Strapping on Snowshoes

That’s a phrase I never expected to be using as a kid growing up in the Baltimore burbs. Sure we had snow there, sometimes a big amount. But snow activities were limited to shoveling it, making snowmen from it, and sledding down it on the “huge” hill across the street near Sudbrook school. And it was more for the rich or cool kids who would travel all the way to the Poconos in Pennsylvania to ski, and return to wear for weeks their lift tickets dandling from coat zippers, like some kind of badge of honor. Compared to alpine peaks I’d later hike as an adult in Colorado, New Mexico, California, northern Arizone, the Poconos I bet were a pimple of a hill. Snowshoes? That was something for movie characters like Jeremiah Johnson. Or cartoons, where te characters wore things strapped to their feet that looked more like extended tennis rackets. But indeed, it was December 8, 2014 (exact date I know with the help of flickr) when I literally did strap them a pair of brand new red showshoes,…