Three weeks ago, I went snowshoeing at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. I started this entry then, but I haven’t been able to finish it. Today truly feels like spring (at last), and I decided I’d better take the time to complete this essay before it no longer has any relevancy.
March temperatures have finally arrived. With a few days above freezing, the snow is starting to degrade. I took advantage of a still-below-freezing morning Saturday to make what I hope is my final snowshoeing trip of the winter at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.
It was still chilly when I set out, only 20 degrees Fahrenheit, which is actually warmer than any of my other trips this year. I left my heavy gloves at home in favor of thin, knitted ones, since my hands usually grow so warm that I have to remove my heavy gloves. Initially, this didn’t seem like a good idea. The first part of the trail passes down a hill in deep shade, and my hands grew very cold. By the time I climbed the first high hill, however, I was warming up. I followed my typical route of up the hills, skirting the prairie, and circling down to head to the wildflower garden and arbor vitae collection.
I had thought to see more people on a Saturday morning, when temperatures were forecast for the 20s (instead of the teens), but I saw only one other woman snowshoeing for the first mile or so. I had intended to head for the prairie loop first, but when I saw she was headed that way, I chose the other direction to allow each of us our solitude. I actually saw more people walking on the Three-Mile Drive than I saw snowshoeing.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun is so much higher in the sky now, and the sky is a much brighter blue. Were it not for the deep snow, it might feel and look more like spring. The sun is working on the snow. Parts of the trail were icy, where the snow had melted and frozen again.
The snow is still very deep, however, and as the sun and warmer temperatures work on it, it is becoming less solid in spots. I was glad for my poles, for some parts of the trail were slippery and unstable. I could see, too, where people had walked on the snowshoe trail—prints from boots and yak trax were clearly visible—and it was easy to tell where they stepped off the trail. Their prints sank deeply into the snow: more than 12 inches. There is still plenty of snow on the ground.
The birds and squirrels seemed glad of the warmer temperatures. I saw and heard more birds on this trip than I have on any of my others. A pair of downy woodpeckers, in particular, was far more intent on each other than on me. I came upon them flying around a grove of trees, and despite the crunch of my snowshoes on the late winter snow, they did not seem to notice me—or at least they hardly cared. One of them flew so close to me that I could hear the thrumming sound of its wingbeats. It landed on a branch only a few feet from me, watching the other bird, and only when I moved my arm a little to rest my pole, did it seem to notice me. The other woodpecker fluttered to a nearby branch, and without another look at me, the first one flew after it.
I saw evidence of a raptor, as well. I took a picture of what looks like squirrel fur, with a few drops of blood nearby, left smack in the middle of the trail. There were no other tracks around, so I doubt it was a fox that was the attacker. There also were no entrails, so either the raptor caught only the tail, and the squirrel escaped, or it carried it away to eat it elsewhere. Only a few feet farther down the trail, a fat squirrel was scampering between the trees. I couldn’t see its tail well enough to see if it was missing a tuft of fur.
I saw fewer deer tracks this time. Perhaps the deer have moved off elsewhere. It must have been a hard winter for them, what with the deep snow and cold temperatures. I wonder about the other birds and beasts that winter in the area. How hard was it on them?
It was a lovely day to be out, with the sun shining so brightly and the air crisp and fresh. I traveled 3 miles and found that endorphin rush again. To give you an idea of how many hills I climbed, my Fitbit One recorded that I climbed the equivalent of 50 flights of stairs. I did not have to worry about my hands or any part of me being cold for very long.
I will miss my snowshoeing when spring finally comes, but I will be glad when the snow melts and I can walk or run the Arboretum trails, my eyes refreshed with the green of growing things after this long winter of white and black.
snowshoeing
Snowshoeing
After all the busyness of preparing for Christmas, and after all of the cold weather we’ve been having, I took advantage of the beautiful day to go snowshoeing today. It was indeed a lovely winter day: temperatures in the 20 degrees Fahrenheit (above zero) range, no wind, a few big snowflakes falling from the sky. It was Christmas-card beautiful, and I was determined to get out of the house to enjoy it.
I first tried snowshoeing three years ago. That time, I took the children to one of the local nature centers and rented snowshoes for the three of us. As we were heading out on the trail, two women came in and told us about all the wildlife they had seen: squirrels, birds, wild turkeys, even a fox. I was excited to share winter in Minnesota with my children. Prior to this, their experiences with being outside in Minnesota had been limited to building snow forts, sledding, and playing outside at recess.
I wanted them to learn the joys of being in the woods in wintertime, when it is not only less buggy but incredibly peaceful. When I was in middle school and high school, I loved to cross-country ski. Some of my fondest winter memories are of gliding through woods and across fields, spying wildlife—pheasants, cardinals, hawks, even a few deer—or their tracks, and moving through a world of chiaroscuro: white snow, dark tree trunks, the shadows cast by the weak sun on branches and weeds. I especially loved the peacefulness: I might hear a snowmobile or a distant car, but mostly the woods were silent except for the calls of birds or squirrels, sap snapping in tree branches, and the sounds I made as I glided through.
We did not experience peace on the day I took the children snowshoeing. I think we scared away most of the wildlife for miles, other than a couple of brave squirrels. The children (they were 10 and 6 at the time) found it frustrating to walk with the snowshoes on their feet. Son’s boots kept coming loose from his shoes, and they both fell down several times. They spent much of the time bickering with each other and complaining to me. They thought it was boring and pointless to walk through the woods, until we came across a place where someone else had built a lean-to out of sticks. Then they wanted to play until they became cold. They removed their snowshoes and carried them the rest of the way back to the nature center.
I enjoyed it, though, so much so that my husband gave me a pair of snowshoes for Christmas 2011, the year we never had enough snow for using my snowshoes. Last year, I wore my snowshoes once, while watching the kids sledding down a hill in the neighborhood. I thought it might keep my feet warmer to stand more above the snow than down in it. (It did help.)
At any rate, I was determined to get out of the house and get some exercise today. Daughter suggested we get out of the house and see Disney’s movie, Frozen. “Why not go out and experience the snow instead?” I asked. “Why not stay warm and look at the snow on the movie screen?” she asked in turn. Son gave me a flat “no,” looking up from his new Christmas electronic gadget only long enough to add, “We tried that once, and I hated it.” Husband was busy with his own projects, so I headed out alone.
We live near enough to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum to be members. It is one of the jewels of our state, and I love to visit it, although I had visited only once in the winter before. I headed there to try out my still relatively new snowshoes and to spend some time out of the house. I thought it might be crowded, though, since the Arb always seems to be busy.
I was surprised at how few people I saw. One man was hiking the trails instead of snowshoeing. (They were packed down enough to make this possible.) I saw three cross-country skiers (the ski and snowshoe courses are separate, but some of the trails loop near each other) and perhaps two dozen snowshoers. It is possible to rent snowshoes at the Arb, but I brought my own. I do not know if they rent poles, but my husband had thoughtfully included a pair when he gave me mine. They made a world of difference. The first time we snowshoed, the wider gait was awkward and made it easy to lose one’s balance, especially when the snow shifted unexpectedly. Having poles helped me keep my balance, and it made it much easier to go up and down hills.
The poles also made it possible for me to walk fast. I’m having trouble with pain in my left shin, so I haven’t been to run for over a week. I miss the exercise and the high of a good workout. Walking doesn’t aggravate my shin as much, but I don’t get the endorphin rush, either. Struggling over the snow, up and down hills, brought on that rush—and a lot of sweat. I was glad I had dressed in lighter layers instead of my parka. I had to remove my gloves and spent most of my walk barehanded. I estimated my distance at 3 miles and was disappointed when my Fitbit read only 2.7, but it was a great workout for an hour’s walk.
Everyone I met on the trail was friendly. We said hello and wished each other a Merry Christmas, traded a few comments about the weather and the trails, and moved on. I saw a few families trekking together. One of the families included two boys about the age of my children three years ago. I was comforted to see that they were not much more interested than my kids had been. But they didn’t have poles. I wondered if they would have found it easier with poles—of course, one always has to wonder if kids will use poles appropriately.
It was a beautiful trek, through the woods of maples and basswood and the wildflower glen (one of my favorite walks at the Arb and lovely even in winter), along ravines, through an oak savannah, and skirting wetlands and ponds. I didn’t see much wildlife this time, either: a few cardinals and squirrels. I saw deer tracks in the wildflower area, though, and other tracks that were not so easy to identify in the freshly-fallen snow.
It was peaceful. With so few people out and about, most of the time the only sound I heard was my own breathing. When I would stop to catch my breath, I could distantly hear the sound of cars on Highway 5, but the snow seemed to mute even that. I thought often of Robert Frost’s, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” although it was afternoon and the snow stopped while I was walking. The rhythm of the poem seemed to match my steps.
My only regret was that I was not skiing. My legs wanted to remember the graceful kick-and-glide of skiing, to go with the feeling of my hands on the poles, although it has been many years since I have cross-country skied. I enjoyed being out, and snowshoeing gave me the opportunity, but it is still more awkward to tromp through the snow than it is to ski. And it would have been much more fun to ski down the hills than to walk.
It was a wonderful way to spend an hour on a winter’s day. I wish I could have spent longer, but I didn’t want my family to worry, and there are so many other things to do at this time of year. I hope to find the time to return tomorrow or Saturday, before the temperature falls again. I hope I can talk my family into coming with me.
If you are interested, check out the Arboretum’s website at www.arboretum.umn.edu. Snow shoes are available for rent, but you must bring your own cross-country skis. The Arboretum frequently hosts special outdoor events, even in winter, including Ar-BRR-etum! on December 31, with free admission all day to cross-country skiers and snowshoers.
