Snowshoes on a Senior Citizen
It was January 2017. Snowmegaddon. Midvale, and it seemed the entire state, was buried in the blessed white stuff. As the flakes fell down, the worry rose up.
Day after day the pure white blessing began to accumulate. And to make it more interesting, all the metal roofs refused to let go of their loads. They grabbed hold and would not let anything slide off. Watching the neighbor’s garage go down and seeing barns collapse under the load did little to encourage that peaceful winter wonderland feeling.
A look at our own roof prompted me to order a roof snow removal tool called the “Avalanche”. It promised to cause an avalanche of snow coming off the roof, all while the operator was standing safely on the ground. Indeed the box stated: ‘Save your roof! Save your time! Save your body!’
It seemed to promise easier results than a clumsy roof rake. Directions stated that all I had to do was extend the long pole up and push the square vertical metal frame under the snow from the eves to the top. The attached long vinyl strip would follow, creating a slick runway for all that dangerous heavy snow to slide down.
What the directions did not say was how to navigate around the lawn, which was covered in over two feet of snow. Being 66 years old, and experienced somewhat in winter adventures, I decided to put on my snowshoes.
Climbing from the cleared driveway (thanks to hubby’s diligence) up onto the high snow-covered lawn proved a test of agility. It was especially hard with snowshoes. After managing that rather comical feat, I tried to navigate through the soft powdery fluff while carrying the long pole and its extended strip of shiny blue vinyl. I was doing pretty well for a ways, but balance being what it is, down I went in a heap of blue plastic, coat, mittens, boots and twisted snowshoes.
Have you ever tried to right yourself after crashing on snowshoes in deep powder? There is nothing to grab. No way to pull yourself up. No solid footing. No way to get your feet and snowshoes heading the same direction. Perhaps a younger person, or someone who is mighty fit, could simply straighten out everything and just spring up. But not me.
After making quite a scene thrashing in the powder while hubby watched, I just sat there, took off the blasted things and decided to try simply marching in my boots. Now that was also a challenge, but the avalanche finally did occur and our roof let go of its load.
Moral of the story, don’t always believe those product videos that make things look easy.
