Snowshoes … winter walking

A whole lot of years ago, in my younger adult days here in the USA, a friend of mine, who knew I’d been boating most all of my life, well that friend of mine decided I might need another pasttime, or another view, or another experience of life. Snow!

I grew up in the Philippines. What did I know about snow?! But I thought snow might be fun … other people loved snow, why not me? And this friend of mine, Mary, was perfectly comfortable on snow.

Look at the photo below. She’s on cross-country skies, going up-hill, and it looks like she’s out for a simple walk in the park. Nothin’ to it!

Ha!! But the photo below shows my usual posture and usual technical skill. Not so much!

I was in such good physical shape back then (as a diesel truck mechanic) that I never hurt myself when I fell, but I fell a lot. This was not my idea of a good time, even though I didn’t get hurt.

So, my very compassionate snow-loving friend Mary (photo below) said, “how about showshoeing, Ann?”

Traversing the snow anywhere in the woods up in the mountains can be treacherous. One wrong step or slide can dump you down into freezing ice water, even if there’s a snow layer on top that fools you.

So I was scared! But what I learned is that there are miles and miles of snowshoe trails that have solid land underneath. Those snowshoe trails are not ski trails. Cross-country ski trails have obvious narrow grooves in them for the skis to travel in, some of the grooves are groomed purposefully and some of them groomed just from use and wear. But snowshoe trails have none of those lines or ruts in the snow. Snowshoe trails are just flat trails on flat snow with solid ground underneath.

I liked that. And so I bought a set of modern metal snowshoes, and I learned about clothing for cold weather, and I wrangled a color-coordinated outfit that coordinated with my red/yellow ski poles and my red snowshoes. [Yes, that’s me in the photo below, but keep in mind that was a LOT of years ago. 🙂 ]

After many fun snowshoe outings with several friends over the next few years, I eventually got out of the habit of going snowshoeing, and then I soon forgot all about it. But … now, today, after a few decades of not going snowshoeing, I was going through “stuff” here at home, and I came across … my snowshoes! I pulled them out from other “stuff” in the garage and took them into the house for a look and some photos.

Here they are in the storage bag …

And here are the snowshoes, one on top of the other. The grey plastic parts hug the front/sides of your boot/foot and are tightened with the black straps. There’s also a heavy black strap that tightens around the back of your boot’s heel. Each snowshoe is about 22″ long and about 8-1/4″ wide.

I flipped one of the showshoes upside down (below). This is a photo looking at the bottom of one of the snowshoes. Notice the V-cleats in the middle and just a tad toward the right. [The pointy end of the snowshoe is the back/heel end; the round end of the snowshoe is the front/toe end]. Those two cleats (in that V shape) are directly under your heel and keep the showshoe from sliding sideways … keeping your footing on the snow as solid as possible.

And then there’s the single cleat towards the toe-end of the snowshoe. Look at the photo below. That forward cleat sticks down from the snowshoe about 1.5 inches, right below your toe joints, where all of your weight is when walking. No slip-sliding there either!

The only part of the snowshoe and your boot that isn’t held securely in one place is the heel of your boot. The forward part of your boot is strapped into that grey plastic fitting, strapped in with numerous strong black straps, and there’s a black strap that runs around the back of your heel that then holds your boot as far forward as you need it, but your heel is free to lift as you walk. But when your heel is flat on the snowshoe, you don’t want the heel of your boot sliding sideways, so here’s how they deal with that …

Photo below … on the top part of the showshoe, right under your heal is this square-ish metal plate with jagged cleats on all four sides. When you are standing still, or during the part of walking where your heel is on the “ground”, this cleat holds the heal of your boot in place, no sliding off to the side allowed. This cleat is just one of the reasons why you must wear proper boots. This cleat will tear up the heel of boots or shoes that aren’t made for snowshoeing.

So that’s what I know about snowshoeing. I’m no expert! I just had fun for a few years and wanted to show you my snowshoes from back then. As mentioned, that was a few decades ago so there may well be better or more modern snowshoes available these days, different types of snowshoes that might do a better job.

But there’s more to this story, for me.

Yes, there may be newer products out there. But let me show you my mother’s snowshoes from MANY decades ago. I have my mother’s snowshoes in my house … have had them since she died. In fact, just as I’m typing this, I just now realized that these snowshoes of hers (below) were handcrafted in 1924 (I’m typing this in 2023) … they are one year shy of 100 years old. I love that. I’ll tell you the story of how they were made and why and by whom, but first let’s take a look at them. They are great. 🙂

Ok, so, here are my mother’s 1924 hand-crafted snowshoes … 44-1/2″ long and about 14″ wide. They are almost twice the size of my modern snowshoes, but I’m not sure the modern ones are any better.

Notice in the photo above that the outer frame of each snowshoe is ONE piece of wood. Even the forward tip of the snowshoes is simply bent wood. There are no screws, no clamps. The leather strips hold the frame tight around those two lateral pieces of wood. Even the “tail” end is held tight partly because of the leather strips, but also because of how the wood was cut and bent. There is one small wooden dowel that aligns the tail pieces, glued in. Believe me, there are no nails or screws holding those tail end wood pieces together. When I think about that (and that they are 99 years old and still aligned and holding perfectly), I’m amazed by the skill of the wood-worker who crafted these snowshoes, and I wonder if anyone could do that today.

And there are no metal cleats protruding underneath the snowshoe to grab the snow. The photo below is looking sideways at the leather that would hold your boot … no metal cleats underneath, anywhere, they didn’t exist back then.

And here (below) is the leather that holds your boot, then a strap up near your ankle, and then a strap around the heel of your boot. Nothing fancy here, but I can tell you my mother loved these snowshoes and used them constantly on the winter snow … to get to school and back home, to visit friends, to help her parents with chores.

Today, 99 years later, I can’t find any damage to them, any weakness in the wood or the leather. Whereas!, on my modern snowshoes, the plastic grey material that is designed to hold the boot on my modern snowshoes … that grey plastic stuff has failed, pieces are cracking and breaking off. My new modern 25-year-old snowshoes are deteriorating … and yet these almost 100-year-old snowshoes are still perfect.

The photo below is a closeup of the forward lateral piece of wood and the leather that binds all of it together. Notice there are no screws, no pins, no metal hooks. It’s just wood and leather, all handmade. Lots of knots in the leather strips.

Here’s the story about these old snowshoes. My mother was born in 1910. When she was 14 years old (in 1924 … 99 years ago), she decided she wanted a pair of snowshoes. The family … her mom, her dad, and the three kids … Virginia (my mother), Hallie (sister 2 years younger), and Jay (little brother 10 years younger, just 4 years old at this point) lived in the town of Woolley, WA, (now known as Sedro Woolley) close enough to the Cascade Mountains that there was lots of snow there in the winter and mom wanted an easy way to get around town during the winter snow. A neighbor boy, Wim Raby, had been handcrafting snowshoes for lots of the folks in Woolley, and he was the same age as my mom so she knew him well, so she asked him to make her a pair of snowshoes. He agreed, but he needed to be paid for them. Well, this was a REALLY small town back then. My 14-year-old mom had no money. But she realized that her 4-year-old brother (ok, this gets dark now), that her little brother had a pair of winter boots that their parents had set aside for him when he got older. Those boots were were much too big for little brother Jay right now. But, ahem ahem, those boots would fit a 14-year-old boy (Wim Raby) just fine. So, unbeknownst to her parents, my mom offered to trade her little brother’s boots for the snowshoes. Not knowing my mother didn’t have permission to do that, Wim Raby agreed, the deal was done, the snowshoes were made and delivered, and Virginia (my mother) gave her little brother’s boots to Wim in payment, without her parents’ consent.

However, after that winter, spring happened, and Virginia’s parents found that those boots that they’d been saving for little brother Jay had disappeared. Virginia fessed up. There was talk about discussing this with Wim Raby, but it was decided that Wim had made an honest trade, not knowing the boots weren’t Virginia’s. So Virginia’s parents told Virginia that her agreement with Wim would be honored. BUT, Virginia owed her little brother a pair of boots! Both Virginia (my mom) and her sister Hallie (my aunt) have laughed about this for years; I’ve heard the story many times. Virginia ended up doing more housework, more yardwork, more laundry, more cooking, more of everything for a full year to “pay” for those boots. Keep in mind that this family didn’t have a lot of money and that Virginia didn’t actually get paid money for her work, but she sure put in the time and energy.

In the end, my mother was glad that her parents found out and made her work out the “cost” of the boots for her little brother. She knew she needed to do that and that was right to do. But she also admitted that it was worth the deception in order to get those snowshoes. She loved those snowshoes. 🙂 And so do I today.

So that’s my story … and my mother’s story about those wood/leather almost 100-year-old snowshoes. My snowshoeing days were great fun. It’s absolutely glorious out there on a snowshoe trail in the snow, in the sun, with friends along too. Even if you get out there and just shuffle along for a few feet, it really is glorious.