For all my winter outdoor activities over the years I had never got round to snow-shoeing. I guess that's partly because as a skier I had always regarded it as a bit infra dig.
However, my mountaineering companion, Alex, doesn't ski and so for a winter weekend in the mountains snow-shoeing was always a possible option for the two of us.
Quite suddenly on New Year's Eve Alex proposed an outing and three days later we were on the evening plane to Geneva. There is something exhilirating about doing something at the drop of a hat on minimal forward-planning. With no time to build up expectations everything is a pleasant surprise. I think I shall make spontaneity a New Year's resolution, if that is not an oxymoron.
A short drive in a hire car brought us late at night to the small picturesque Savoyard village of Abondance in France to the South of the lake.
There was little snow left in the village (850m) and the valley was in cloud the next morning – not a promising start. Still we hired the snow shoes and bought the wherewithal for a picnic, crusty baguette, the outstanding local mountain cheese and a saucisson and then headed up a steep side road in the car to where the snow started (1100m).
This looked more like it, a bit off the beaten track but signs of other walkers having set out, I confess to not actually having the relevant map. The basic idea was to stick to a totally safe non avalanche-prone route mainly on forest track. There would be no ARVA, shovel and probe for this one, unlike when I go ski-touring. Actually I was in the mood for something risk-free and non-technical.
We adjusted the straps and foot-length on the snow shoes as explained in the shop. In the old days they looked like a pair of tennis rackets (hence the French expression "raquettes") but not any more. Your modern snow shoe is a fairly lightweight piece of heavy-duty plastic shaped like a boat. It is equipped underneath with several steel points to stop it slipping when icy. You strap it onto a regular hiking boot by tightening adjustable straps similar to those on a snowboard. The heel is free but can be blocked for steep descent, so you don't go arse over tit if your foot gets stuck. The rear blocker can also be used as a wedge beneath the heel for steep ascent, all this being very similar to a ski-touring binding. The pivoting toe section is equipped with crampon front pointers should the going get really tough. In short the modern snow shoe is a convincing bit of kit, with several refinements that go beyond merely presenting a large enough surface to prevent sinking into the snow too far. The only other thing you need of course is a pair of sticks.
After a couple of false starts we headed off in the right direction and suddenly the clouds started to disperse, initially inundating us with a special blue light then lifting to reveal a wall of snow dusted cliffs and peaks at the end of the valley. The forest track wound steadily upwards and walking with the snow shoes came naturally, you didn't have to keep your legs too far apart to prevent yourself standing on the other shoe and it was only marginally more tiring than walking without them. However, stepping backwards to take a photo proved to be problematic.
At one point we could see that our track did a number of zig-zags before emerging out of the trees much higher and there was a clear direct steep route up off the track where people had skied down. This was too good to resist so we struck out into some seriously deep and later steep snow to see how the shoes performed in more serious conditions. They went remarkably well, holding me securely and comfortably.
We emerged from the shade into the sun at a high Alpine pasture dotted with small closed-up summer chalets under snow-covered roofs. From here a narrower path was signed as leading to a pass up a safe looking route, so since it was still early this seemed a reasonable destination to aim for and we climbed on. The views got better and better. It was a tonic to see clear blue sky with the sun reflecting of the dazzling snow after two weeks of indifferent grey weather in Brussels. At the top we could see across to a distant jagged ridge. We realized from a sign that we had come up 600m and hence were feeling a bit tired so sat down to enjoy our picnic in the sun and admire the view. This was most definitely what we had come for.
On the way down we couldn't resist the temptation of taking the same short cut and had to work out the best technique. I went for blocking the heels and semi-gliding down in a line perpendicular to the slope. The deep snow and steel points on the shoes offered sufficient grip to remain in control and it was geat fun to stride on down the steep hill through virgin snow.
Snow-shoeing was turning out to be easy and enjoyable. I confess to being slightly envious of those on touring skis shooting past us occasionally. It confirmed what I knew that it's faster and less tiring to ski back down (though obviously more tiring and a bit slower uphill given the weight of the skis on your feet). Because of that you can cover much more ground on skis than on snow shoes. Still on relatively easy terrain for a leisurely day out snow shoes are an attractive option requiring little technique.
Snow-shoeing offers a great opportunity to get out into that special crystal clear silent environment that is the mountains in winter.
