The Team Sherpa Blog

It’s so cold outside that I’m having trouble coaxing the hardened binding of my snowshoes over my hikers. I’m wearing thick wool socks inside the Kolyma boots, and short gaiters to keep the loose snow out. I notice that ice has already formed on the collar of my jacket near my mouth- vapor from my breath has passed directly from gaseous stage to solid, forgoing the liquid state as a simple protest against the weather. But the sun is out, and even though the rays are trying to penetrate through the milky atmosphere it’s a welcomed advantage. I’m in Edmonton’s river valley, on the Victoria golf course. In the summer I’m standing on a putting green. Today it could be the Baffin Island. Overnight the wind has swept the snow in low drifts here and there and the snow has already begun to facet- what looks quite powdery is actually jagged to the touch even though it fell less than 24 hours ago. I begin to trudge, and immediately smile as I always do when I first step into deep, virgin snow on snowshoes. With these contraptions strapped to my feet I sink in only about 5 to 10 cm. Without them, I’d sink in above the knee in some places. It sort of feels like cheating, but it wasn’t me who started it- the Inuit have been putting rackets on their feet for centuries.

Its hard going today. The snow is deep and loose so for each step an equal amount of force is needed to retract the snowshoe from the shallow hole it has just created. This requires more balance; therefore a pole strike is also needed for each footstep. In about 15 minutes I feel warm enough to shed a layer, but I don’t- slowing down is a better option in these temperatures. I turn North and head towards one of the steep embankments of the river valley, attacking it at a 90 degree angle. The embankment is sloped at about 35 degrees or so. Half-way up, the base layer of icy snow has been exposed by the wind. This is always a good way for me to test a boot. When I am climbing upwards on a snow or ice covered face, I need to be able to rely on my boots to support my weight after I’ve kicked into in. The technique is the same with or without crampons- you should kick directly into a slippery face, and then allow your weight to be carried on the new toe hold. If your footwear isn’t ridged enough, the force of your weight shift cannot be relayed along the whole shank of the boot and into the hold. If your footwear isn’t heavy enough, good luck kicking in a foot hold. Wearing crampons, or snowshoes that have a crampon, as you step up onto the toehold your weight will also be distributed to the area of snow that has been compacted directly beneath the toe hold as well, adding even more support for an upwards step. But be aware- stiff soled footwear can also hinder a hiker on flat or only mildly graded terrain. Therefore, a compromise is needed. I have hiked long distances in both heavy, rigid boots as well as extremely unstructured approach type shoes. I’ve come to the conclusion that for my style of hiking I prefer a fairly flexible soled boot with enough rigidity for light mountaineering styled techniques such as the one described above. Anyways, I made it up the hill in about 10 minutes or so and decided that the new boots performed fairly well for what was expected. My calves were a bit sore, meaning that I was relying more on muscle than boot to transfer my body’s weight upwards but it is a compromise I am willing to make for the weight savings and flexability the Kolyma boots will afford me. This also means that on steeper grades other techniques such as the rest-step will be more difficult. A small caveat, and I am also quick to realize that these boots aren’t really designed for this type of hiking.

I should also note here that I had been out over an hour by this point, and my feet were no more than slightly chilled. Conditions were very dry, but none the less I feel as if my feet were warmer during this hike than they have been on other winter hikes where different footwear has been used and temperatures were not nearly so low. Or maybe I just really want these boots to work for me? To tell you the truth, it is only when I am out on the “testing” type hikes that I really notice small details like this. If you look for problems, you will usually find them. Likewise, small advantages seem like huge gains.

I marched back out of the valley about an hour later, and took one last look back. The view was stunning- deep and uniform snow covered the entire valley, and the only defining feature of the landscape other than the sleepy evergreens was a black thread of snowshoe tracks that told the story of my hike. No other foot or ski track but my own marked the valley as far as I could tell, and a warm feeling of pride slipped through me. Am I crazy to be out in weather like this; testing new footwear, snowshoeing through half a meter deep snow in -40 weather, grabbing a beautiful and unique day for my own and taking its minutes and hours to weave a small adventure? Where was everybody else?