After an early lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches (ridiculously early if you subtract the time change) we drove to Bonshaw Hills Provincial Park. Susan’s snowshoes have developed a tear where the bindings rub so she was on library shoes whereas I was trying out a pair newly bought from Sportchek.
The sporting gods smiled on Susan and gave her wonderful passage on all types of terrain whereas they frowned on me. Within minutes I knew these shoes weren’t up to the task. On the gentlest of inclines I had little grip and when the ground rose I was sliding.
We had selected a long route and were insistent on accomplishing it so we forged ahead regardless. Was it a smart idea to take a side trail called the Witches Way? No, it turned out to be truly evil. Ropes were strung between tree trunks to give the unsteady climber a fighting chance. Despite them I slithered and stumbled, cursing my way up a steep slope. Susan waited at the top having scampered up like a nimble young gazelle.
At three kilometres and seventy-five minutes in we took stock. I had been breaking trail on virgin snow for several minutes and I was getting tired, not to mention frustrated with slithering so we chose to turn around and trudge back. My feet had long since turned numb with the cold yet I could feel squishiness in my socks. I realized I had been relying on my three year old Gore-Tex boots for too long.
By the time we were back at the parking lot I was more than ready to jump into a warm car and head for home. Tomorrow will be returns day at Sportchek.
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