My Strange Rescue, and Other Stories of Sport and Adventure in Canada

by J. Macdonald Oxley

To the Indian the canoe, snow-shoe, and toboggan were quite as important implements as the spade, the plough, and the rake are to the farmer. Without them he could not in winter-time have roamed the snow-buried forests, whose recesses supplied his table, or voyaged in the summer-time upon the broad rivers and swift-running streams, whose bountiful waters furnished him their ready toll of fish. His white brother has in adopting them put them to a different use. He had no particular need for them in his work, but he was quick to see how they would help him in his play, and erelong they had all three become favourite means of sport and recreation.

Snow-shoeing disputes with tobogganing the honour of being Canada's national winter sport; for although snow-shoes have been seen in Siberia and Tartary, and are used to some extent in Scandinavia, in none of these places do the people derive much amusement from them. Simple as the snow-shoe seems, I would not advise any one to try to make a pair for himself. Only the Indians can do this really well, and even in Canada the vast majority of shoes are put together by dusky hands.

This is how they make a shoe of three feet six inches, which is a fair average size:—A piece of light ash about half-an-inch thick, and at least ninety inches in length, is bent to a long oval until the two ends touch, when they are lashed strongly together with catgut. Two strips of tough wood about an inch broad are then fitted across this frame, one being placed about five inches from the curving top, the other some twenty inches from the tapering end. The object of these strips is to give both strength and spring to the shoe. The three sections into which the interior of the frame has thus been divided are then woven across with catgut, each having a different degree of fineness in the mesh, the top section being very fine, the middle section, upon which almost the whole strain comes, coarse and strong, and the end section a medium grade between the other two. The gut in the middle section is wound right around the framework for the sake of greater strength, but in the other two is threaded through holes bored at intervals of an inch or so. Just behind the front cross-bar an opening about four inches square is left in the gut netting, in order to allow free play for the toes in lifting the shoe at each step. Both wood and gut must be thoroughly seasoned, or else the one will warp, and the other stretch and sag until the shoe is altogether useless.

The shoes are made in many shapes and of many sizes, ranging from two to six feet in length, and from ten to twenty inches in breadth. But for all practical purposes a shoe measuring three feet six inches by twelve or fifteen inches is the best. In racing, narrower shoes are used, but they rarely go below ten inches, that being the regulation measurement for club competitions. Then, again, some snow-shoes are turned up in front like tiny toboggans, instead of being flat, this kind being worn principally by ladies.

And now supposing that we have a pair of shoes entirely to our satisfaction, let us constitute ourselves members of a snow-shoe club, and take a tramp with it. Snow-shoeing is immensely popular in Montreal, as all visitors to the winter carnival well know. There are twenty or more organized clubs there, the membership in most cases being rigidly confined to the masculine gender, and every fine night in the week, all winter long, some club or other has a meet. Discipline is pretty strictly enforced at these club tramps, and seeing how earnestly the members go about the business, an onlooker might well be pardoned for thinking that there was quite as much work as play in this particular amusement. The pace set and the distance travelled are both beyond the powers of beginners, so that unless one is willing to stand a good deal of merciless chaffing, and have a pretty hard time of it altogether, it is better to wait until fairly familiar with the use of the raquet (the French name for the snow-shoe) before joining a club.

THE START.

Let us imagine, then, that it is one of those glorious nights in midwinter when this dull old earth of ours seems transformed into fairy-land. The snow lies in white depths upon the ground, dry and firm as ocean sand; Jack Frost has brought the mercury away down some points below zero, and the keen air sets every nerve a-tingle; a superb full-orbed moon swings high in the heavens, flooding the wintry world with her silver splendour, and a hundred active, muscular young fellows have gathered at the rendezvous, clothed in white blanket coats with rainbow borders, brilliant blue sashes and tuques (conical knitted caps sacred to snow-shoeing), knickerbockers of the same material as the coats, and stockings of the same colour as the sashes, while on their feet are soft moccasins skilfully decorated by Indian fingers. Sharp on time the club captain arrives, and in a trice all hands are down upon their knees fastening the raquets to their feet.

"Are you all ready?" shouts the captain. A hearty chorus of "Ay, ay," rings out on the keen air. "Off, then!" he answers, striding rapidly away, his followers stringing out in a long line behind, for the walking is always done in Indian file, and they set forth to attack the mountain, which towers up so grandly behind the city, forming one of the finest parks in the world.

The line of march is made up very simply. The captain who is selected for that much-coveted position because of his renown for speed and endurance, as well as his knowledge of the best routes, takes the lead. The rank and file follow in any order they please, and the rear is brought up by the whipper-in. Although the post of whipper-in is not much coveted, that officer ranks next in importance to the captain, and should be one of the strongest and most experienced members in the club. His really arduous duties are to quicken up the laggards, assist the unfortunate, and inspire the despondent, for upon him it depends to have the club all in together at the end of the tramp. Wending along the snow-covered tree-bordered paths, or diving deep into the forest where there are no paths at all, the long thin line climbs steadily upward, growing longer as the steep ascent begins to tell upon the weaker ones, and they lag behind. At length the summit is reached, and a halt is called for a few minutes, that the panting, perspiring climbers may get their breath, and close up the gaps in their ranks.