Lost Beneath the Flakes

The Old Steel Bridge on the Flathead River


E and I were snowshoeing through the deep snow near the Flathead River as the sun glistened brightly through the trees. Sparkling white snow set against the clear blue sky made for a beautiful day. We reached a clearing and stopped to look at the dark colored river and snowy mountains. To annoy my parents, I decided to run in the snow pretending to be a baby. Little did I know what regret this horseplay would cause.


M snowshoeing in deep snow along the Flathead River, Montana



When I fell into the snow, I lifted my legs and realized one of my snowshoes was missing. I scanned the white landscape, but the snowshoe was nowhere to be seen. In vain, I scraped the snow, searching for the shoe. Dad called E to take a video, and Mom went off to take pictures. I was left behind to search for the lost snowshoe. I dug everywhere imaginable, but to no avail. Seeing my dilemma, Dad shouted, “E, go find it for her.”

E came to help me, and the two of us feebly dug for the snowshoe. After Mom and Dad came, I began to panic as it was getting late.

“I think it’s somewhere down the trail!” said Dad. “You wouldn’t know if you had it or not!”

Woeful, I was positive that the snowshoe had been attached to my foot until the silliness began. I just couldn’t find it, and began to dig fiercely with everyone else. After digging for about 15 minutes, Dad decided to go back and get his hiking pole so we could probe through the snow. Everyone became more concerned of not finding the snowshoe. Mom seemed the most worried. She took out her cell phone, but put it back in her pocket while she paced. Her hands were frozen, although they were in her gloves. It was getting later and the sunlight began to slip away. The wind chill was seeping through my coat. After all of this time, we had not found the snowshoe. Mom dialed the cell phone to call Dad.


E’s drawing of the snowshoe adventure.


As the phone was ringing, I came across something that looked like a lens cap. After more digging, I realized that it was my snowshoe! “I found it!” I exclaimed.

“We found it,” Mom told Dad. “Should we wait for you to come back, or go down the trail and meet you?”

As I watched, I saw a shaken look come over Mom’s face. Stuttering, Mom said, “I-I-I g-guess we can.”

Mom explained that Dad had not gone the same path we had come, and that we should just follow the tracks. I took off my gloves and struggled with my snowshoe. My bare hands burned with freezing snow as I tried to snap it on. I asked Mom to help me and she took off her own gloves and snapped it closed. I thanked her, and headed on down the trail. It was not hard to follow the correct path. We silently trudged along.

Soon enough, I saw Dad standing in the middle of the trail. Exhausted, the four of us walked back to the van. Crying, snow, and worry really works up an appetite! After we got home I ate 2 pieces of jelly bread, cookies, cat food, and my dinner of baked pike.


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