Frame, filler, binding and cleats, the four major components of a modern snowshoe. (Tim Jones photo)

There are lots of modern snowshoes on the market these days and the variety can be confusing—especially since most look a lot alike. Different shoes with different features are better for different jobs, and picking the right ones for you and your needs can be challenging.

By the way, we are only dealing here with “modern” snowshoes. There are some older designs out there that still work, and if you already own them and like them, go out and have a ball. Wooden snowshoes, for example, are lovely to look at, and still float you on top of the snow. But like wooden boats, they are mostly used by traditionalists who appreciate the aesthetics and craftsmanship inherent in working with wood. This story is for people who are buying their first snowshoes or looking to upgrade older models to something with, perhaps, more performance and practicality. And we are going to focus entirely on snowshoes for the east, where we have more hills than mountains and snow that can range from boilerplate blue ice to deep soft fluff–often on the same trail on the same day.

The way to begin sorting out snowshoes is to imagine what, specifically you are going to do on them and, to some extent, where you are going to do it. As we see it, there are two general categories of snowshoes; there’s no official name for them, but, for lack of better terms, let’s call them racing/running, and backcountry/general use.

Little bitty snowshoes that don’t flop around are a real advantage when running on packed trails, not so good in deep, untracked snow. (Tim Jones photo)

Racing/running snowshoes are designed primarily for aerobic workouts and are almost always better used on packed or heavily crusted snow. Backcountry/general use snowshoes will go anywhere; they are the ATVs of the winter world. Real backcountry shoes are designed primarily for use in untracked snow and a variety of conditions, including wearing a backpack and dealing with steep slopes and sidehills. Not surprisingly, shoes that work well for racing/running tend to be awful for backcountry and vice versa. If you want to go running on snowshoes for exercise in winter, and you also want to put on a pack and go exploring the untracked, you are going to need two pairs of snowshoes.

You’ll very often see a category of snowshoes labeled “recreational.” This is a catch-all title for “value priced” snowshoes that don’t have all the features of top-of-the-line snowshoes. But the truth is there are “recreational” snowshoes that are better for running/racing and others that are better for backcountry/general use. You just need to recognize the differences.

Where things get confusing is that manufacturers often aren’t clear about what a snowshoe is best for. Their job is to get you to buy their snowshoes, so of course they make the ones that are best for everything, right? In our experience, even the salespeople at outdoor shops (and, apparently, some journalists who write about snowshoeing) are sometimes fuzzy about the finer points of snowshoes. So your best strategy is to learn all you can, ask lots of questions, and try as many snowshoes as you can before you buy. The more you know about yourself, what you want to do and what works for you, the more likely you are to find the right snowshoes for you on the first try.

A full rotating toe cord lets the heel of the snowshoe drop freely to shed snow from the deck--very useful in deep snow. (Tim Jones photo)

The first key to categorizing snowshoes is in how the binding (the part that holds your boot) is attached to the deck (the platform that keeps you from sinking into the snow). Here’s how you tell in an instant if a snowshoe is going to be better for running/racing or backcountry/general snowshoeing: simply pick up the snowshoe by the binding. If the tail of the snowshoe immediately drops without resistance (imagine the tail of the shoe staying on the snow as you pick up your foot), that’s a backcountry/general use snowshoe. If the tail of the snowshoe wants to lift along with the binding, that is the hallmark of a snowshoe that’s better for running/racing and use on packed snow. We’ll explain these distinctions more clearly in a moment.

The other key characteristic is the size of the deck. Basically, a larger snowshoe provides more flotation but weighs more. Racing/running snowshoes are usually as small and lightweight as possible. Remember, they are generally used on packed trails, so flotation isn’t as important. While some “general purpose” snowshoes are quite small (for smaller, lighter people who don’t carry a heavy pack and don’t break trail in deep snow), most “backcountry” snowshoes are larger to provide more flotation.

You’ll notice we haven’t talked at all yet about materials. Frankly, we’ve tried great snowshoes with aluminum frames and synthetic decking, and great snowshoes molded of composites or plastic. That’s a matter of preference. Then there are details like ease of binding use, amount and placement of traction, extras like heel lifts. All those are decisions you’ll have to deal with eventually before you  plunk down your hard-earned cash. But the key to finding the right snowshoe is starting in the right general category for what you want to do.

A "tight" or "fixed" toe cord lifts the tail to the shoe when the boot is lifted. This keeps the snowshoe from flopping forward when running but can also flip snow up onto the wearer. Some toe cords are tighter than others; these are about mid-range, (David Shedd photo)

The Toe Cord Conundrum

The point of attachment between the binding and the deck on a snowshoe is technically called the “toe cord. ” The term is a  holdover from the days when snowshoes were made of wood and rawhide and the feet were held to the shoe by, well, cord. As noted above most modern snowshoes for adults come either with “rotating” or “pivoting”  toe cords (also called “axles” by some manufacturers), which allow the snowshoe deck to pivot freely and the tail of the snowshoe to stay on the snow while you lift the toe, or “tight” (sometimes called “fixed”) toe cords which hold the deck more firmly so the tail drops only a little, if at all, when you pick up the shoe.

Tight/fixed toe cords work best on hardpacked snow and are especially popular with snowshoe racers/runners because the tails can’t flop forward as you run (which can easily trip you up). But they have three huge disadvantages for general use in a variety of conditions. First, you must always pick up the weight of the entire snowshoe and any snow that’s on it with each step. That can get tiring quickly, especially in deep, heavy, wet snow. Second, tight toe cords have a nasty tendency to flip snow up with each step onto the user’s legs and back (and even down the back of your neck). Nice for keeping you cool in a race, not so good for staying dry and comfortable on a long wilderness trek in untracked snow. One of the major snowshoe companies calls their tight toecord a “live action hinge.” One of our testers who has tried these particular snowshoes calls them “wicked flippahs.” And third, in deep snow a tight toe cord tends to make it more likely that the tip of the snowshoe will get caught as you step forward (particularly under a crust), which can make YOU the “wicked flippah”!

The tails of these larger snowshoes stay on the snow when you lift the tip to take a step. That lets any snow on them slide off. They work well on crust as shown here but even better in untracked snow. (Tim Jones photo)

By contrast, rotating toe cords allow the tail of the snow to drop so snow slides off with each step, which also causes the tip to easily lift up and over the snow, reducing faceplants. You never pick up the full weight of the shoe–the tail slides along on the snow. This is a real advantage with the larger, longer shoes typically used for backcountry travel in untracked snow. Shoes that pivot freely are a bit harder to maneuver (there’s no “reverse” ) but they are a far better choice for backcountry use and general snowshoeing.

Our Executive Editor  Tim Jones writes a syndicated newspaper  column called Active Outdoors.  A couple of years ago, Tim received an email from a reader complaining that, every time he tried to use his snowshoes, they banged his shins. He asked what he was doing wrong. The answer, of course, was that he was using the wrong snowshoes for what he wanted to do. Further questioning established that this reader was using snowshoes to run for winter exercise. He also happened to be very tall (6-feet 4 inches). Every time he took a long running stride,  the tail of the snowshoe swung forward and the toe of the shoe banged him in the shin. His snowshoes obviously had a full rotating toe cord and were, simply, the wrong snowshoe for what he wanted to do.

On the other end of the scale, Kate Goodin, one of our ace gear testers, and the lead writer for our forthcoming Kids’ Snowshoe Review tells us: “My first pair of snowshoes were awful. I tolerated them for two years because I loved snowshoeing and didn’t know there were options. They had VERY tight toe cords with just enough swing to give a real catapult effect. They flung snow between my legs, up my back, onto the back of my head and, often, down the back of my jacket as it came back to earth from on high. After every snowshoe outing, my thighs were red, raw, and frozen. It was not pleasant in the least. Discovering snowshoes with full rotating toe cords was like discovering you could buy a car with a roof to keep the snow off.”

Needless to say, the EasternSlopes.com editorial staff  strongly recommends a freely pivoting, “rotating” toe cord for the highly variable snow conditions we encounter in the east. It’s simply a better all-purpose design. If you are going to run a lot on your snowshoes, stick mainly to packed trails and don’t mind getting pelted with snow with each step, choose “tight” toe cords. And if you want to do a lot running and occasional backcountry use, well, not all “tight” toe cords are created equal. Some are tighter than others, flip more snow than others.

The one exception to that rule is if you do most of your hiking in thick softwoods, where you’re likely to have to clamber over a lot of  blowdowns.  This is the one time that a tighter toe cord can be a help; it makes it easier to get the snowshoe over a downed tree, and the snow is often not as deep in those areas.  Think carefully before you decide that you fit this category, though; if you hike a ways through fields or open hardwoods to get to those areas, you’ll be so tired before you get to the woods that you won’t be able to get over the downed trees anyway!

In his photo, you can actually see the snow sliding off the deck of this snowshoe as the boot is lifted and the tail stays on the snow. That's one huge advantage of a full rotating toe cord.(Tim Jones photo)

Size Matters

Every snowshoe manufacturer and even some retailers offer charts to help you pick the right size snowshoe for you.  They are always based on weight, which is absolutely correct. The more you weigh, the more flotation you need. And bigger snowshoes mean more surface area and more flotation.

For running on packed trails, the rule of thumb is simple: choose the smallest shoe you can possibly get away with. Smaller shoes are lighter and less cumbersome, will let you travel faster and farther in ideal conditions. General use is another matter entirely.

In our not-so-humble opinion, most size charts for picking snowshoes err on the small side for general use. Yes, smaller snowshoes offer a weight advantage, and a snowshoe that’s too big for the user can make for an awkward stride and uncomfortable walking. But it appears to us that most snowshoe size charts are generally biased toward packed trails. That is, after all, where most folks apparently go snowshoeing.

However, untracked snow and a backpack full of winter gear demand larger snowshoes. We strongly  feel that, no matter how small you are, if you ever intend to step into untracked snow, especially wearing a backpack, you shouldn’t even consider a 21-inch shoe (often sold as “women’s” models).  Most women will do better with a 25-inch shoe for all around use, most men with a 30-inch. If you are a larger person or carrying a heavy pack regularly, or hike in an area that often has deep, light snow, you may need to consider larger still.

In other words, we generally recommend putting yourself on the low to middle end of the size chart. If you are shading toward the upper end of the recommended weight, go a size larger. That will give you the flexibility to carry a pack and deal with deep, untracked snow. Modern snowshoes aren’t all that heavy, so the weight penalty for going up a size isn’t all that bad, anyway.

Snowshoes come in all sizes, shapes and colors, finding the right ones for you takes some thought--but the results are all fun. (Tim Jones photo)

One thing to watch out for when upsizing snowshoes is width. Too wide a shoe can make walking with a natural gait difficult (like  the traditional “bearpaws”, which had you walking like a cowboy after a long day on a barrel-shaped horse). Some snowshoes are shaped to “nest” as one is moved forward of the other. We strongly recommend trying these on snow before you buy to make sure the shape of the shoe works with your natural stride.

Other Considerations

Beyond toe cords and overall size, there are some other considerations that make a specific pair of snowshoes right—or wrong—for you.

One of the biggest factors we encounter when testing a variety of snowshoes is ease of use. You’d be amazed at the differences that you might not notice without comparing models side-by-side. Snowshoe bindings should be easy to get into and out of even with frigid fingers inside bulky gloves. That said, most snowshoe bindings have a bit of a learning curve and some very good ones need adjustment prior to being taken out into the snow. Our advice when picking snowshoes is to wear your biggest, most cumbersome gloves and see if you can work the binding with them. If you can’t quickly learn to do that in a warm shop or your own living room, you are probably going to have trouble out in the snow when it’s below zero and the wind is howling.

Still on the subject of bindings, some are made to hold your boot more firmly than others. The less your foot moves side to side in a binding, the more control you are going to have on sidehills, which are often the toughest challenge for snowshoes. That’s why real backcountry snowshoes will frequently have beefier (and sometimes heavier) bindings than general purpose or recreational shoes. This is something to consider if you intend to tackle steeper hills and tougher trails.

All modern snowshoes come with traction crampons built in, but some are much more aggressive than others. On the MSR Lightning Ascent snowshoes, for example, essentially the whole frame provides traction. The Tubbs Couloir snowshoes we tested two years ago (similar to the new Mountaineer) have a total of 16 1-1/2-inch spikes under the toe and heel of the boot. Other models have much less traction. Obviously traction counts on steep, sidehilled or icy terrain. Our general advice if you are ever going to leave behind flat terrain is to err on the side of having too much traction rather than too little.

Renting snowshoes at a Nordic Center (here at the Trapp Family Lodge in Vermont) is a wonderful way to try before you buy. Just be sure to try them off the packed trail if that's what you intend to do on your own. (Warner Shedd photo)

Finally, some snowshoes, particularly backcountry models, have heel lifts which flip up to provide support for your heel as you are climbing steep terrain. This not only prevents fatigued calves but also helps to keep crampons engaged in the snow to prevent slipping. It’s a nice feature if you are going to climb steep slopes (the longer and steeper the slope, the more you need it). But if you stick mainly to flat or gently rolling terrain, you will probably never use it. Extras add to the cost and weight of a snowshoe; think about what you intend to do, and you’ll have a better idea of whether they’re worth it for you.

Try Before You Buy

Our final recommendation is to try snowshoes on snow before your buy them. Lots of retail stores, Nordic ski resorts, lodges and recreation programs rent snowshoes. Winter Trails Day in early January offers a host of free snowshoe events. Charity events like the Tubbs Romp To Stomp Out Breast Cancer have snowshoes galore to try. And you can always borrow from friends . . .unless, of course, they want to be out playing in the snow, too!

In the Gaspesie, when they say "snow", think "winter wonderland"...we aren't talking normal Eastern snow here! We traveled up to find out if there was something beyond snowmobiling there...and found more than we bargained for.(David Shedd photo)

Stretching northeast from the northern tip of Maine, along the south shore of  the St. Lawrence River, the Gaspésie (or Gaspé Peninsula, as it is often called) is Quebec’s summer playground. With over 500 miles of coastline, it’s a natural for Québécois trying to escape the heat. Beyond that, however, the Gaspésie is home to some of the world’s most famous salmon rivers, drawing fanatic anglers from around the world. The International Appalachian Trail brings hikers through the interior to Cap Gaspé, the end of the mainland trail. All in all, it has a thriving, busy, bustling summer economy for such a remote area.

But winter…well, that’s a different story. Snowmobilers are the predominant tourists, drawn by over 1000 miles of maintained trails and the regular lake-effect snow caused by having water on three sides of the peninsula. Doesn’t that seem like a total waste of snow to you, particularly in an area filled with mountains? It certainly did to us. Even though there are no “major” ski mountains on the Gaspesie, there must be something for us non-motorized winter enthusiasts, right? Time for a road trip…and what better time to do it than February, when the snow is deep and the days are getting longer, which means more skiing time!

If you are heading into the Gaspé by all means plan a stop at Quebec City. It’s  hard to justify going all the way up there without enjoying all that marvelous city has to offer. Lodging can be had at relatively modest cost outside the city center, but if you’re going to splurge there are a couple of great options, including the historic Château Frontenac. Owned by the Fairmont hotel chain, it’s been upgraded but not stripped of charm; how many hotels do you know of that have a four-legged official greeter? Santol is a trained guide dog, but he prefers to socialize with as many people as possible…and he made us feel right at home. On the way back from the Gaspesie, we stayed at the Hotel Château Laurier; in many ways, it’s the opposite of the Frontenac. Yes, it’s in Old Quebec, but…well, do wine vending machines in the hallways sound traditional? Another non-traditional twist is that the hotel doesn’t have a dining room; rather, they partner with other restaurants in the city to create packages that appeal to different gastronomic tastes.

Had we known what was awaiting us at the Gite du Mont Albert, we'd have been a bit less concerned about rain forcing us inside! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

We awoke our first morning in Quebec to a sound we really didn’t want to hear…rain dripping off the roof of the Frontenac.  Fabulous…here we are in Quebec in February to head into the snowy backcountry, and it’s raining??? With our usual optimism only slightly dampened, we  headed for the town of Ste. Anne des Monts. We’d planned the first day to be relaxed, with sightseeing along the way; it’s roughly a 6-hour drive up there (see why we wanted to stop in Quebec City the night before?) along the St. Lawrence River, so there should be plenty to see, right?  Well…not so much in a cold, foggy rain, when we were wondering if there would be snow at the destination OR if the rain would turn into ice and leave us stranded. The St. Lawrence was barely visible through the fog, but one feature of the trip stood out…windmills! Canada is investing heavily in a renewable energy future, and we saw hundreds of the massive beasts, turning slowly and gracefully in the distance. It’s magnificent, and a reminder of the focus on reduced pollution in the area (yes, we’re comparing it to the slow progress in the U.S.).

By Ste. Anne, we’d decided to relax and make an early start into the mountains the next day. Luckily, it’s hard to go through any town in Quebec of any size without finding a nice place to stay and some good food. The former was easily met by La Seigneurie des Monts, a historic inn close enough to the St. Lawrence that Tom Brady could chuck a football into the water from their porch. Unfortunately, their dining room wasn’t open, but the seemingly bizarrely named Pub Chez Bass wasn’t far away. On a cold, foggy night, pub food seemed perfect, and the warm atmosphere relaxed us…and as we ate, the rain turned to snow.

They do call is SNOWshoeing; in the Gaspesie, they aren't fooling around when it comes to the white stuff! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

After an excellent breakfast at La Seigneurie, we were on our way to the Gîte du Mont-Albert…and more snow! We’d somehow found our way into an oddball weather system where the warm rain near Quebec City had broken the ice on the St. Lawrence, and a cold north wind was lifting the moisture off the river and depositing it on our heads. Over the next 5 days, we literally had a only few hours when it wasn’t snowing. Unfortunately, the stunning views the area is known for were mostly hidden; but the tradeoff was nearly constant fresh tracks. Life is so hard…

For our first day at the Gîte, we decided to go snowshoeing and shake the travel kinks out of our legs before beating them up on the boards. The Gîte provided us with a brown bag lunch and sent us out with a guide to the Abri de la Serpentine, a shelter tucked up among the mountains. It’s a 12.6 kilometer, roughly 5 hour trip; the first section is a LONG uphill climb to the cabin, where you can rest, warm up, eat lunch, and then head back toward the Gîte around Lac du Diable. Even though it was cold and snowing, it didn’t take us long to strip down to our baselayers as we climbed…and climbed…some steeps, but mostly just a nice, steady, manageable uphill. The views were almost surreal; the sun clearly wanted to come out, and there didn’t LOOK to be much in the way of clouds above, but the snow just kept coming and coming. We were certainly ready for our break when we reached the cabin, and no food was left behind, either! The trip down was…well, just plain silly fun. Thigh deep powder on snowshoes means hard work while climbing, but downhills are pretty much a standing glissade; well, at least until I caught a toe of my snowshoe on a branch and executed a perfect header, to the great amusement of my companions, who unanimously scored it a 10.

Back at the Gîte, the bar was about as nice a place to relax before dinner as any we’ve ever seen. The combination of soaring ceilings and traditional wood construction was both modern and homey at the same time…and a friendly bartender and a nice glass of wine prepared us for the kind of comfort food you’d expect at a mountain lodge. Okay, not really…this is Quebec. The food was almost shockingly gourmet; it almost felt as if we’d been transported back to Quebec City. Roughing it, this isn’t! After dinner, back to the room; no late night for us, as we knew what was coming the following day…

If you want true backcountry skiing, Ski Chic-Chocs will get you there! (David Shedd photo)

And in the morning, I was off to take advantage of one of only two full-on cat skiing operations in the Northeast (the other being in Newfoundland, even farther into the middle of nowhere). Ski Chic-Chocs exists to make it easier for backcountry skiers to enjoy the ridiculous amounts of powder the Gaspe receives, providing guides (and rental equipment) as well as somewhat-warmer-than-outside cabins in their Catski to drag us back up the hill. It’s not Western cat skiing; the mountains aren’t that big. But, they’re plenty big and plenty wild, particularly in the disorienting conditions of constant snowfall. Up top, in the howling wind, the surfaces were scratchy…but as we skied down, the snow underfoot got deeper and deeper. In the trees, protected from the wind, it approached waist deep in places.

Everest? No, but for all we could tell, it could have been...by the time we reached the top, our earlier tracks were nearly filled in! (David Shedd photo)

Using AT (alpine touring) gear, we alternated  runs to the bottom where the ‘cat met us and took us back up with partial runs where we put skins on and glided back up to cover more of a particularly lovely glade area. If you haven’t tried AT, you’re missing a treat. Downhill, you have the control of traditional downhill skis/boots/bindings. Uphill, you have the ability to ski the kind of areas that most of us associate with Telemark. Remarkably, climbing back uphill on these boards is in many ways easier than snowshoeing;  length and width gives floatation to stay on top of the snow, the skins give great grip, and when you hit an area that’s flat or slightly downhill for a bit, they glide in perfect control, faster than any snowshoes. With ski manufacturers finally figuring out the wide shaped ski equation, AT gear is not  an unreasonable option for a skier who mostly uses lift-serviced slopes day in/day out. You then have the option to take advantage of an operation like this, or getting farther off into the open glade areas at ski resorts, where there’s no easy return to the lift without climbing. Either way, for a skier who wants something close to lift-serviced, but relishes a different challenge and gorgeous powder, this is a truly unique opportunity!

Even with the near constant snow, the views were still breathtaking; no wonder Susan is smiling! (David Shedd photo)

Susan, being relatively new to alpine skiing, wisely decided to pass on this adventure, and instead went out snowshoeing with a group in the same area we were skiing (which led to a whole bunch of shouting and echoing when we saw each other on nearby peaks!).  She, too, had a ball; by taking advantage of Ski Chic-Choc’s cats, her group was able to start much higher and cover much more terrain than if they’d had to climb from the lodge.  Even though the views were limited by the constant snow, winds would suddenly open a view to a mountain, or into a valley, giving them a constant sense of anticipation of what might happen next.  Having a guide from Ski Chic-Chocs meant freedom to focus on what was around them without worrying about where they were going, a very agreeable luxury!

By the end of the day, we were ready for another night of relaxation at the Gîte, more great food and companionship, and an early bedtime, knowing that we had an early morning ahead of us…we were headed DEEPER into the wilds of the Gaspésie!

Snow, mountains...and one lone building, in the middle of nowhere. That's the Auberge de Montagne des Chic Chocs! (David Shedd photo)

There’s a politically incorrect phrase heard often south of the Canadian border: “those crazy Frenchmen.” But, without in any way making that a negative, they HAD to be wonderfully, magnificently crazy to build the Auberge de Montagne des Chic-Chocs. Nobody remotely sane would build a four-star hotel at the TOP of a mountain that you can’t reach in the winter. Okay, maybe not at the top of the mountain, exactly…there ARE higher peaks in the area. But, the “base lodge” is at over 2000 feet…and you ski DOWN from there. Did I say you can’t reach it in the winter?  Okay, I lied. You can.  But only by THEIR custom, deluxe, converted van snowcats. Very comfy…which is a bloody good thing, since it’s 40 kilometers to the lodge from the last place you can take something with wheels. On, of course, a serpentine road that hugs the mountainside, crosses stunning rivers flowing through mountain valleys…you get the picture. The ride itself is a treat, making you wonder…can the lodge really live up to the buildup? Worry not…it’s as stunning as the scenery, and as unexpected.

Karhu was ahead of their time with the Meta Ski; they're fun, rare, and the Auberge has a fleet of them for your enjoyment! (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

I wish we could say that we paid full attention to the introduction that Guy Laroche, the manager of the Auberge, gave us when we arrived. He did his best, letting us know that surprising variety of amenities offered (being hedonists at heart, we DID pay attention to where the outdoor hot tub was), the great array of equipment for our use. With great patience, he even got us to pay enough attention to know where our room was and be able to head there and store our luggage. But…out the windows, there was SNOW. Not snow, SNOW. We did pay attention to the need for avalanche beacons, and other safety instructions, but details about the lodge itself? Nah. That could wait until after dark.

And, soon after, we were out with a guide and some Karhu Meta Skis. These are real oddballs that, unfortunately, never captured the public’s imagination, possibly because no one really understood them. People thought they were backcountry skis, and by that measure, they’re terrible (although using them with Telemark or AT boots, as opposed to your basic winter boot, dramatically improves their downhill skiing performance). If you think of them as really fast snowshoes, however, they’re a blast! We wound around in the most amazing winter wonderland, up and down; since the skins are built into the ski, there were no delays, no waiting while we put on skins to climb, or took them off to go downhill. The Meta Skis really shine on mixed terrain with rolling hills, and we found plenty of them. As the shadows lengthened, we headed back for the lodge very, very reluctantly.

Huge, multipurpose, and incredibly welcoming, the great room at Auberge du Montagne des Chic Chocs is the center of all eating activitities (Susan Marean Shedd photo)

That really wasn’t fair; the lodge deserves to be fully appreciated.  It would be impressive if it were in a “normal” location; here, where a tent is near luxury, it’s fabulous. In particular, the great room, which really is a GREAT room, is noteworthy. It’s a massive open space, punctuated by a 4-sided glass fireplace. Unlike the Gîte, which has separate rooms for bar and dining, this is the “everything” space where you eat, drink, hang out, talk, read, you name it. We found ourselves sort of rotating from space to space over an evening…a warm cup from the superb coffee/espresso/cappucino machine when we came in from an outdoors session, to the bar after a hot tub or nap, then to the long tables for dinner, and over to the cubbies near the windows to talk and share some port after dinner was over. It’s a warm, relaxing space, in keeping with the “casual elegance” theme.

Roughing it? Not likely...this IS Quebec, after all! (David Shedd photo)

Dining follows that same theme; breakfast and lunch are buffet, and dinner is served family style, with large platters of fabulous food (venison with roasted carrots and asparagus, for instance) being passed around. It makes sense, since there isn’t a pool of neighborhood talent to call on for wait staff; yes, your server WAS your backcountry guide a few hours before. Guy even doubles as wine steward, and will happily recommend a perfect match for your dinner from his latest selection of “finds.” Don’t worry about going hungry…there’s PLENTY of food (and there’s always something hanging around to eat when you come in from a long ski and are hungry enough to eat your own arm). Basically, this is “roughing it” only if you’re a Ritz Carlton Platinum Elite member.

But even the Ritz can’t give you the profound silence that comes with being this far from anywhere. About the only thing that can disturb your night’s sleep is wind, and we didn’t have enough to notice. Talk about waking refreshed…and excited! Backcountry skiing was on the agenda, and a look out the window showed us that our tracks from yesterday had utterly disappeared. I’m afraid we didn’t give breakfast the attention it deserved; we were too wound up and wanted to be sure we were totally prepared when our groups were ready to go. The guides broke us up into two groups; Susan went out to explore some gentler glades with several other people who didn’t have much backcountry experience. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went out with the REAL lunatics. The group included Steve Gorman, a longtime backcountry telemark fanatic, Rob Story, a Telluride native and an writer for “Powder Magazine” and others, and our host Guy, who lives/works there for the simple reason that he can ski out his back door all the time. And, we literally went out the back door, skiing directly from the parking lot down through thigh-deep powder to Chute Hélène, a waterfall famous in that area. I wasn’t anywhere near  in the league of the other skiers in the group, but they were kind enough to stop halfway down to let me catch up. On the first run, I pulled up next to Rob and said “Whaddya think?”  He said only one word…”Epic!” There you have it; a Western native skier, describing Eastern natural powder as “epic.” I looked at the sky…no signs of gathering clouds or massive lightning bolts. Still, I was happy when Rob skied away from me; who knew when the sky was going to fall???

Even if the skiing hadn't been fantastic, it would have been worth the trip just to see Chute Helene, magnificent in its frozen state (David Shedd photo)

It wasn’t just the skiing that was epic, though. When we reached the bottom and put on our skins, it was a short glide to Chute Hélène…and we were more than rewarded for the effort. Stunning even in its frozen state, Hélène seemingly falls directly from the sky down a cliff. A stop on the International Appalachian Trail, it’s hard to imagine how extraordinary it must be in late spring, with massive amounts of snowmelt churning down. Clearly, we need to go back when the snow is gone!

But for now…back up the mountain for another run. One of the great advantages of skiing AT in a group, besides the shared fun and increased safety, is taking turns breaking trail on the climb back up. Trust me, it’s a real workout whether you’re on the front or the back of the line; strip down to light layers, or you’ll sweat until you regret it! It makes for great skiing, though; you’re warm, your legs are loose and energized when you reach the top, so you have great flow on the way down again. Want to know how much fun the skiing really was? Take a look at this video of us having a ball!

In the other group, Susan was having as much fun as we were. After learning mostly on hard, scratchy resort snow, playing in the powder came naturally to her. By the end of her session, she was wishing she’d gotten to come out and play with us. She’d gotten great tips from her guide, and had followed the cardinal rule of glades: Look at the SNOW, not the trees! One of the most important things she’d found out, in fact, is that there’s a lot more snow than you’d expect.  Looking down at a backcountry glade, it can appear utterly impenetrable; but, when you ski down to it, you suddenly find that there’s a lot more space between the trees than it looks from above.  What had seemed scary to her as she headed out had become FUN!  When we met up for lunch, she was glowing and laughing. Truly, can you ask more from a morning of skiing than that?

Views that would make Ansel Adams weep are part of the charm of the Chic-Chocs (David Shedd photo)

After lunch, Steve and Rob and some of the other hard-core types headed back onto the slopes, but we wanted to explore, so we grabbed snowshoes and headed out. The Auberge has well-marked trails to follow; even though snow had filled in any signs of them, the tree markings made it easy. We explores a quick hour or two loop from the lodge called the Bucher; after wandering through moose heaven for a while, you come out onto an edge with unbelievable views of Mont Nicol-Albert, among others. The strange constant snow we’d been having was finally starting to calm itself down, and with the sun forcing its way through the clouds, the effects were like something out of an Ansel Adams print. We’ve probably seen views AS beautiful, but I doubt we’ve ever seen anything MORE beautiful.

Back at the lodge, we were in time to catch a quick nap, a soak in the outdoor hot tub, and then to the great room for a drink before dinner. The mood  was as light and happy as any we’ve ever seen; it had been a perfect day, with enough effort to have earned our magnificent meal, stunning scenery, and a sense that we’d participated in something truly unusual and very special. Dinner flowed into some vintage port as we all sat and chatted in the lounge area; we knew we had to leave in the morning, and didn’t want to let it end.

Riding out in the snowcat produced constantly changing, stunning views (David Shedd photo)

Alas, morning brought packing up and heading out, yet even that was a true joy. The sun had finally broken through, giving us a brilliant morning to take a snowcat ride out to the “real world”. The moose were cooperative, and we saw several groups of them when we could tear our eyes away from the mountains.  Too soon, we reached the cars, and headed out on the long trip back to Quebec City. It was a strange transition…seeing houses, cars, normal signs of civilized life was disorienting after spending time in such splendid isolation. In some ways, the long drive was a boon, as it gave us all time to gently come back to what we tend to think of as “normal” life.

And back to our regular lives we went…subtly changed. I started looking for an AT ski setup, Susan asked for Meta skis for Christmas (sadly, an unfulfilled wish, as they’re no longer made and are very hard to find), and we know we’ll be heeding the call of the Gaspésie and heading up again, both in summer and winter. Be forewarned ..if you take a trip up, you may find it addicting. Like us, you may realize that you’re randomly looking at weather forecasts for Cap Chat, wondering how much snow THEY’RE getting!

6 pieces, 10 ounces, amazingly flexible protection system! (David Shedd photo)

We’re a big fan of 3-piece glove/mitt systems for most outdoor pursuits.  Having an overmitt that provides maximum protection, yet comes off easily to give us greater dexterity, is a major help when setting up a winter camp, or when trying to take photos in the field. Having a thin liner glove as the third piece of the system allows for better moisture control and wicking, and lets us keep our hands away from direct contact with metal, snow, whatever, when we need even better tactile feel than the second layer gives us.  Plus, playing around with the combination allows us to fine tune for different temperatures.

However, there are usually a few different prices to pay. One, literally, is price; 3-piece systems tend to be relatively expensive, for obvious reasons.  Another is loss of dexterity when the whole mess is put together. Put several gloves inside each other, and you can usually expect it’ll get bulky and hard to grab with, compared with a single warm mitten. And, finally, a lot of glove systems are really hard to get on/off when you’re sweating and they’re moist inside.

Sometimes, though, things all come together as if the cosmos intended it all along.  And, combining Outdoor Research’s “Latitude” 2-piece combo with their PL100 liner glove feels like one of those cosmic coincidences. First things first…it’s hard to know that the Latitude is a 2-piece, because OR simply markets it as an “ultralight shell.” You have to read down farther to find out that it’s a shell AND a glove. Dumb marketing for a great product.  When OR calls the shell an ultralight, though, they aren’t kidding; it feels about as thick as a piece of wax paper. But don’t kid yourself; it’s not weak or flimsy. The material is tough, the palm is grippy, and it’s full featured: Strap across the back of the wrist to tighten it on, that you can operate with a mitten on the other hand?  Check. An “idiot cord” to keep the mittens attached to you when you take them off so you don’t drop them off the ski lift? Check (For the record, I don’t think I’m an idiot, but I use them all the time; too easy to have a wind take them miles away when you  put them down, since they’re so light!). OR’s excellent Duo-Cord gauntlet closure, that allows you to pull one tab to tighten them, one to loosen? Check. Pre-curved, so the palm doesn’t bunch up when you grab something? Check.

The PL100 liner (r) slides easily in and out of the Latitude liner glove, allowing for great dexterity and surprising warmth (David Shedd photo)

So, the mitten has the right stuff…how about the glove?  Well, let’s just say that they’re my current go-to glove for driving, working in the garage, etc.  True to OR’s obsessive-compulsive nature, they’re a surprisingly elaborate affair, with an inner fleece layer and an outer shell that’s grippy on the palm and fingers, slippery on the back.  Warmth is moderate; they’re 100 weight fleece inside the thin shell.  But, they’re surprisingly waterproof, making it possible to clean snow off the car with them and stay dry, and that makes them feel warmer than a glove that lets moisture in. And grip they have, in spades, along with seams that are nearly invisible to the fingers, giving great feel. They’re a great work glove, period. After a season of abuse, they’re showing some small signs of wear here and there, but still in great shape overall. That’s one of Outdoor Research’s claims to fame; if you need to trust something when you’re climbing a 20,000 footer, you know that their construction is impeccable.

Snowing, windy, and 0F in Quebec's Chic-Chocs mountains, but the Latitude/PL100 combination kept me plenty warm (Susan Marean photo)

So far, so good; great features, great feel, great fit. But, only moderate warmth. At 20 degrees F, that’s fine, but as the temps crawl down closer to zero, they just aren’t warm enough.  That’s where the PL100 liner comes in.  Made of OR’s 100 weight “Radiant Fleece”, they’re a smooth, silky-feeling, close fitting liner. A little thicker than the lightest liner gloves, they’re a LOT warmer, and surprisingly wind resistant. And, the fabric breathes well, making them easy to get on and off, and keeping them warm when you’re working hard; dry hands are warm(er) hands.

One characteristic of good liner gloves is that they’re slippery, helping them to conform to the gloves they’re sliding into; however, that creates its own problem. When you need maximum dexterity and strip down to the liner, you suddenly don’t have any significant grip; things slide out of your fingers.  Most liners offer an “all or nothing” approach; no grip at all, or the entire finger/palm area has added grip, effectively turning it from a liner glove to a standalone, since it won’t fit easily into another glove. OR’s solution is simple and surprisingly functional…put a bit of silicone on the first joint area of the thumb and forefinger.  It’s a smart compromise; the liner still slides easily in and out of the Latitudes, but if you have to pick a quarter off the ground, you can (hey, I’m of Scottish descent; picking up loose change is a religion!).

The added warmth of the PL100 dramatically increases the utility of the Latitude combination; while backcountry skiing on the Gaspe peninsula at a windy 0 degrees F., my hands remained comfortable. Even with multiple stops to take off the overmitt to shoot photos and video, my hands never came close to “real pain” ; a few arm windmills, and they were warm again.  For most of the photo shooting, I was able to leave both pairs of gloves on, yet still operate the small controls on my Olympus camera; that was both a surprise and a huge help to keep me warm (and waste less time…no fumbling to keep the gloves where they belonged while I got my shots, then get gloves on, mittens on…you get the picture).

Rolled up, the Latitude overmitts take up remarkably little space, giving an added margin of safety tucked into your emergency kit (David Shedd photo)

Flaws?  Really, only a couple. No, they’re not an expedition mitt; if you’re going to be fooling around at -35, you’re likely smart enough to know that you need a LOT more insulation than these offer. However, they can easily be adapted to handle colder weather.  Pick up a relatively inexpensive, oversized mitt (oversized, as in if you wear a large, buy an XL) with decent insulation (even cheapies use Thinsulate these days). Take off the thin OR overmitt, stick on the thick one…voila!  Not waterproof, but generally if it’s that cold you’re less worried about waterproof; we’re talking about staying warm as you sit in camp, or have lunch on a long, cold snowshoeing trek.  That’s a cheap solution that gives you almost infinite combinations to meet most conditions, and doesn’t add tons of weight.  Or, as a ski patrolman at Cranmore said to us as we rode up a lift together, “I have those same mitts, and I got some thick fleece mittens to put inside; I’ve never been cold in them yet!”  Options abound…use your imagination to get the combination that’s just right for you.

The only other flaw, as mentioned earlier, is the price of the system. The two-piece Latitude system rings up at $120; the PL100 adds another $26. Include tax or shipping, you’re looking at $150, a not-inconsiderable chunk of change. But, when you’re out snowshoeing at 10 degrees and slip in a creek crossing, would you rather have saved $50 on a lesser system, or know that the hand you just plunged into 34 degree water up to the wrist isn’t going to get soaked, then turn to a block of ice? There are areas that we’re more likely to cut corners, as they won’t compromise our safety (a good example is gaiters; OR’s are the industry standard, but if you need to save money somewhere, LL Bean’s “Winter Walkers” do the trick admirably, allowing you to better allocate your funds elsewhere).

Now, here’s a tip; we’ve just gotten word that OR is discontinuing this model, and replacing it next winter with a nod to their heritage, the Mt. Baker Modular (the original Mt. Baker was a landmark product for OR “in the day”).  The new setup will have more insulation in the liner glove, but will also cost about $20 more. I expect we’ll love those, but in the meantime, there may be retailers wanting to move these out, so keep your eyes open for bargains!  With luck, you could save enough to cover the cost of insulated overshells and have the best of ALL worlds.

Let's go play! (Raelyn Viti photo)

Actually, winter is enticing not only for kids. My students and colleagues at New England College in Henniker, New Hampshire (where I run the outdoors program) have been checking snowshoes out of the equipment closet every day this winter.

Recently, two of my students and I had the joy of taking a group of children to the woods to play on snowshoes. It was a cold day, but the sun was shining. Presidents’ Week vacation was coming to an end, and local daycares and vacation camps had done a great job of entertaining children, but these kids were more than ready for an opportunity to just get outdoors and “play.”

As we eagerly waited for the bus full of children to arrive, we aligned 18 pairs of snowshoes and stood in the sun. We heard the rumble of the bus as it pulled up. The doors opened and within seconds the three of us were bombarded with yells from energetic little puffballs. I couldn’t even make out their faces beneath the hats and hoods.

Practicing their new moves. (Raelyn Viti photo)

The excitement level was high, and the  smiles never left our faces, let alone theirs. Once the snowshoes were on we all tromped through the snow and into the woods.

Clearly, just hiking was not going to be enough to stave off boredom and expend the energy these little guys needed to burn to keep warm.

With a group of 18 kids, games were in order. We played a series of non-competitive games usually played in gyms or open fields. As an outdoor educator, I have played team games, tag games, and scavenger hunts with children on snowshoes. In fact, almost any game can be played on snowshoes. Playing them on snowshoes adds an element of silliness, especially when the snowshoes are sized for adults!

Can't Catch Me! (Raelyn Viti photo)

For a full hour and a half our “students” were laughing, falling, and playing in the snow on snowshoes. One of the games we played involves pretending to be birds. The object is to protect nests, gather food for survival, and keep the blue jays away. As the children tromped through the snow to find places to hide their nests, you could almost hear their smiles. A look in the distance showed students exploring the woods as they contemplated the strategy of their nest hiding.

The Blue Jays (two children deemed “it”) began counting loudly to 25 with their eyes closed and couldn’t stop laughing. The shout of “TWENTY-FIVE!” brought 16 juncos (the rest of the children) running to the feeders (adults holding bags of beans) to get food to bring back to their hidden nests.

Hiding and finding "nests." (Raelyn Viti photo)

When it came time to end our day on snowshoes, all we heard were grumbles and moans. The children were reluctant to leave and go back inside on a cold day. They wanted to play more games and explore the woods. As we walked down the trail to where the bus was parked they talked of where to hide nests next time, if they could jump off the top of the hill, challenges of who could walk backwards, and some asking their parents for their own pair of snowshoes.

Playing with children outside, even in the cold,  can bring out the inner-child in all of us. Don’t let winter keep you trapped indoors. Get outside! Dress properly with warm layers and no cotton. Keep the activity level high, and the fun level up in the clouds. Snacks and water are also key components to having fun.

Jays and Juncos

Even from a distance you can see the fun! (Raelyn Viti photo)

The game our group played is called “Jays and Juncos,” and it keeps kids moving, thinking and exploring.

Here are the rules:

Everyone gets a nest (bowls or cups work well.)

The object is to get as much food as possible to feed their babies.  At the end of the game ( a predetermined time) each 4 beans equals 1 baby bird.

One or more players are designated Blue Jays (1 Jay  for every 8 Juncos). They steal seeds from the nests

The Blue Jay counts to “25″ while the Juncos hide their nests.

At 25 ,the Juncos run to the feeder  (a person holding a bag of beans.)

The Juncos each receive 5 beans (food) to bring back to their nest.

The Blue Jays try to find nest and steal the food, A Jay can only take 3 beans at a time and may not return to the same nest consecutively.

The Juncos run to and from their nest collecting food from the feeder.

The children can use different strategies to hide their nest and get as much food as possible. For example, hiding a nest farther away is safe from Blue Jays, but makes it hard to get food; hiding a nest closer may allow a Blue Jay to find the nest more easily, but also allows the Junco to continually retrieve more beans from the feeder.

When the game ends, some children may need help with math to figure out how many babies they have.

Everyone wins!

I really love this job because I am rarely told “No.” Within a few days I was signed up for the race and had wrangled my good friend, Jim, into being my partner. (It didn’t take a lot of work. He can be as foolish and impulsive as me at times.) We were both excited. As outdoor enthusiasts and avid runner/hikers we felt we had the stamina to complete the race. The question was: Did we have the skills to actually compete against experienced adventure athletes?

Lack of skill has never stopped us from trying anything before. .  . .

Teams gather for pre-race information. (Brett Lund photo)

The Frigid Infliction is put on by the Green Mountain Adventure Racing Association (GMARA). We would compete in mutiple events, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, postholing (hiking through deep snow without snowshoes), and a Tyrolean traverse (pulling oneself across a suspended rope) all while navigating by map and compass. Teams of two or three individuals (coed or not) compete in divisions. The risk in having a two-person team is that if one of us could not continue, we’d be out of the race because at least two team members had to complete the course. Jim and I were already placing bets as to which one of us would drop out, but I was pleased to read on the GMARA website that the race was well suited to beginner adventure racers. I hoped I would not have to increase my life insurance policy.

The race registration was on Friday night at Bolton Valley Nordic Center, and we drove the two hours up I-89 through impressively deep snow; 14 inches was sticking to the trees as we navigated up the access road to Bolton.

Friday night’s registration included an equipment check, last-minute compass and navigation training, and some pre-race information. The race would start promptly at 5:00 Saturday morning and teams were instructed to arrive a half hour earlier to receive maps and more instructions. The mandatory gear list was laid out for us, and safety was obviously the order of the day. If you became lost or hurt, you needed to be prepared to be in the woods for a while until help arrived. And since all teams were required to carry the same safety items, no one team would have a weight advantage.

Jim near the first checkpoint. (Brett Lund photo)

We had a comfortable room at Bolton’s slopesside Hotel, but we hardly saw the room. So-called “morning” (3:45, yikes!) came much too early. But the competitive juices kicked in, and we were wide awake and ready to race by the time we arrived at the Nordic Center to receive pre-race instructions. Not having done an adventure race before, I had no idea that there would be so little time to review the map prior to starting. Topographical maps and Bolton Valley Nordic Center maps were handed out with race instructions. At this point competitors were given about 10 minutes to develop a plan.

For the first leg, we would compete on snowshoes to find three check points designated on our maps in any order. Jim and I quickly decided to climb to the highest checkpoint first, so that we could move quickly downhill to the next two after locating the first.

Running between checkpoints would be our main advantage. (Brett Lund photo)

After the mass start, the pack quickly broke into three groups. A third of our group had a similar game plan. While out of practice with compass navigation, I knew enough to get us into the right area, then compared the topos of the Nordic Center to help us generalize the location of the checkpoint. Teams with strong compass skills had a distinct advantage in the dark: using observable topography was challenging at best. But as long as you can get close, being observant can help you find the checkpoint.

Checkpoint marker with hole punch dangling. Brett Lund Photo

Much of the traveling took place on Nordic Center trails, though finding the checkpoints would require off-trail navigation. When we felt we were in the right general location, we dove into the woods, and up a hill to eventually locate the first checkpoint. At each of these checkpoints there is an orange “box” flag suspended from a tree. Each has a unique hole punch tool to mark check cards and these are examined by race officials at the finish to determine what checkpoints were found. After checkpoint one, we sped off to the second and third. Running with snowshoes is not too difficult if you are a runner to begin with, and this worked to our advantage. While the second point took time to find, the third was easy as it was in a creekbed. After the three, we high-tailed it back to the start and the first of five transitions.

Transition area 1. Snowshoe to cross- country skis. (Brett Lund photo)

After lashing our snowshoes to our backpacks, we set out on cross-country skis to find three more checkpoints. Two hours had passed, and we were doing surprisingly well.

The next three points had to be found in order, and they would be just off of the cross-country trail system. Comparing topo to trail map made compass work almost unnecessary for this leg. However, these points were a greater distance apart, and we would need to make good course decisions to speed our team along. Again we reached the first point quickly, then prepared to race downhill and across some challenging ski trails to the second point. Cross country skiing on steep and tight terrain can be tough, but add a 25-pound pack to the mix, and it can be VERY challenging. Jim had warned me before the race that skiing would be his Achilles heel. But he showed a lot of grit and determination by repeatedly getting up and dusting himself off after numerous face plants (thank goodness for the 14 inches of new powder!) Made for some great laughs, though.

A fellow competitor checks his map at a transition. (Brett Lund photo)

While we were able to find our three points, we had lost some ground to iced-up bindings and a decision to try an untracked “shortcut” to the third point. Breaking trail can be exhausting, even when you share the task with other teams; by ourselves, it really slowed us down.

During the ski leg we saw much of the Bolton Valley Nordic Center’s expansive and varied trail system. They offer groomed terrain for skate skiers and narrow winding trails for backcountry enthusiasts. I found myself wishing we had more time to just explore.

Jim tackes the Tyrolean traverse. Holy burning forearms! - Brett Lund photo

The next transition put us back on snowshoes for the route to  the Tyrolean traverse (a rope strung tightly across a gulley). Required equipment included a climbing harness and two carabiners for each racer. Using the harness and carabiners, you clip yourself onto the rope, and pull yourself across upside down, with your pack on. This is easy to start, but after you reach the lowest point, you begin pulling uphill, which is a workout. The distance was relatively short, and both Jim and I were across in no time.

The next portion of the race was “postholing.”  Try walking through deep snow with no snowshoes and you get the idea. At times you stay on top, and at times you “post hole” when you break through up to your knees or even thighs. This is where it helped to be back in the pack—we had plenty of teams in front of us to make the travel easier. However, this is also the point in the race where fatigue had begun to set in, and even a simple task can seem difficult.

Once we collected markers from the next three checkpoints, we again transitioned to snowshoes to find the final five checkpoints. Now, time was the issue; we had to finish by 3 p.m, and a costly navigation mistake forced us to miss the last two checkpoints and make a beeline to the last transition area.

Do I have enough energy to chew? Fueling up at the final checkpoint. - Brett Lund photo

When we encountered other teams it was obvious that everyone was fatigued. After nine hours of practically non-stop exercise, my legs were heavy. For the last, long, uphill slog to the finish, Jim opted for snowshoes , while I hopped on my skis. There was no real feeling of “racing” at this point, just a need to finish. A lot of teams were bunched together. We would have no idea how many checkpoints our competitors had found until after the race. We would just have to hope that our combination of checkpoints and time on the course would give us a respectable finish. But truthfully, just finishing would give us plenty of self respect!

We crossed the line at just over 10 hours, and quickly realized that even walking to the car would be a challenge. Thankfully, a hot shower, a hot tub and a small bar awaited in the Nordic Center.

Finished!!! Can someone carry us to the car? Please. (Courtesy photo)

It’s true, this race can be completed by beginners in generally good physical condition. But Jim half jokingly told me not to bother calling in the next six weeks about any adventure races or he’d hang up on me. I think it was the lactic acid talking. Personally I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk for the next six weeks!

Despite the good-natured grumbling though, we both know we’ll be back for next year’s challenge. We’d like to extend a big thanks to GMARA for an exceptional job putting this race together, and to Bolton Valley, whose wondeful terrain and trail system  made for a perfect location.

Editor’s Note: What Brett is too modest to tell you is that Team EasternSlopes.com finished fourth out of 10 teams in their division with an adjusted time of 10:10:18. Congratulations Brett and Jim! For complete results of this year’s race, go here

Max hitchin' a ride.

For our first snowshoe of the season, our two-year old Max (aka “Boonie”) rode in the Ergo backpack carrier, as he has done on so many walks in the woods since he was just a few months old. He has always enjoyed seeing the world from up there, and he’s had a lot of experiences he would not otherwise have had. But things are beginning to change. It’s not just that he’s getting heavy, though he is about 40 pounds and will soon be maxing out the capacity of the carrier . . . if not my back! But he has also begun to realize that he’s missing out on some stuff by being up on Mama’s back. He’s an experimenter, as I guess all kids are, and I try not to curtail his experiments, unless of course they are unsafe. Lately he’s taken to tasting trees. He’ll just walk up to a beech and chomp down on the end of a twig and chew thoughtfully on the bud for a while, as though assessing the vintage. You can’t do these sorts of things when you are strapped to Mama. But although he didn’t seem as intimidated by the first snow this year as he was last year, it did take some getting used to, and then it just kept coming and coming so that while it was a heck of a lot of fun, his short little legs just couldn’t cope. A grownup in this situation who wants to walk in the woods gets herself a pair of snowshoes. But a two-year old?

Can you do this? Max does snow yoga. (Kate Goodin photo)

Max has taught me to be a firm believer in getting “real” stuff. Not only has he made it clear that toy versions of grownup things are not cool, but I’ve realized what a waste of money they are. They are usually barely functional, uncomfortable, and break easily. So when I started investigating snowshoes online, I was at first dismayed at what I found. There are choices, to be sure, but the ones that looked like real snowshoes, i.e. like Mama and Daddy’s, did not look like they’d fit his feet. I guess most folks don’t expect a two-year old to be out snowshoeing on his own two feet.

So we put buying snowshoes on the back burner for a while. Then we went snowshoeing again. Our snowshoes were in the yard already, and while I went in to get the Ergo, Doug stayed outside with Max. I came out to find that not only had Doug put his snowshoes on, but Max had stuffed his feet into MINE and was shuffling around the plowed part of the yard. Hmmm…I decided that perhaps further investigations were in order. Especially after asking, “Max, do you want your OWN snowshoes?” and receiving an emphatic nod of the head and a happy, “Mm-hm!”

Doug’s Mom was due to come up for a visit and looking forward to doing some snowshoeing with us. Doug works at Eastern Mountain Sports and he knew they had a pair of rental snowshoes for kids, so we thought we’d see how they worked for Max. We were still concerned about the bindings fitting his boots. But he’s big for a two-year old, and his feet are bigger still, so I thought they just might work.

He couldn't wait to try them out! (Kate Goodin photo)

The night Doug came home with the snowshoes Max nearly climbed up the front of him to get at them. First he tried to put them on barefoot. Trying to forestall Max until morning, Doug said, “Max, you need BOOTS on to wear snowshoes.” Wrong tactic, Daddy. Max went and got his boots, put them on, and again began stuffing his feet into the bindings. What the heck, I figured. So I got down on my hands and knees and helped him get his boots in place and snugged up the bindings to see if they would fit. Often manufacturers claim they’ve improved bindings by making them easier to put on, especially when they are making something for kids. I figure it’s going to be a few years now before he’s putting his own snowshoes on and I’m not so old I can’t get down on my hands and knees to help. Easier is not always better.

While the bindings did seem to bunch just a tiny bit, they snugged up well enough that his feet didn’t wobble in them. When he started to try walking in them, I threw his jacket on and stuffed some gloves on his hands and we went out into the pitch black. He walked around, pleased as punch, looking up at the stars and the dark silhouettes of the trees against the sky. I don’t know if he could see much after being blinded by the flash of the camera, since proud-Mama had to take pictures, of course. It was cold and neither of us was dressed properly, so we were only out for a few minutes, but we all knew this was the start of something big.

Max strutting his stuff. (Kate Goodin photo)

The next day Max and I went traipsing around in the yard. Then we hopped on the snowmobile trail that cuts across our back field. He was doing great…unfortunately our romp was cut short by a visit from the poop fairy. (We’re in the middle of potty training, still workin’ on it…) Our only real concern with the snowshoes for Max, beyond fit, had been whether he would be thrown off by the need to keep his feet in a wider stance. He really didn’t seem to notice. He even pretty much worked it out by himself when he’d occasionally stand on one shoe with the other. He’d try to move his right foot, realize it was stuck, and move his left instead. Perhaps this flexibility of mind and body is precisely because he is still relatively new at the walking thing. I mean, it really wasn’t all that long ago he was making the same mistakes with just his feet. He took to running in the snowshoes as though it was the most natural thing.

By the time Nona (Doug’s Mom) arrived for her visit, Max was an old hand with the snowshoes. He could walk easily on packed snow in the yard, snowmobile trails, and in powder. We were careful to keep in mind that his stamina is not necessarily what ours is. It’s usually not his body that causes the dragging. Sometimes a two-year old just wants to be carried, whether his legs are tired or not. So when we had an agenda and a goal in mind, we brought the Ergo along. Doug had a daypack with a few extra clothes and when Max said he wanted to ride we took his snowshoes off and strapped them to the pack and strapped Max to my back. Perhaps this is another advantage to starting young. I couldn’t do that with a tired six-year old. (Keep in mind that a kid sitting and riding isn’t going to be producing the same body heat as one romping on snowshoes, so bring an extra layer.)

Max and Nona (Kate Goodin photo)

Max and I had a wonderful walk in the woods the other day. Since we had returned the snowshoes, we were mostly confined to the snowmobile trail where we wouldn’t wallow in the deep snow. We found a mysterious hole, two of them actually, about three inches in diameter. It’s hard to express the joy of watching my little boy lie in the snow, peering down a hole while we wonder what wild thing was here. Then he finds some other amazing, mysterious thing, like a parchment-thin beech leaf stuck in the snow and he points and nods thoughtfully. I look out into the woods and wonder what we might find away from the beaten path.

I miss those snowshoes as much as Max does..

My general advice when looking for gear for your kids, whether it’s snowshoes or hiking gear, or anything for that matter, is to buy the most “real” thing you can find. If you’re not sure they are going to like it, consider renting, or buying used (or do that anyway). Buying toy gear is going to be frustrating for them if they are really interested, and if they are only a little bit interested, equipment that doesn’t really work is certainly not going to help. Unfortunately Tubbs changed the bindings on the Storm snowshoe for kids. I know what we want now, but I’m going to have to search to find a used pair…

Max breaking trail. (Kate Goodin photo)

Tonight at bedtime Max was restless. His teeth are bugging him, but life is so fun, he just doesn’t want to go down. He thrashes and gets himself all wound up. So I lie in bed with him and hold him so tightly he can barely move and keep him calm by talking him through an imaginary walk in the woods. I whisper, “Imagine yourself walking down a path. We’re going to see the frogs’ eggs down the big hill on Eric’s land. Listen…there’s a red squirrel scolding us! ‘Hey you silly thing. We’re only passing through.’ Let’s leave him in peace. Our feet slip in the mud on the hill, and there are new leaves coming out. Do you think there are frogs’ eggs yet? I hear a chickadee, do you? Is that a ruffed grouse drumming? Do you remember the one we saw last year?” I can hear his breathing change as he relaxes and falls asleep. Goodnight, Boonie…

Take one cross-country skier, attach one dog that likes to pull and you have the instant fun of skijoring. (Tim Jones photo)

Here in the northeast, Winter lasts until the end of March, mid-April in a good year.

Why not enjoy it? Snow is an invitation to get outdoors and play. And in late February through all of March the days are long, often warm, the snow is deep and it really is the best of Winter.

Here are some ideas:

Sled: The perfect Active Outdoors sport for a late winter afternoon. All you need is a hill and a sled. The late winter snowpack is settled and dense, perfect for sledding (and making it a lot easier to climb up the hills!). Cheap plastic sleds work fine. If you want to get fancy, get an Airboard or Hammerhead.

Snow Tube: If you like sliding down but don’t like climbing up, most ski hills these days offer lift-serviced snowtubing. For a few bucks you get an hour or two of cheap thrills, no lessons required. Try it under the lights on a warm, late-winter evening.

The author tries snowbiking for the first time. It's easy and great fun. (Pats Peak photo)

Snowbike: It’s the easiest way you’ll ever carve a ski slope. You sit on bike with skis instead of wheels, wear tiny skis on your feet, and tilt your head to one side or the other to turn and stop. Yes, it’s that easy. Pats Peak in Henniker, NH (www.patspeak.com/snowbike.htm) rents the bikes and offers lessons.

Snowscoot: This one is a mystery, but Mont Sutton in Sutton, Quebec (just across the border from Vermont) rents them. It’s apparently similar to a Snowbike but with wider skis (more like snowboards) you can stand on while you hold the handlebars. Gotta try it!

Snowshoe: If you can walk, you can snowshoe. Period. Snowshoes are the ATV’s of the winter world. Deep powder snow can make for tough for off-trail snowshoeing, but perfect snowshoeing on snowmobile trails and cross-country ski trails. When the snow has settled you can go anywhere. Most outdoor shops and cross-country ski areas rent snowshoes. If you’ve never tried it, what are you waiting for?

On a late winter day with blue sky above and plenty of snow. Why would anyone wish for spring? (Tim Jones photo)

XC ski-“Classic”: I just got a letter from a reader who tried cross-country skiing for the first time last Sunday. She’s totally hooked, can’t wait to go again. As she says “Picking up cross-country skiing is incredibly simple!” “Classic” or touring skis let you ski in the prepared tracks of a ski area (go to www.xcski.org for a pretty complete resort finder), or out on the golf course near your house.

XC ski-Skate: Skate skiing needs groomed trails, but it’s faster and even better exercise than “Classic” cross country. Unless you are a really good classic skier, don’t try this without a lesson. But it sure is fun!

If you drive the sled, dogsledding is a great winter sport. (Tim Jones photo)

Dogsled: Not the “tourist” variety where they bundle you in a sled and drag you around for an hour, but one where you help hook up the dogs and drive the sled. Try Mahoosuc Guide Service in Newry, Maine or Song In The Woods near Moosehead Lake in Maine.

Skijor: Dogsledding without the sled. Take one cross-country skier, attach one dog who likes to run. Instant fun. Peacepups and Eden Mountain Lodge in Vermont both give excellent lessons.

Nordic Skate: Skating on natural ice with long skates and cross-country ski boots. Late-winter melts and re-freezes can produce superb ice conditions. Nordic Skater can rent you gear and point you toward safe ice.

Thaws and re-freezes can produce wonderful Nordic skating in late winter. (Tim Jones photo)

That’s 10 ideas you can try this weekend. You could also go ice climbing, winter mountaineering, winter camping (this is absolutely the best time of the winter for that!), kite skiing, backcountry skiing, Telemarking, Randonee racing . . . you get the idea.

You can’t change the weather, so change your attitude, Instead of making yourself miserable yearning for warmer weather, enjoy the snow and cold while we still have it. Think of it this way: Winter is a joy to be savored as long as possible.

Dan gains momentum on skate skis as he and Sam head down one of the bigger hills. Don't be afraid to get some speed, bend your knees, and enjoy the ride! (Caroline McDonald photo.)

Sometimes, you have to move beyond your comfort zone to find outdoor adventure. In this case, my comfort zone was my own bed . . . . 8 o’clock on a Sunday morning rolls around early for everyone, but particularly for college students like me. However, the prospect of snapping into cross-country skis for the first time was more than enough to get me out of bed and moving. Who isn’t excited by the idea of trying out a new sport? Especially when the weather is promising, and two of your best friends are joining you. I roused those friends, Dan and Sam, and we were off to Weston Ski Track, a municipal golf course converted into a winter sports playground conveniently located just outside of Boston. From where I live in Boston’s South End, it’s a quick, 20-minute drive, but is also accessible via the T’s Green Line, D train.

I arrived having no idea what to expect from cross-country skiing and desperately hoping it wasn’t too different from the Alpine skiing I grew up with. One glaring difference became immediately apparent: the price. While a day of downhill skiing with rentals will typically cost you upwards of seventy-five dollars, a whole day of cross-country skiing at Weston requires only a $15 trail pass and another $15 for rentals, including boots, skis or snowshoes, and poles. That’s affordable for almost anyone, even impoverished college kids.

The friendly staff at the rental desk quickly helped us gear up. I was shocked by how thin and lightweight cross-country skis are compared to the downhill skis I’m accustomed to. The boots are also infinitely more comfortable than Alpine ski boots. Cross-country ski boots look and feel like a stiffer version of Air Jordans which were popular in the 80s and are making a comeback now.

Cross country skis are affordable to rent at Weston. They are lightweight and much less intimidating than downhill skis. (Caroline McDonald photo)

My fear of being the obvious amateur was unfounded. Snow enthusiasts of all skill levels visit Weston. While seasoned triathletes were just finishing the last stretch of a race, my friends and I were lacing up our rental boots next to a toddler in a one-piece, yellow snow outfit. I figured if he was out there, anyone could be.

Armed with skis, boots, and height-appropriate poles, plus a trail map, Dan, Sam and I hit the snow. Weston has a flat beginner area ( the cross-country equivalent of a bunny slope)  right outside the door for anyone who wants to ease into the day. I wanted to take one of the beginner lessons Weston  offered, but my friends, who had cross-country skied before, insisted I didn’t need one. They were right! I’ll take a lesson next time to improve my form and efficiency now that I know how much fun it is.

Falling down doesn't hurt. It just makes for funny photos! (Caroline McDonald photo)

Cross-country turned out to be nothing like Alpine skiing. Basic or “classic” cross-country skiing is incredibly simple and easy to learn. I’m sure the lessons are beneficial, especially if you are nervous about trying new things, but I had fun figuring it out myself on my first day. I followed the best and most basic athletic advice my dad ever gave me: “bend your knees!” It served me well that day, and now I pass it on to you for your first cross-country ski experience. Thanks, Dad!.

The lightweight cross-country skis and boots allow you to walk  in them right away. Our skis had scales on the bottom which let us walk right up the gentle hills. What a triumphant feeling when you reach the top, take a look around at the snowy hills, and then gleefully slide down! Even though this was my first experience, I was able to keep up with Dan and Sam.

After exploring the track closest to the lodge for a warmup, we ventured across a rustic wooden bridge over the frozen Charles River and skied on the more remote Goat and Fox Tracks. A few houses are visible through the trees here, but otherwise I could hardly believe we were only 20 minutes from the bustling South End.

One of the great things about Weston is that the low-cost rental fee allows you to try any of the sports offered. After about an hour and a half, Dan traded in his “classic” cross-country skis for skate skis. I’d never seen or even heard of skate skis before visiting Weston! Their name is self-explanatory; wearing them, you skate with the same diagonal stride as ice skating. They are speedier than cross-country skis, and can provide more of a cardiovascular workout if you so desire. Trying them out myself looks like a good excuse to go back.

After Dan’s adventure on skate skis, we couldn’t resist trying snowshoeing, too. But first we stopped to nosh on the delicious, cheap food offered by a little tiki hut outside of the lodge. Yes, you read correctly: delicious and cheap food at a ski lodge! I didn’t know such a thing existed! Weston offers a serious change-up from typical ski-lodge food: everything from Kosher hot dogs to homemade coleslaw. I bought a fresh, Mediterranean salad, and Dan indulged in a skewer of grilled lamb ($7.50!). Properly nourished, we geared up for snowshoeing.

The snowshoes let us take on the tallest, iciest hill we could find. (Caroline McDonald photo)

As a new adventurer, I was delighted to discover that if you can walk, you can snowshoe. Except for digging your spikes into the sides of hills, there isn’t much to it. The fun of clunking around in our new footwear, scaling icy hills, and, in my case, slipping down them on my rear, masked our exhaustion for a while, but eventually we realized it was time to head home.

Weston is an energetic, and friendly ski area, a real urban oasis. Renting your gear  is easy, the people are nice. A friendly staff member even offered us advice for an upcoming camping trip we are all planning.

I ended my day feeling invigorated by my wind-burnt cheeks and sore muscles. I couldn’t wait to share my experience with anyone who’d listen. Imagine, a cheap day of fun outdoor exercise readily available just outside of Boston! I can’t wait for my next trip back to try out skate skis! I’m going to drag some more of my friends out of their comfort zone and get them to try it, too. Want to join us?

The trail into Little Lyford is mostly flat and smooth. On this blue sky-day it felt like heaven, especially knowing the comforts that awaited ahead. (Tim Jones photo)

Imagine this for a winter getaway: You drive to Greenville, Maine, which is, by most people’s standards, pretty darned remote. No, make that very remote. From the center of Greenville, you take Pleasant Street and drive out past the airport, past the last house and drive 11 miles more. Where the road ends, you park your car, stow your luggage in a little shed, then put on your  cross-country skis or snowshoes, and trek 6 to 10 miles (depending on the trail you choose to your destination).  Remember when Greenville seemed remote? Yeah, THIS is remote . . .

But wait a minute, don’t start thinking about snowcaves and winter survival. At the end of this trail, many, many miles into the winter wilds, you’ll find your luggage waiting for you. Even better, you’ll find a cozy cabin with a comfy bed and the woodstove already going. Better still, you’ll find  hot showers, a sauna, and a beautiful lodge building where they serve a scrumptious dinner that evening, breakfast the next morning and put out the makings for a hearty lunch to eat on the trail as you spend the day exploring around the “camp” or  trek another 6 to 10 miles to another equally remote and comfortable outpost.

The cabins and lodge at Little Lyford Pond are warm and inviting at the end of the trail. (Tim Jones photo)

That’s precisely the experience available at the three AMC Maine Wilderness Lodges and their partner operation West Branch Pond Camps. You can stay at any one of these wilderness refuges, or ski from camp to camp to camp to camp. I heartily recommend the experience for anyone who wants a real taste of true winter wilderness and (most of) the comforts of a fine hotel.

My sweetheart Marilyn and I just got back from a three-night, four-day adventure skiing camp-to-camp. We started with a six-mile ski into Little Lyford Pond Camp. I’ve visited Little Lyford three times before, once in the spring for their excellent brook trout fishing, twice before in the winter. Once, I got to be part of the very first camp-to-camp ski experience and once to watch the annual 100-Mile Wilderness Sled Dog Race.

Marilyn’s been nursing a knee injury all winter and we did the trek into Little Lyford very slowly. Once you are away from the parking lot (which sits high on a hill), the trail is mostly flat, always well groomed, and pretty easy, especially since you aren’t carrying a heavy pack. In other words, you don’t have to be a hero to do these treks. And, if you get an early start, there’s no need to hurry.

The weather was perfect for cross country skiing with cloud-dotted blue skies and temps in the mid 20s. When we arrived, our cabin was warm and cozy and we pulled a few icicles from the roof for Marilyn to ice her knee.

Dinner that night was baked haddock. We are eating gluten-free these days and the cook bent over backwards to accommodate our preferences serving ours perfectly done with lemon butter. Just let them know your needs and preferences (meals are planned well in advance) and they’ll take care of you.

The trail from Lyford to Gorman Chairback is just a little less than 7 miles long. There are a few hills but it's perfect for skiing with a light pack and working up an appetite for a great dinner. (Tim Jones photo)

The next morning, we faced a longer, somewhat more challenging trail to the brand-new Gorman Chairback Camp, which was slated to open that very day. We were talking about the trail with Chuck, the manager at Lyford. Chuck heard Marilyn voicing her concerns about her knee on the hillier, longer trail and offered to shuttle her by snowmobile when he took luggage over. She gratefully accepted the ride. Incidentally, snowmobile taxi service is available by prior arrangement for anyone who needs it (which makes the camps accessible to almost anyone), but private snowmachines are banned from the camp and the surrounding trail system.

Another option is to travel by dogsled. Mahoosuc Guide Service schedules several camp-to-camp dogsled adventures each winter. These are real hands-on adventures where the clients help care for the dogs, hook up and drive the dog teams.

While Marilyn rode on the snowmobile, I joyfully skied from Lyford to Gorman with new friends Jim and Alison. This pair are former marathoners, had already skied from Medawisla to West Branch Pond Camps, to Little Lyford on the preceding days, so this was old hat to them. They didn’t exactly set a leisurely pace, but they kindly didn’t try to kill me, either. The trail (just short of seven miles) wanders through lovely woodlands and snow conditions were a perfect 10. From the tracks, it seemed we just missed seeing a moose.

Our destination, the new Gorman Chairback Camp is simply stunning. There are eight lovely log cabins arrayed along the lakeshore, each with comfortable beds and a woodstove. There’s also a beautiful new energy-efficient lodge with indoor plumbing, showers and a sauna. This building was literally getting its finishing touches as we skied up.

The lodge at Gorman Chairback Camp in the wilds of Maine was getting its finishing touches as we arrived. It's energy-efficient and simply beautiful. They serve wonderful meals here, too—welcome after a sauna and hot shower at the end of a day of skiing! (Tim Jones photo)

Despite the fact that we were the very first guests, everything ran smoothly. The food was wonderful at every meal and the camp staff couldn’t have been nicer or more helpful. The first night, they even arranged a magnificent sunset followed by clear skies with billions of stars. Unless you’ve traveled in the high deserts of the west or in the remote arctic, you’ve probably never seen brighter stars than in the wilds of Maine in winter. Nice touch. Oh, and dinner (pot roast) was pretty darned fabulous, too.

We spent a day exploring the trails around Gorman Chairback on snowshoes and skis and only saw a tiny fraction of what’s there. Miles and miles of trails to explore with no one else around. That night we enjoyed another great dinner with new friends (one of the best parts of the AMC camp experience), another comfortable night, and another hearty breakfast brought us to the point where we had to pack up and hit the 8-mile trail back to the car.  The trail was great fun. Leaving wasn’t.

The folks at Gorman Chairback even provided this perfect sunset for our viewing pleasure. (Tim Jones photo)

We enjoyed a lovely ski out with light snow falling. Our luggage was waiting for us in the shed at the parking lot and the car started on the first try. Perfect!

In fact, my only complaint with the whole adventure is that I wish we’d had twice as long. This is my fourth visit to the AMC Maine Lodges, and each time I come home with the same complaint: more time needed. I guess that means we’ll have to go back again. Maybe we’ll see you there.

Going Prepared

Even on maintained trails with a warm camp on either end, you are still miles from shelter at times. Carry the gear you need to keep yourself safe and comfortable.

Any good “touring” skis will do. Marilyn and I used our Alpina “Discovery” waxless backcountry skis and they were perfect. In backpacks, we both carried extra clothing, including lightweight, warm “puffy” jackets, mittens, hats, hand and toe warmers, a water bottle in an insulated sleeve, and plenty of lunch. I also had a foam pad, a light sleeping bag and a thermos of hot tea along with my ever-present emergency kit and first aid kit. Maybe this was overkill, but if Marilyn’s knee gave out and she couldn’t continue, I wanted to be able to make her warm and comfortable while I went for help.

The AMC supplies maps which are very good (if you know how to read maps). But you should definitely carry a compass, too, and know how to use it.

If you don’t think you’d be comfortable venturing on backcountry trails on your own, the AMC can arrange guided camp-to-camp ski adventures.

If you have any questions about the AMC Maine Lodge experience or would like a more complete list of what to take on backcountry ski adventures just write to me in the comments section below, I’ll see that your questions get answered.

"The Babushka Girls" at the start of the 2011 Tubbs Romp To Stomp Out Breast Cancer. (Courtesy photo)

Our day started very early—up by 4am and on the road by 5  to make the 3-hour drive to the Vermont 2011 Tubb’s Romp to Stomp snowshoe series that benefits the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. This year’s romp took place at the Stratton Mountain Ski Resort in southern Vermont and included a “Lil Romp,” a 3k snowshoe race, and two tours of 3k and 5k.

True outdoor enthusiasts who love to do anything in the snow, Roger and I were not fazed by the long drive, even with snow on the roads. Besides, our team, “The Babushka Sisters” would be counting on us to show up. Three members of the team are Slovak (Pat, Karen and Patty), thus the name. The other 2 (Paul and Roger) aren’t Slovak ( or girls) but, in the name of a good cause, we let them be honorary Babushkas for the day.

A member of the Pink Flamingo Team displays her finery. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

The car thermometer said 19 degrees when we arrived at the Sun Bowl base lodge at Stratton Mountain. Despite the name, the sun wasn’t shining. However, compared to the below-zero temps and high winds of last year’s event, it felt practically balmy. We had come prepared for any weather: wicking base layers; hats, gloves, and neck warmers; insulation layers and windproof outer shells and of course, our babushkas.

The place was hopping and the color pink was in full display. Dressing up or wearing pink are not requirements but let me tell you there was ample silliness on display in both color and costumes. We checked in, got our numbers in no time thanks to the organization of the Tubb’s Staff and the many cheerful volunteers.

Silliness for a serious cause! This team should have taken home a prize for the "raciest" costume!

The seriousness of the cause was also evident in the many breast cancer survivors who were romping today, and by the myriad of participants who were doing the event in memory of someone who had not survived this horrible disease. Our group alone wore 6 names in honor of women we knew.

With 879 of us at the start line (a 2% increase in participants over the 2010 event) the energy was palpable!

The 5k trail was along one of the more moderate ski trails. It had just enough hills to make a few people step to the side of the group to catch their breath.  Cheers, laughter, horn blowing and the stomp of 879 snowshoes meant this wasn’t a quiet walk in the woods.  Mothers carried children when they grew tired, people exchanged picture taking, and dogs on leashes behaved.

Most of the costumes stayed intact except for some pink “hair” that got caught in a tree branch and one pink bra that came undone along the way!  The group moved along as one, slow and steady—this was not a race.  Everyone finished in good time and good humor.

Her mother is getting the workout as the "lil romper" tires. (Karen Chickering photo)

Now the awards would begin and there were many: awards for participating, awards for racing, awards for fundraising….and the real award of having done something meaningful over a disease you can’t control.

If you want to contribute to the fight against breast cancer we’d be happy to see you in 2012 at the next Romp. If you can walk, you can do it!  And if you don’t have snowshoes no problem. Tubbs will be there lending out their latest models free of charge for the event.

If you choose not to actively participate, please donate to a friend who is Romping.

879 participants and counting. (Roger Lyon-Surrey photo)

Hooray to all of this year’s participants!:

The amount of money raised to date at this one event: $80,473.32 Final figures won’t be in until March.
The largest amount raised by an individual: $5930.
The largest amount raised by a team: $12,267.87.

Now The Relaxing . . .

The Babushka team broke up after the awards ceremony with Karen promising that she would sew five bright pink babushkas and matching pink aprons lined with lace for next year’s event. Patty, Paul and Karen headed to nearby Manchester, Vermont to have lunch and check out the upscale outlet Stores before heading home. There is a lot to do in this area besides Romp.  Manchester is known for its designer outlet stores, an unusual commodity in Vermont.  There are 4 downhill ski areas, a number of Nordic ski centers, galleries, great restaurants and the largest independent book store in Vermont—Northshire Bookstore all within a  30 minute drive.

Roger and I were staying at the Landgrove Inn for the night and decided to make a stop at the Southern Vermont Arts Center in Manchester to see their annual Winter Member’s Exhibition before checking in at the Inn. The long driveway to the Southern Vermont Art Center was an art exhibit of its own; the natural beauty of the birch trees lining the road and the various sculptures placed in the meadows of this former estate all caught my attention on either side.

The juried member’s exhibit turned out to be much larger than we expected filling ten galleries with paintings, photographs, sculpture and mixed media pieces.  We took our time looking through all the galleries and seeing if we were in agreement on our top 3 entries.

Twenty minutes after leaving the Art Center we arrived at the Landgrove Inn at and met co-owner Maureen Checchia. Landgrove Inn is an authentic 1810 farmhouse set in an unspoiled mountain valley outside a tiny Vermont village. I couldn’t help but contrast it with the busy-ness of Stratton Mountain Resort and the Manchester area. What a welcome change! There were no malls, no condos, just thirty-five acres of quiet to explore.

The Landgrove Inn. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

Maureen showed us around, told us some of the history of the inn and encouraged us to relax, eat from the pot of chili that was on in the den for guests or indulge ourselves with the chocolate chip cookies and tea that are always available.  Having been up before dawn, I was ready for a shower and a nap before dinner—of course, Rip Van Winkle Roger agreed.

At 5:00 we wandered back to the rustic bar and lounge area of the Inn where a buffet of wine and hors d’oeuvres were being set up for an après ski group.  Before I could even order a glass of wine at the bar one of the members of the group invited us to join them at the buffet. Sue, a long time member, was setting out 5 Italian cheeses for sampling that she promised I would enjoy. She told me that their group, the Valley Ski Club of Connecticut, had been coming to the inn each January for over 35 years. When they had first started coming here, the inn was only an après ski place where separate dorm rooms for “girls” and “boys” housed the group. In fact, at that time, they didn’t have to drive—there was a ski train that took them into Manchester from which they would be bussed up to the inn in two busses—one for them and one for their equipment.

Buffet set-up in the bar/lounge section of the Inn. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

Maureen had told me that 80% of their business was returning guests and this certainly fit for the club. They had reserved 13 of the 18 rooms at the inn for this week-end. Tom, the other half of the Landgrove Inn owner duo, was concerned we would find the presence of so many skiers in one place disquieting. I only found it fascinating. Many of these people had been skiing together for the life of the group. Ruth, an original member of the club, told me that some of the members no longer skied because of age or physical ability but had switched to hiking or snowshoeing as their bodies had changed. Talk about active seniors!

Toasting their long, active friendship. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

I continued to ask questions of the group while Roger simply sat in a rocking chair before the fire with a beer in hand. When I joined him I noticed that the wood ceiling above was carved with names and dates. Tom told me that in the days before Maureen and his time at the inn the ski guests took to carving their names in the wooden ceiling with a hot poker from the wood stove. He would like to insulate the ceiling and cover up the “graffiti” but most of his guests think it would take away from the charm of the room.

There was an intergenerational foosball game going on among the guests, a number of whom had just recently met. Truly this room offered a convivial and friendly atmosphere that encouraged mingling yet offered enough space to be on your own if desired. I had a hard time removing myself from the glow of the wood stove and the warmth of the company but our dinner reservation beckoned.

This Foosball game was a challenge of the ages. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

The dining room has cozy tables for two or four, and expandable seating for large parties. Their menu offers a variety of appetizers and entrees as well as homemade soups and daily specials. Roger and I both had salads with house dressings–his a balsamic vinegar, mine a garlic based dressing.  I chose the crispy duck in cherry sauce with sides of rice pilaf and fresh green beans done al dente for my entrée. Roger ordered one of the evening’s specials: Pork Mediterranean– medallions of pork in a tomato, capers, olive and artichoke mix. Unfortunately we didn’t have room for dessert although I would have loved to sample the apple crisp, the cranberry cheese tart AND the brownie sundae! We went to bed early with a vision of tomorrow’s ski on the Inn’s 10 k of trails beckoning.

After a full breakfast of French toast, poached eggs and sausage we changed into ski clothes and met Carl Eric–as he likes to be called–at the ski center which is attached to the inn. Carl Eric, 69, has been running his satellite ski business, housed at the inn, for 15 years. He rents skis and snowshoes if you don’t have your own, and grooms and tracks the inn’s 10k of trails. Skiing is by donation. He is also a registered ski instructor if you need a lesson. Curt lived in Sweden until age 7 when he and his family moved to the states. I think he must be responsible for the recipe for the “glog” that is available at the inn to warm you after a ski!

The trails are tracked for classic skiing and there are plenty of choices for the beginner to the advanced skier. The inn’s 10k of trails connect to the National Forest trails which are maintained by a local ski club. The Catamount Trail (a 300 mile backcountry trail that runs the length of Vermont) shares a part of these 10k, too. Since we had our 3 hour trip back to northern Vermont ahead of us, we decided to sample only the inn trails.

The flat to undulating trails have no big hills to climb or descend.  Most Nordic ski areas in Vermont are either all up or all down and this is a welcome change, a great place to enjoy an even tempo or practice technique. Open views of meadows, barns and the small town of Landgrove offer the quintessential beauty of Vermont as you ski. After about 1 1/2 hours of skiing, we reluctantly took off our boots and said our goodbyes.

A view of the Village of Landgrove from the ski trail. (Patricia Lyon-Surrey photo)

The week-end was perfect with two days of exercise, good food, good company and the pure joy of having participated in an activity to better the world. I would encourage anyone who wants a relaxing yet active Vermont experience to put a team together for the Romp to Stomp and then bring yourself over to the Landgrove  Inn for your own après snowshoe celebration. I wish I had brought the rest of the Babushksa Sisters along!