This past weekend, my husband and I traveled to a never before experienced destination. We have always enjoyed summer visits to the Adirondack Mountains but it was not until a few years ago that we discovered their unparalleled and unique silent beauty in winter.
It had been many moons since I had hit the ski slopes, due to a knee injury suffered in my youth. So, about six years ago when our youngest adult son shared with us his discovery of snowshoeing, I was inspired! Just maybe this was something I could do! Not on the high peaks like him, but as a baby beginner on flatlands.
My husband thought so too, and soon after surprised me with a beautiful pair of aluminum snow shoes and a set for himself as well! On went the knee wraps and the triple-layered clothing. Off we went into the world of discovering the marvels of winter snowshoeing.
Even my own backyard became a magical wonderland. I was like a little child seeing everything for the first time. The trees took on a charming royalty, like guards standing on the perimeter of the forest. The winter sun watched over me as light snowflakes flitted around me, decorating my path. I moved one leg forward, then the other. The poles I held in each hand helped me maneuver into a rhythmical pace and I was on my way. This was doable. This was wonderful.
Soon we discovered local parks as if for the first time as we made new tracks through the local forest trails. Everything looked different, felt different under a fresh covering of pure snow. Something was exhilarating and creative about making fresh tracks where there was never any before. That was the beginning. I was captivated.
We made our first winter trip to the Lake Placid area and were introduced to a place called John Brown’s Farm just outside the village and near to high Mt. Van Hoevenberg, site of the Olympic ski jumping events of past years. Trails were relatively flat and easy to navigate but there were ruts from cross country skiers who had been there before us. Still, we found our rhythm gliding through the woods which were lit up by lanterns hanging from the snow-covered evergreen boughs and upper tree trunks. The quiet arrested me. It was all encompassing. The air was pure, cool and refreshing. The pine aroma was intoxicating. Why hadn’t we discovered this sooner? I breathed in this new reality and it traveled deep down into the roots of my soul.
In following years we discovered the Cascade Cross country Skiing facility and were thrilled to learn that it too had numerous snowshoeing trails at the base of that mountain. Their paths were well-worn but enjoyed nevertheless by us with childlike hearts.
So, this past weekend we arrived in snowy Wilmington near to the base of Whiteface Mountain. Cadence Lodge welcomed us with rustic charm in the little village so far North. My husband had seen on a map a snowshoeing trail at a place called The Flume whose water tumbled into the Ausable River. We had been by this locale in Summer but never in Winter.
At first, it seemed a little foreboding. The weather forecast was predicted to be cold, even subzero. What were we thinking? Had we overstepped our realistic capabilities. After all, we were not growing any younger. No, we had not come all this way just to enjoy food in newly discovered ADK restaurants. We hunkered down for the night and hibernated until morning in our little lodge room.
Morning light came and with it, a fresh coat of snow. After a hearty ADK breakfast, we began the ritual of donning three layers of Winter clothing. Included were special socks, boots and warming packets to be placed inside thermal mittens and gloves. After sufficient arctic protection was placed, we made our way toward the Flume.
After a series of tortuous twists and turns on the mountain road, we arrived. The scene was before us in a pristine covering of sparkling snow beneath a sudden appearance of mid-morning sun peeking out from behind a frozen cloud.
We endured the manifold calisthenics of bending down to connect the multiple fastenings of the snowshoes onto our boots. Such a feat with cold hands is not easily managed but soon the satisfying sounds of secured clasps and buckles gave us permission to proceed with the adventure.
Some brown trail signs with the characteristic yellow lettering pointed the way to several paths. We chose the one that paralleled the river and slowly, methodically began our trek.
No other tracks appeared! Ours were the very first. White and undisturbed, like a newly created Winter garden of wonder,…it was ours to experience. The simplicity of it halted me. I wanted to be present in the moment and take it all in.
My husband proceeded a ways ahead of me. I listened to the cascading, crisp winter waterfalls tumbling down the flume to crash into the swiftly moving, partially frozen river. I could see it from where I was as I found my rhythm and moved onto the crisp trail.
It led me down a gradual descent where I discovered a breathtaking view of a snow covered mountainous expanse in the distance. Here was a Winter Paradise that we were discovering for the very first time as we made fresh tracks. It was like no one else was around. The silence was deafening and magnificent. Soon a few other Winter hikers appeared and we shared the newly found wonder. They took our picture so we could document our dream.
The trail then led up a gradual incline and curled into the quiet woods. We proceeded methodically, rhythmically. Again, no other snowshoe tracks appeared. Our were the first! Something new was being created for the first time! I felt like I was being newly created too!
We arrived at the top where there was a crossroads. We stopped. I breathed in the quietude, took in the soul restoration, felt such gratitude to creation and the Creator. There was nothing like this. Oh to capture it, to savor it, to remember it always in the scrapbook of my memory’s imagination.
We made our way slowly back down the hill and bid adieu to the river and her waterfalls. Something was enlarged and more alive inside of me. Nature and I had a new connection, a new charm on my life experience bracelet. Something existed that had not been there before. Strange as it seemed, Winter had become my new companion.
Hours after we arrived back at the lodge and days after we arrived home, I still mused on that snowy ADK day of discovery. Making fresh tracks in the snow. What was there about that? A creation the snow and I had made together. Something forged to show I was there. Something so other that I do not know if anyone else would understand… until I told my son, the one who inspired me to snowshoe, about our trip.
He listened to my story and description of our day. He then asked me a question,” Mom, did you get to make fresh tracks?” “Yes,” I said, and waited. Then he added in a final, simple yet glorious response, ” Good, Mom. That’s my favorite part.”
