SEC T I ON T WO
northern Minnesota to tromping up ice-glazed slopes
during Search and Rescue missions in Alaska. With
ease use, whether for work or pleasure, a bit of the lore
inherent in each style starts to permeate up through
my body and into my soul the instant that binding is
cinched around my boot. And while I truly appreciate
the convenience of sturdy aluminum frames, high-tech’
harness/binding systems and hard-steel, bear-claw
crampons embedded into their underside, the worn
wood, varnish-stained, rawhide-webbed “old style” still
kindles my spirit with a brighter, warmer f lame.
Snowshoes have become the lead character in at least a
dozen articles over the years, too. Just as an old wood-
strip Prospector canoe can take the spotlight in an
otherwise ho-hum f ishing experience, so, too, can a pair
of snowshoes capture the spotlight in a story on winter
camping, ice f ishing or just romping through a winter
wonderland.
I’ve written about the history of snowshoes, the
benef its of each different style of wood-frame designs,
the components and materials used to make modern
snowshoes. Each time the theme of the story was
founded in my own experiences and adjusted for the
media in which it was to be presented.
Each round of maintenance or repair task became a
segment of a story line, each process was photographed
to illustrate a point in an article or presentation. Like
so often with our many treasured pieces of equipment,
my snowshoes become a dynamic subject whenever
I refer to them in the context of a piece of topical
writing.
There’s been more than a few occasions where
my initial intent was to plow a trail through a thick
mantle of snow for a dramatic lead-in to a story on
camping, or scratch my way along a drift-blown
frozen shoreline for an anticipated photo opt. Many
times I have become literally frozen in my tracks by
an uncaring - and unimpressed - Mother Nature.
Fortunately having snowshoes strapped to my boots
was a bonus - providing me with an option for a new,
albeit humbling, story line.
In my mind, a high-tech metal-tube framed shoe is
one of the most advanced ways of walking on snow - a
fantastic, utilitarian piece of winter gear. The classic
bent ash frames and rough, rawhide strips that form the
traditional wooden snowshoe, on the other hand (or
foot) carry a much deeper spirit of tradition with each
step - one that seems to always prompt a story - or at
least a good sidebar - in it’s own right.
It speaks about the essence of “outdoor” writing as
well - just like a good angling story can be more about
the f ishing than the catching - sharing the journey
along the way can be so much more enriching than just
describing the destination.
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PHOTO CREDIT: KRISSIE MASON