Kerflumpf. Mumpf. Fump. It’s difficult to describe exactly the sound that snowshoes make in 18 inches of fresh, fluffy snow. I can tell you that the soundtrack includes some huffing and puffing, and the swish, swish, swish of nylon sleeves as arms swing their assistance. At the start of our recent dive into the polar vortex, I traded skis for snowshoes and headed out into the untracked forest.
The woods felt peaceful and serene. Only snow-plops blown out of treetops marred the smooth drifts. Winter, I thought to myself, can feel pretty lonely sometimes. If only I was smaller.