Old School

So like myself, the shoes were getting a little worn and needed some TLC. This may get into a bit of a diatribe as those that have had the pleasure to ride along side of me on a Sunday know. I’m a bit old school. I may be straight, but I’m not narrow. I’m the first as an Aquarius to adopt the latest in technology when I see fit. But some times we lose site of the pleasure of the sport for the “Gear”.

Thus the ritual of the shoes. The snow shoes you see above I’ve now had for 32 years. We’ve clocked a lot of miles over a lot of terrain. One of the things that these old school shoes need is an annual touch up with a bit of sand paper on the ash and some spar varnish to keep the gut nice and waterproof. That’s modern. In the olden days, 20 years ago, it was shellac.

Now comes the argument. Lets not say argument but more like intelligent disscussion. I know that all you Multi-sport type folks, note how I use the word folks and not people, because then you get rolled in with the crazy dog/cat/horse people. Picture it, you know wild hair and waiving your hands in the air yelling, Down Duke Bad Dog…

Anyways, I digress. You Multi-Sport Folks, will be the first to say, well I have the latest moon tested tubular crabon blabla snowshoes that “I” don’t have to do anything to. And to that I say, I feel sorry for you. Why is this do you ask?

Well like all your other “Gear” if it doesn’t break or wear out, you forget about it. OR, replace it as soon as the next latest greatest next best thing comes along. Then when you get home from shoe shoeing you throw them into the corner.

To be forgotten about… not me.

As I was jazzing up my still very useful shoes and we can have looonnnggg discussions as to why mine are better than yours. I will take the two hours and two coats and then start to remember.

I’ll remember back in 1980 when me and the Jungle Hunter aka Glen Forbes were up in the hills of New Annan, doing our usual thing of follow the leader. We were going across a blueberry field on a side hill that was deep in snow and had been blowing for a few weeks up into the edge of the woods.

As I approached the edge of the woods in the lead, the Hunter said I just disappeared. What had happened was that the snow drifted up over small fir trees, about 10 feet. They held the snow up like umbrellas, but you couldn’t see them. And down I went.

I was tangled. I couldn’t reach my bindings to undo and there I was. Stuck. The Jungle Hunter had to take off his shoes, sit on one, use the other like a shovel and dig down to me. He got down deep enough to undo my bindings and free me. If he had not been there I would have died because no one was expecting me for two days.

When gear is used over and maintained, it then becomes PART of your sport. The scratches and the rubs mean something. Not something to be thrown in a corner until next time. Sport is an overall experience and the gear is a part of it not just a tool.

-B