It was probably in the late 1980’s or early 90’s that our Forest District got its first couple of pairs or Sherpa snowshoes. None of us had ever seen snowshoes like that and everyone was anxious to try them out. Their rims were made of light weight metal, and instead of leather webbing, they had a solid covering of some kind of heavy plastic. Their big attraction however, were the metal claws on the bottom. These claws allowed a much firmer grip on the snow; something that was very welcome in the steep terrain of the Robson Valley.
Those modern snowshoes certainly didn’t have the physical attraction or the artistic grace of the traditional bent wood with leather webbing, of the handmade snowshoes that we were used to, but they did provide more stability on snowy slopes which was very welcome.
The subject of snowshoes always puts me in mind of another of the snowshoe experiences I had. I had to check a timber cruise that was done by a local mill. The cruise was high on a timbered mountain slope in the far reaches of Castle Creek. No road had yet been built to the area, so I had to arrange for a helicopter to fly Bob a coworker, and myself somewhere close to the cruise area to drop us off.
When the helicopter got us up there, it could find no level area to land, but it did find a open area on the snowy slope. The pilot got as close to the slope as he could then hovered, allowing us to jump out onto the snow.
I went first. I opened the door, and faced a storm of blowing snow made by the helicopters rotors. I stepped down to the running board of the helicopter, then jumped the three feet to the snow below.
I was extremely surprised when I sank up to my crotch in the fluffy powdered snow. Through the blowing snow caused by the helicopter, Bob handed me my snowshoes. I moved my legs around the best I could, to clear a space which would allow me to put on my snowshoes. It was a real struggle to to do that, half-buried in the deep snow.
Once I had both of them on, I stomped down the snow beneath the helicopter door, so Bob would not sink in the snow like I did. The helicopter was still hovering and blowing a storm of snow around. Bob handed me his snowshoes, then he jumped down. I signaled to the pilot that we were fine, and we watched as the chopper took off, growing ever smaller against the mountain slope, until it disappeared, leaving us alone, miles away from any other people.
Even with the snowshoes on, our steps sank about a foot into the fluffy snow. As we got closer to the area we needed to check, we ran into a very large patch of tall false azalea plants that were half buried in the snow, but sticking out, and tangling with our snowshoes, with each step we took They really hampered and slowed our travels. By the time we finally got to the cruise area, we had to rush to check a few of the cruise plots, because the spot where the helicopter was going to pick us up down beside the river, was a very long hike away, and would take us a couple of hours to get there. Luckily we made it down in time, and had checked enough plots to satisfy our requirements.
I will always remember that leap into that powder snow, and how surprised I was. Those were exhaustingly long days on snowshoes, but luckily my body was still young and strong. Looking back, they seem a lot more exciting than they did when I was struggling through them.
Below is a photo showing the metal claws on the bottom of the modern style snowshoes.
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