Snowshoeing is one of the best ways to explore winter. It’s a relatively inexpensive sport that doesn’t depend on a lot of sophisticated gear or a strong skill set. That’s why it’s hitting the mainstream in a big way and more and more places are offering snowshoeing trails across the Northeastern Ontario region.
Provincial Parks like Windy Lake and Killarney have dedicated trails for snowshoeing, and also have the added bonus of providing heated yurts to camp in. Samuel de Champlain and Kettle Lakes Provincial Parks also offer a great area to snowshoe. One hidden gem is Mashkinonje Provincial Park. It’s a protected nature reserve that stretches from the West Bay to the West Arm of Lake Nipissing. The area has over 30 kilometers to choose from. The Loudon Peatland Trailhead is at the park entrance located off of Highway 64, 17 kilometres south of the town of Lavigne and Musky Island Road. A great contact for information and a rout map is the Friends of Mashkinonje.
Being bowlegged has its advantages, of course. I excel at the art of the snowshoeing simply because I’m bowlegged. It’s not something I’m proud of—but my slight disability has won me a few snowshoe races in my time. One doesn’t have to be bow-legged to snowshoe but it does have its benefits. The only real issue in the sport is to choose which design of snowshoe you prefer—traditional or modern.
When dealing with traditional there’s four main categories. For walking across flat, semi-open terrain the proper style would be the Michigan or Algonquin snowshoe. It’s the most common model and is shaped like a teardrop with its tail lagging behind to track a straight line and keep the tips out of the snow.
In hilly or mountainous country, the standard bear-paw style is more commonly used. With no tail it makes walking easier. I also use the bear-paw in early Spring for walking through deep, crusty, corn snow.
The other main styles of snowshoe are the Ojibwa and the Alaskan. The Ojibwa is used for open areas, with its long length and upturned toe giving extra support and stability. The shoe’s tip is pointed, looking like the back end of the Michigan or Algonquin style, and can actually help cut through the hard crust of snow or push away small saplings when walking in dense bush. The Alaskan is quite similar, except the toe is rounded.
All these styles are made of wood and lacing. However, outdoor stores are now more opt to carry the new-age snowshoes made of light-weight plastic or anodized aluminum equipped with mini-crampon bindings. I still prefer the wooden type when it comes to deep snow. The new-age ones are a lot lighter, however, and most deal extremely well with climbing up slippery slopes.
After the binding comes the boot. Oil-tanned moccasin boots worn with one light pair and one heavy pair of wool socks work great. A winter companion of mine raves about his pair of moccasins with the upper section of the boot made of thick canvas material. He purchased them from a Native living in the far north where the snow is always dry and crisp. In wet snow, however, his feet soon become soaked and adding more oil just keeps his feet from breathing and they sweat uncontrollably.
I find a good old pair of felt-lined boots with rubber bottoms and leather tops to be adequate. Or those rubber boots with liners you can pick up cheap at Canadian Tire. They’re on the heavy side, give me blisters, and at times can be too warm to wear comfortably, but with an extra pair of interchangeable liners in my pack I haven’t lost a toe from frostbite yet.
