He pulled his wool cap down over his ears, put on his mittens,
picked up his snowshoes, and stepped out into the snow. He slipped his
boots into the snowshoe harnesses and adjusted the bindings carefully.
It was a clear, bright,
still day. The spruce and fir trees on the horizon made a green band that
separated the bright blue sky from the white, pure white earth. As Daniel
struck out across the pasture behind the house, the cold air stung his
face. It felt good. It was the perfect day for a hike.
Budbill,
David. Snowshoe Trek to Otter River. New York: The Dial Press,
1976.
Once upon a time I taught the subject of reading in school. In fact, I did for twenty-one years until our
5th grade team grew and expanded, and then we “spread the wealth” as
they say. We used to use a basal reader throughout
the year and supplemented that with high interest novels that the students
really got into; probably because we really got into them as teachers. The basal reader that I like the best came
from the Silver Burdett & Ginn Publishing Company, and was entitled Dream
Chasers. The reason I liked this
reading textbook was because each story was an excerpt or chapter from an
actual book. We worked on reading
strategies and skills such as the main idea and the author’s purpose while
building a connection. If a student
really enjoyed a story from our basal, they could then go to the library and
find the book that it came from to read in its entirety. Simply put, it was ingenious, and encouraged
the students to read books beyond our classroom environment.
One such story was Snowshoe Trek to Otter River by
David Budbill. Now I’ll admit that it
was a story that resonated with me personally, but I used that energy, spurred
on by my interest, to get the students to personally delve into the character
named Daniel. On large sheets of
construction paper we drew pictures of tracks in the snow and Daniel’s camp
beside Otter River, or whatever we thought the setting looked like in our mind’s
eye. I’d bring in my snowshoes and let
the kids walk around the classroom in them.
I even had my parents come in as guest speakers one year. My Mom read a book to the class about “Old
Man Winter,” and my Dad showed the students all of the different styles of
snowshoes (that I had grown up using).
He also explained the different names that the Native American Ojibwe tribe
had for the various kinds of snow. It
was cool, and amazingly enough, the boys and girls really liked that story. It’s no wonder why. I now own my own copy of the book Snowshoe
Trek to Otter River, and during this time of the year I try to live it out
as often as possible (just short of falling through the ice like Daniel did in that
story).
Today was one of those days I was able to live it. I think we got about 6 inches of snow last
night, and so after I shoveled the driveway and did some indoor chores, I got
my gear together to head out. That
included my Michigan style snowshoes, now outfitted with the new bindings my
parents had gotten me for Christmas about a month ago. With the crisp air and wind, the temperature
felt like zero degrees, but I was dressed for it. I loaded our dog Kora into my old Jeep and
took off on slushy roads. I was at my
destination by 11:45. I parked and then
started hiking in. Kora enjoyed running,
exploring, and then circling back to check in with me. She’s good like that.
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| Kora Excited About An Outing |
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| Setting Out The Gear |
CLICK FOR A VIDEO:
I truly hate having people know where I’m at when I’m out
and about on a solo adventure, and so because I can’t hide my snowshoe tracks
very well in the snow, I go to extreme measures. When hiking on foot, I’ve been known to walk
backwards, use a pine bough to brush away evidence, or walk along the tops of
downed logs to throw off any would be pursuers.
Today, however, I fought through thick patches of
blackberry bushes, and tangled brush before jumping and climbing (still in my
snowshoes) across a small steam. If
anyone happened upon my trail today, and decided to follow it, they were going
to have to earn it or pay dearly with shredded clothing. It’s the price you sometimes have to pay for
solitude. Plus, it’s funny in retrospect
and makes for a good story.
Unfortunately it’s also true, and those who have ventured forth with me
in the past will vouch for it. When
areas of escape are few and far between, you hold onto them as sacred and holy.
CLICK FOR A VIDEO:
Kora was great today with the chilly air. She curled up on the flannel lined blanket I
brought along as I set up our little camp; that despite the exuberant amount of
smoke that kept blowing in her face. I
actually moved the location of her blanket once I had the food cooking so it
wouldn’t be as much of a nuisance for her.
I had made the fire in a low spot to help block the wind, but because of
that, and the wood available, the smoke was thicker than usual. Kora would rise and follow me the few times I
needed to look for more wood but then she would return to her spot afterwards;
knowing food would be her reward soon enough.
We ate, and then I enjoyed a warm cup of cocoa. It was nice to take a few moments to hold
onto the cup, for when I worked with my leather mittens off, it didn’t take
long for my fingers to lose their dexterity and my hands to feel like clubs.
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| Tracks Going In And Out-From Kora And I |
On our way out we only stopped when I wanted to take
pictures or catch my breath. Today’s
hike was my “work out run” (of sorts), and all told, I traveled about four
miles. That’s not too bad considering I
was dressed as I was with a hip-pack, backpack (complete with gear and an iron
skillet), wearing snowshoes, and traveling through the terrain I previously
mentioned. I gave my hip flexors the
once over today for sure.
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| A PRAYING MANTIS EGG CASE |
Amazingly my tracks were the only tracks I saw today that
were made from a human. Kora and I had
the place virtually to ourselves. We did
see signs in the snow left by different forest critters. In fact, as we trudged along, we saw where a
deer had walked in the tracks I had made coming in; presumably while we were
cooking at the river’s edge. Also, I
usually see at least one eagle in that area this time of the year, and so I
kept my eyes peeled. I was blessed with
a glimpse of a soaring, mature adult eagle, with its white head and tail, just
after breaking out into an open prairie area.
All in all, it was a fine snowshoe trek to the river today, one that
would have made a great story for others to read.
See you along The Way…
Soon he was beyond the open fields and deep into the swamp. It was a different world, darker, quieter. The big spruce and fir trees covered up the
sky. There was no sound. It was as if this swamp were a noiseless
chamber. All Daniel could hear were his
snowshoes, whispering, hissing as he moved along. He stopped.
Listened. Now there was no sound
at all. None. It was as if everything in the world were
dead except for one boy who stood silent and alone, deep in a snowy evergreen
swamp.
Budbill,
David. Snowshoe Trek to Otter River. New York: The Dial Press,
1976.
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