Comfort and joy

It was a bright, sunny day, and we immediately felt the freedom snowshoes allow. We could follow icy trails or bushwhack over sloping terrain we would not have attempted in hiking shoes or boots. We puzzled at tracks left by other creatures - deer? raccoons? foxes? - and enjoyed ambling through pristine meadows and woods, searching for the geocaches. Walking in snowshoes seemed surprisingly natural. They were easy to maneuver, even in slick areas.

In the end, we could not find either cache. We did get within a few feet of where they were stashed, several yards off the regular trails. One was somewhere on a lovely promontory that looked out over the reservoir. The other was hidden in a glen by a pleasant little waterfall.

Some people say the best thing about skiing is après-ski, relaxing by a roaring fire. I liked snowshoeing, but not as much as the hot chocolate the inn's chef, Jason Tostrup, fixed for us afterward. And our dinner that night - several little courses highlighting local ingredients and what he called "the flavor of the area" - is among my most memorable meals.

I never got mal de raquette. I enjoyed snowshoeing and would try it again, although I can't say I was wowed by it. But I was wowed by this fabulous inn, and snowshoeing is what led me to it.

Judith Gaines, a freelance writer in Maine, can be reached at gaines.judith@gmail.com.