SNOWSHOEING is surely one of the most fascinating of sports. To the uninitiated it might appear strange that there should be any pleasure in ambling along over the snow in a manner somewhat resembling the ungraceful waddle of that unornamental bird, the domestic duck, and with feet hampered by the weight and the inconvenient form of a pair of ungainly snowshoes, so-called.
To a certain extent our captious critic would be right; the source of enjoyment is to be found in the accessories of the sport, and in the knowledge that under him are many feet of yielding snow, in which he would be helplessly floundering but for the aid of his trusty raquettes.
Then there is the peculiar indefinable charm of the winter scenery, the beautiful effects of the sunset on the dazzling expanse of snow, scenic effects perhaps even more entrancing when the pale moonlight casts ghostly shadows here and there, and brings into brilliant prominence some snow-crowned elevation in the landscape. I cannot do better than quote the glowing description which a noted American writer gives of the appearance of the country over which he tramped on one of his first excursions on “the merry snowshoe”:
“The mountain rose up behind us, covered with snow. Away toward the declining sun the landscape spread as far as the eye could reach, with low white hills away off on the horizon. Between the hills and the foreground flowed the river under its cover of ice. The red, wintry sun now low in the heavens, touched the prominent points of the rolling, snow-covered country with crimson, while the far-off clouds that stood motionless in the sky were of all the hues of the rainbow, and these varied tints were in turn faintly reflected on the broad expanse of spotless snow.”
The snow, let it be borne in mind, is not of the nature or consistency of that which falls in softer climes; it is so fine, so dry and loose as much to resemble flour, only infinitely whiter, and of dazzling purity.
MR. J. G. ROSS, CHAMPION SNOWSHOE RUNNER, CANADA.
As many of my readers very probably have never seen a snowshoe, a short description of its form and construction may not be amiss. It consists, broadly speaking, of a framework composed of a long, narrow piece of hickory wood, over which is stretched a network of thongs, or cords, made sometimes of strips of deerskin dried and prepared in a peculiar manner, and sometimes made of the intestines of animals. This network is called the “gut.” The hickory rod of which the frame is to be made, after having been steamed and steeped in boiling water, and so rendered pliable, is placed edgewise and then bent round somewhat in the shape of a tennis-bat, with an oval-shaped front, and the two ends joined together at one extremity and tapering off to a point corresponding to the handle of the tennis-bat. The total length of the shoe is about three feet, the extreme width from thirteen to sixteen inches. Across the oval and fitted into the inside of the framework by mortises, are two bars or battens of wood, each of them five or six inches clear of either end. In front of that cross-bar nearest the fore part of the shoe is an open space, and over the bar a deerskin thong is fastened, forming an aperture for the reception of the great toe. The thong is then crossed over the top of the foot, passed around the ankle once or twice and then tied. This leaves the heel free to move in any direction; the toe works in and out of the opening in the shoe, and in lifting the shoe in making a step forward its weight rests on the toe. When placing the foot down again the toe touches the snow first. Occasionally the framework is adorned with tufts of many-colored wool.
The size and shape of the snowshoe varies according to the requirements or the taste of its owner. Some are nearly round and present a squat appearance; others again are long and narrow, and resemble somewhat in shape the Norwegian ski.