New #8: Snowshoeing

Everyone in Colorado seems to have some kind of winter sport they can call their own. Everyone but me. I've tried snowboarding, but anytime I advance beyond the bunny hill I end up on my ass, either falling on it in failure or scooting down on it fear. Skiing's probably not much better for me. Too much vertical, not enough horizontal. That's where snowshoeing comes in. It's like hiking, just on the snow. Perfect! And after giving it a try, I'm proud to say I've found my winter pastime.

Ben and I were celebrating our first wedding anniversary in the mountains near Estes Park and decided to take a guided snowshoeing tour offered in the Rocky Mountain National Park. Rentals were only $5, and after the entrance fee to the park, the trek was free. We went prepared with warm clothes and water bottles, and had everything we needed ... except a car that could navigate us through the snowstorm that iced the already windy and dangerous roads. In the spirit of adventure, we kept moving forward, but decided to take a closer trail on our own. The plus: we don't die on the way to finding the other group. But the minus: we might get lost in the woods by ourselves and die anyway.

Taking our chances, we drove to Fern Lake, a trial the ranger recommended. After plopping in the snow to put on our snowshoes, we took our first few steps of the new adventure. Actually, at first, snowshoeing wasn't quite as magical as I'd expected. Contrary to my ideas of the sport, we didn't just float on the snow like a winter-themed Jesus. There was still some sinking involved, especially on the fresh powder. But with the spikes on our shoes and the wider surface area they provided, it was much easier to walk on the snowy path than it would have been with regular boots alone.

The first few steps of snowshoeing.

Along with the snowshoes we were rented poles. At first Ben and I had no idea what to do with them and just kind of flailed them in front with each step. Soon I realized that it helped to keep them toward the back of the stride, to push me rather than pull. This actually was a big help. Ben, on the other hand, decided to keep them in the front for support and reminded me of the alien from Cloverfield, hunched over his two long front legs.


With our two styles set, we were able to enjoy the wonderful white world surrounding us. It was so beautiful! The entire scene was half blanketed in snow, leaving everything from the rocks to pines a two-tone version of themselves. The first leg of the hike was through a walkway of Aspen trees, lining each side of the snowy road. Later, it led us through a narrow path of pines, set between the side of a mountain and a stream babbling under the snow. With powder lightly falling, the whole experience was like living in a freshly shaken snow globe. The kind that people rattle and wish they were inside.

We hiked for three miles one direction. After about an hour, we came to an opening in the trees that led way to a snowy lake. Most of it was iced over, but holes in the surface revealed tiny glimpses of the water flowing underneath. Standing there, it felt like we'd entered a secret, untouched world that was only accessible thanks to our magic snowshoes. It may sound cheesy, but there's actually some truth to it. Hiking that path in boots would have left us knee deep in snow, freezing and definitely discouraged. But with the snowshoes, we could spend those peaceful moments away from the hustle happening back in town. When we paused to enjoy the view, the crunch crunch crunch of snow under our feet gave way to nearly complete silence. The snowflakes lightly falling on our jackets were all that could be heard. You don't realize how rare this kind of stillness is until you experience it. And it's definitely something I'll be looking for more of in the future.

Our view of the lake.

The hike back from the lake was just as captivating as the trek in, although we were getting tired. Soon, we were pooped. Yet as exhausted as we may have been, when the snow began picking up and we couldn't see more than 20 feet in front of us, we sped up the pace back to the car. Toward the end, it did get a little scary. I was still a rookie snowshoer, let alone a survivalist. Luckily, we soon caught glimpse of the car, half buried in snow.

The drive out of the park was a thrill in itself, complete with the car sliding backwards down a mountain. Not once, but twice. Yet coming from the girl who made it home safely, it was all worth the risks. I've discovered snowshoeing, my ticket in another world.

The snowshoeing pair.