New Shoes
By Corrine Hathaway
Snowshoeing? How hard could it be? Our group of seven crossed the road to the trailhead--just seventeen miles outside of Ketchum, ID--at 10:30 p.m. ready for a relaxing weekend at the Boulder Yurts. It was my perfect winter scenario--I had a PBR tall boy in hand and was surrounded by mountains. I was ready for what was described as a "mellow, one and a half mile hike."
Just two minutes in and I was gasping like a seventy-five year old chain smoker on her way to the mailbox. I had been working out regularly, and I had hiked seven miles at high elevation easily in the past. Why did I feel as though my heart would implode at any second? Focus elsewhere.
The leader of our group was so far ahead of me that I couldn’t make out his headlamp. I was thankful for the clear trail as I trudged along. I kept telling myself that we must be close--the sign had said so! But then there was another hill I had to lumber up only to round another corner and traipse back down. It was at the foot of one of these ascents when finally I had to stop and catch my breath.
This time I took the hill knowing that there would indubitably be another incline after this one. Suddenly out of the cluster of trees ahead I heard whooping and laughing. We were close enough to hear the rest of our group who had hiked in earlier. This one really was the last hill! It was the fastest I’d moved all night. I ascended that final dune and once at the top, I was finally able to enjoy my tall boy--which had gone flat during the climb, but at least it was cold!
