Two-Heel Drive

Nothing to it, according to readexpress.com

There’s lots to love about it, starting with the swift learning curve. “You can go from novice to expert in a day and get maximum enjoyment without a lot of fumbling around,” promises Delph. That’s because snowshoeing is basically walking, and once you get a feel for the bulk of the shoes and the fact that you’re sliding around a bit, you’re a pro. Just make sure not to step on one shoe with the other. “That’s a good way to fall over,” Delph says. Still feeling off balance? Add trekking poles.

The movement may be familiar, but what’s not is the intensity. According to Mary Jo Tarallo, director of education for SnowSports Industries America, people can easily burn 500 calories per hour hitting the slopes in snowshoes. “You have to pick your feet up high. That’s a leg burner. And even though the shoes are light, there’s extra weight on your feet,” she explains. Alford, too, gushes about the health benefits of the sport, crediting it for slimming him down. “It takes a lot of energy. You’re constantly working, especially in deep snow,” he says.

Remember anytime you read “It burns 500 Calories in an hour!” that an hour on a treadmill working up a good sweat also 500 calories. Next to mountain and rock climbing, snowshoeing is among the most sweat-inducing outdoor activities in the winter. This, of course, will oblige you to buy lots of expensive layers of apparel at your local REI but hey, what’s money for anyway?

Here’s my most recent snowshoe outing (from this time last year).

There is nothing remotely pleasant about trying to travel with oblong webbed contraptions strapped to one’s lower extremities. But they do provide one pleasure that balances out the pain: the ability to stomp through hip-deep snow without sinking to your hips. It just feels like getting away with a crime or something.

If you’re going out in the Sierra snows, you need to know your avalanche preparedness.

Got my first real miles in with snowshoes this week — around seven miles out to Dewey Point at Yosemite and back to Badger Pass. Took a nice up-and-down route along the Ridge Trail on the way in and came back on the gentle Summit Meadows route. First-glance summation: Snowshoeing is interesting, but it’s not fun.

The unfun parts:

The noise: The crunch-crunching of snowshoeing on hard-packed snow is borderline intolerable compared to the near silence of walking on dirt. Forget about hearing any wildlife — it’ll hear you coming a quarter mile away and flee long before you’re in earshot. Walking on untracked powder is quieter, but it exposes you to …

The risk: The margin for error is way, way tighter in the winter. Much easier to get lost, much harder to get found. Natural-born klutzes like me appreciate all the margin we can get; what we appreciate less is …

The mess: Snowshoe tracks are a blot on the snow-covered landscape. Heavily traveled snow trails are several times more visually disturbing than dirt trails. And most of all, you have to deal with …

The struggle: Trying to walk with those things strapped to your feet is not as ungainly as you might think, but it’s a lot heavier — which means more exertion, more sweat and more time wishing you were done hiking for the day.

The interesting parts:

The mental challenge: People who stay indoors look at a hill and see an obstacle. People who go outdoors see a hill and hear a dare. If you’ve never been snowshoeing, you need to be prepared for the unfun factor, but if you climb hills for no other reason than the satisfaction of getting up there, you’re not apt to be daunted by snowshoeing’s inherent difficulties.

The wildness: You can get way, way out into the woods and never see anybody you don’t want to see. Knowing how to get back — even in a blinding snowstorm — is a daunting prerequisite, but it’s the kind of knowledge you should have all year anyway.

The view: Winter shows you things you’ll never see in the summer: The curve of a snow drift; layers piled atop a rock; footprints of little critters foraging for food. I grew up with enough blizzards, car wrecks and snowshovel-induced back pain to have very little warmth in my heart for snow-flocked landscapes. But I can’t help feeling the magic of being in the wilderness in winter.

So, those are the pluses and minuses. Walking on dirt at your natural pace comes naturally, especially compared to trudging through snow wearing heavy, webbed devices strapped to your feet. The charms and the challenges of the winter environment are pretty-good compensation.