snow-shoeing by the sea / in the gaspé

There was so much snow, piled so high and thick, that any fallen tree trunks where we might have sat to rest were too deep down. Snow upon snow upon snow. This late in the season, softened in the hot spring sun, hardened again in the cold spring nights. Crusted with ice that crunched or snowman sticky.

We started out climbing the slope of a low mountain (about 800 metres?). We were underway for a little over an hour when I decided that getting to the top was a guy thing and I didn’t need to do it.