faze us, but we do have a below zero rule. If it’s below zero at 9 a.m. that day’s designated hike is cancelled. And we hike in falling snow as long as it’s not a serious snowstorm.
I describe the club as “the girls” because I’ve only met two other men and they’re not regulars. The girls are of retirement age, married, and their husbands — working or retired themselves — don’t hike. I would hazard a guess that if there is a singular American demographic group serious about regular exercise, it would be women who are Baby Boomers or slightly older. On snowshoeing day it was Barbara, Marlene, Mary and Sharon.
The five of us drove 45 miles north up Route 93 to Lost Trail Pass (El. 7,014) on the Montana line, and a couple of miles farther to the Chief Joseph Pass Cross Country (XC) Ski Area with its freely accessed miles of groomed trails on Montana’s Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest. The snow was three or four feet deep and lined the perimeter of the plowed parking lot in much higher white walls. The lodgepole pines looked like collapsed white parasols. There at 7,000 feet a gentle light snow drifted out of wispily transparent clouds that promised a sunny day. It was a bucolic scene, and even the “vault” toilet next to the parking looked liked it might grace a Christmas card. Though when I used it I found it drafty from many directions. We strapped on our short aluminum-framed snowshoes and in single file headed up the trail, staying to the right side because we shared it with cross country skiers. Marlene — who knew the trails from many skiing trips — boldly led the group like Jim Bridger piloting a brigade of traveling trappers. Mary had a good identifying eye for critter tracks on the trail, mostly from rabbits and the spindly markings of birds. We didn’t want to run into a cow moose and calf this day, or any day. The deer and elk were now in lower elevations out of the deep snow.
The trick to snowshoeing is to lean slightly forward and distinctly pick up your feet. And the ski poles we used were handy to maintain balance and assist forward motion. I fell only once, and that was because I walked over an odd sinkhole in the trail and sank a couple of feet. The trail followed undulating terrain atop a plateau on the pass. Uphill was strenuous; downhill easier, but harder on the legs. There were occasional mountain views, but mostly we traveled through that white forest of ten feet tall snowcrusted lodgepoles, and sweated despite the cold.
Archeologists tell us that humans have been snowshoeing for five thousand years, as stretched animal hide shoes that old have been found in Central Europe. But snowshoeing as we know it is North American in origin. In his 17th-century memoirs Samuel de Champlain wrote of Algonquin and Huron hunters who, “when there is much snow they make a kind of snowshoe… and thus go on the snow without sinking into it, otherwise they would not be able to hunt or go from one location to the other”. The French “voyageurs” quickly adopted the long hardwood framed and rawhide webbed snowshoes that aided their trapping and trading forays into the Canadian wilderness. During the French and Indian War, a 1758 skirmish in the winter woods near Fort Ticonderoga has come down to us as “The Battle on Snowshoes”.
I wonder if those guys while shooting muskets and ducking arrows had trouble keeping the damn things on their feet. Barbara — who had lent me the snowshoes that I was wearing — was behind me and coaching my initial steps. I kept losing my right snowshoe and wasn’t even aware of it until I’d taken an extra step, my unshod foot awkwardly plunging deep into the snow. “There it goes again,” she’d say. At her urging I finally remedied this by securing the heel strap farther up on my ankle. And walking slightly pigeon-toed felt more comfortable. Though this is probably why my calves, insteps, and Achilles’ tendons ached upon rising the next morning. The mincing-step lameness of the “mal de raquette”.
At lunchtime outside the comfortable warming hut three miles up the trail I took Sharon’s picture with her digital camera. It was now a gloriously sunny day with the sun sparkling off the snow. Sunscreen and dark glasses mandatory. Barbara remarked that it was as if we were all on vacation at a ritzy Colorado ski resort.
But counting friendship and camaraderie, it was even better than that.
About the Author
Bill Croke, formerly of Cody, Wyoming, is a writer in Salmon, Idaho.
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Kitty| 2.3.10 @ 7:14AM
Happy Birthday!
...
Roger| 2.3.10 @ 8:08AM
Good Fun! Barbara understands as my parents did. When my sister and I were growing up our parents took us on many trips across our great country. In the car,staying at less than swank motels or hotels, and once even renting a small camping trailer to go to Yellowstone. Financially rich we weren't, but blessed in most other ways. Often my father would comment upon our good fortune of family and travel as Barbara did by saying to us all "I wonder what the poor people are doing today?" We would all laugh because we knew the rich reward of the day had not been 'purchased'. Thanks Bill, and Happy Birthday.
donserge| 2.3.10 @ 9:09AM
Bill, you brought back memories of my hunting experiences in the forests north of Jackman ME. The woods seem to go on forever. Climb one hill to get your bearings and all one sees is another hill. I probably crossed into Quebec many times without realizing it, as no one has painted a line on the forest floor delineating the border. A wonderful experience, trudging through a foot of new fallen snow, all alone in a vast forested area.
Daniel| 2.3.10 @ 10:28AM
Nice article, but you portray a part of Montana that only a lucky few of the local population are able to experience. It has been a long time, but if memory serves there are basically two types of people in the college towns of Bozeman and Missoula: the ones who are flush with money, and are able to live in custom-designed log homes with a fully stocked wine cellar and a trout stream in the backyard, and are able to take an afternoon with "the girls" snowshoeing, or skiing at Big Sky, etc...and trust me, they can easily afford to warm up afterwards with a nice dinner at the Bistro. THEN there are the rest: the ones who work two jobs to pay their way through MSU or UM, who work the lift lines at Big Sky but can't afford to ski there, and maybe they go to a restaurant like the 4Bs once or twice a year. Folks that are destined to graduate from school to a local economy with no real jobs or prospects, and little chance of starting their own business (unless, of course, the Amway way is appealing to them). Like anywhere else, Montana is a paradise but only to those who have the cash and the leisure time to take advantage.
barbara| 2.3.10 @ 8:41PM
I'm Barbara from the article, and just have to comment that the reason we, as retired teachers, moved to this area was that we could have a better life with less money, as well as enjoy the outdoors. I went through college on work study and worked all my life while raising my kids, probably with less 'gadgets' and 'toys' than Daniel has, or apparently wants. The poorest people in our country are better off than most people in other countries. Count your blessings and enjoy whatever you can where ever you are - you'll be happier!
Daniel| 2.6.10 @ 10:51AM
Hello Barbara,
Congratulations on your success, and I hope you enjoy the Rockies as I once did.
In the mid-90s, as a college graduate (MSU) with a wife & baby to take care of, and the only job available was as a night clerk in a motel making $6/hour, I was hardly in a position to have any "gadgets" or "toys" unless you count a toaster-oven as a luxury item. That being said, my point was that Montana was and is a wonderful place to live, expecially for a retiree. For a young family, not so much. The local economy in the 1990s was stagnant at best while the rest of the country was booming, and little has changed since then. MSU produces marvelously educated young people every year, who then have to leave the state in order to make a living. It doesn't have to be that way.
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Denise Thornton | 2.3.10 @ 12:39PM
This is a great piece on snow shoes. I have been sold on them as a great winter activity for many years. I just turned 60, and in great health, and snow shoes is one of the winter reasons.
I would urge anyone who lives where there is snow to strap on a pair. check out my post on shoeing in Wisconsin
http://digginginthedriftless.w.....now-shoes/
Irish Spectre| 2.3.10 @ 12:51PM
With no disrespect at all intended, as a guy (albeit middle-aged, as age 50 claims me in but a couple of weeks), I think that I'd have to resort to a mountain of kidding of myself in order to believe that I was having fun with a bunch of similarly aged women, no matter WHAT the occasion!
Kitty| 2.3.10 @ 1:51PM
I'll bet the feeling is mutual.
...
Pingback| 2.3.10 @ 2:10PM
Colorado Mountain Vacations » Blog Archive » The American Spectator : Who Needs Aspen links to this page. Here’s an excerpt:
darcy| 2.3.10 @ 5:37PM
Alrighty now, this is a scene (Lost Trail Pass) of which I have intimate experience -- but on cross-country skies, not snow shoes. And the year was about 1987, January. Our group included my six-year-old daughter, who half way along the trail simply gave out; she and I stayed overnight in a primitive cabin, reserved for those skiers-in who rent it out for their version of the frontier experience. And convenient -- and heaven-sent -- it proved for the daughter and me, trapped in the back country as dusk approached. The plan was that the males would swiftly ski out and return forthwith in snowmobiles to return us to civilization; but alas, the night grew long and cold, our having no blankets and only the hint of heat from a woodstove, supplied only 'til lights out by the man and his wife who had rented the cabin and were graciously sharing it with us. And no sign of our rescuers, upon whom I had trusted completely to save us.
But miraculously the wife had packed two times the amount of food they needed and so were able to provide us with just enough calories to get us through the night. She kept commenting on how fortuitous her food-packing had been, and that she'd never even thought to pack so much food on previous trips.
And what Daniel asserts about the people who get to experience the paradise of Montana isn't quite the whole truth. In fact, many people take pay cuts and choose to live a simple existence just to be there and enjoy the restful pace of life and the scenic beauties of Montana. These people somehow find the means to get out and ski the backcountry, hike, and fish.
thanks for the opportunity to tell my story
darcy| 2.3.10 @ 5:50PM
A slight revision: Our skiing adventure was at Chief Joseph Pass, not Lost Trail.
Roger| 2.3.10 @ 6:20PM
Daniel, why so down? Count lifes blessings not lifes hurdles. Anyone with a pair of snowshoes and a couple of gallons of gas could have Bills experience there. Worry or envy over someones elses situation won't do you or anyone any good. I guess there is the adage of whether yours glass is half full or half empty.
Daniel| 2.5.10 @ 9:53AM
Why so down? I grew up in Montana but now I live in New Jersey! OK, OK, it is not so bad but Delaware Water Gap is hardly comparable to Glacier Park. The point I was trying to make was that Montana is a wonderful place and that good people are leaving in droves because the local economy is so terrible. It doesn't have to be that way, which is why I embrace capitalism and free enterprise and private property rights, etc...
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explosion proof light | 11.15.10 @ 9:12AM
Actually, Abraham Lincoln was just as radical but in a different way. Ditto FDR.
Converse | 8.12.11 @ 4:07AM
is good