So snow shoeing looks real easy—strap on the shoes over snow boots and walk in the snow. Right? That’s what I thought too. My husband Tom certainly had a good laugh as he watched me struggling to put one foot in front of the other in the deep snow in our backyard.

First of all—don’t wear a lot of clothes, because if you end up blazing a trail, you’ll immediately regret any layers besides the basics. In hindsight, I could have worn my leggings, boots and a sports bra and been comfortable, that being said, every prepared outdoor adventurer knows that wearing layers is an essential part of planning, Just be prepared to sweat puddles,  if you’re blazing a trail.

Walk as though you are taking a walk down the sidewalk—in deep mud, unless of course you’re on a packed down trail. Its essential to ignore all instructions from your bossy spouse.

“Shawn, lift your foot straight up and then carry it forward so that you don’t drag half the mountain with you.” Said my ever helpful husband. “Shut up, I’m doing the best I can.” I said. “Well, if it’s too hard for you then just follow me.” He said.

Of course his comment enraged me and I stomped and drug even more snow with each step. He still made easy headway, leagues ahead actually. We walked along the river, the water rushed by and the snow bank we were on—made a whump sound and cracked.

“Tom did you hear that and why is the snow bank cracking?” I said.

“That’s what an avalanche sounds like, but don’t worry, we’re on the flats.” He said.

I don’t ever want to hear that sound again, it really had me unnerved. If the bank collapsed, I was going for a swim—not a pleasant thought. I surreptitiously made my way back towards the house. I didn’t care if I had to drag half the field of snow with me, at least I would be safe.

Taking my snowshoes off at the house, I realized I hadn’t quite escaped danger. A drip of water caused me to look up and to my horror I was sitting under a large icicle.

Tomorrow I’m thinking about going to the gym for exercise.