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Chasing Frisbees While Snowshoeing in Stowe, Vermont
An hour into snowshoeing with Umiak, pine trees disperse into a fresh meadow blanketed in snow. White mounds roll out in every direction. “Go long!” the guide says, twirling a neon green frisbee on his forefinger. Running across white powder snow (or at least trying to), you laugh, snowshoes flapping, legs kicking out like a newborn gazelle. The disk skims the air. You surge after it, fingers stretched, but a snowshoe clips your calf and you fall flat on your face. Laughing harder, you watch the frisbee land inches from your hand. Turning over, clouds unveil a blue sky and breath comes out in mist. Frisbee forgotten, you stretch out and—why not?—make a snow angel.
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