Got my first real miles in with snowshoes this week — around seven miles out to Dewey Point at Yosemite and back to Badger Pass. Took a nice up-and-down route along the Ridge Trail on the way in and came back on the gentle Summit Meadows route. First-glance summation: Snowshoeing is interesting, but it’s not fun.
The unfun parts:
The noise: The crunch-crunching of snowshoeing on hard-packed snow is borderline intolerable compared to the near silence of walking on dirt. Forget about hearing any wildlife — it’ll hear you coming a quarter mile away and flee long before you’re in earshot. Walking on untracked powder is quieter, but it exposes you to …
The risk: The margin for error is way, way tighter in the winter. Much easier to get lost, much harder to get found. Natural-born klutzes like me appreciate all the margin we can get; what we appreciate less is …
The mess: Snowshoe tracks are a blot on the snow-covered landscape. Heavily traveled snow trails are several times more visually disturbing than dirt trails. And most of all, you have to deal with …
The struggle: Trying to walk with those things strapped to your feet is not as ungainly as you might think, but it’s a lot heavier — which means more exertion, more sweat and more time wishing you were done hiking for the day.
The interesting parts:
The mental challenge: People who stay indoors look at a hill and see an obstacle. People who go outdoors see a hill and hear a dare. If you’ve never been snowshoeing, you need to be prepared for the unfun factor, but if you climb hills for no other reason than the satisfaction of getting up there, you’re not apt to be daunted by snowshoeing’s inherent difficulties.
The wildness: You can get way, way out into the woods and never see anybody you don’t want to see. Knowing how to get back — even in a blinding snowstorm — is a daunting prerequisite, but it’s the kind of knowledge you should have all year anyway.
The view: Winter shows you things you’ll never see in the summer: The curve of a snow drift; layers piled atop a rock; footprints of little critters foraging for food. I grew up with enough blizzards, car wrecks and snowshovel-induced back pain to have very little warmth in my heart for snow-flocked landscapes. But I can’t help feeling the magic of being in the wilderness in winter.
So, those are the pluses and minuses. Walking on dirt at your natural pace comes naturally, especially compared to trudging through snow wearing heavy, webbed devices strapped to your feet. The charms and the challenges of the winter environment are pretty-good compensation.
The truth is that snowshoeing on a trail doesn’t have the same appeal as backcountry snowshoeing at all. It can even lose its ability to be interesting as you just crunch along a predestined route. Hit the backcountry and you can choose where to go, avoid crowds, enjoy pure powder snow… It is hard work though! I recommend the Carson Pass area.
I just back from a couple days hike with “Kanjiki” (a type of Japanese traditional snowshoe aparently designed based on a bear paw). It was my first time to tread through so much snow (and this year is the record low for snow fall in this area). It was amazing.
Before we left I looked at the route and thought “its way too short, we can finish it in one day”. Oh how wrong I was – waist deep snow can really slow a group down. The biggest benefit I saw was that unlike hiking on a trail where the fast people have to adjust speed to accomodate the slower people, in the deep snow I could walk in front at full speed giving myself the workout I want, and the slower people can easily keep up because I have cleared a path for them.
Great insight for the snowshoe rookies like me. I’m planning my first trip into the Cascades for next month.
Funny how much I disagree with some of your “unfun” thoughts about snowshoeing.
1. Noise–far, far less than a snow machine and virtually no different than x-country skis. Wildlife never seems to notice me when I’m on showshoes.
2. Risk–no different than winter camping/hiking in general. The margin for this has always been small.
3. Mess–far less than snow machines. No different than x-country skis. Anytime anyone/thing steps in snow, there’s going to be a trail.
4. Struggle–snowshoe with hiking poles, preferably hiking poles with baskets on the end. Makes a world of difference.
Carolyn H.
http://www.roundtoprumings.blogspot.com
I’m sure the unfun factor decreases with experience.
The main thing that unnerves me about snowshoeing is how hard it is to tell where you are, where you’re going, where you’ve been, compared to warm-weather hiking. And if the weather changes, all bets are off navigationwise. Knowing how to read a topo and find a compass bearing are borderline mandatory, whereas I almost never need these skills on non-winter hikes.
I don’t believe that snowshoes would be much fun on a trail or any relatively flat terrain, where skis are faster and better.
Still, snowshoeing in steep, varied terrain is a ton of fun, though poles with snow baskets are essential.
It is hard work, and I’m always amused by the marketing showing extremely fit women running in the things, a state of affairs that could only occur under perfect conditions.
If that’s the perspective brought to the sport, then it’s going to seem slow and clunky, as indeed it is compared to dry land hiking.
Compare it to postholing your way through crusty snow or fighting through waist-deep powder drifts and its attractions become apparent…
Right. The best thing about snowshoes is getting off established trails and heading out in the backcountry.