Handmade Iverson Snowshoes Stage a Comeback

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In the 1830s, the Ojibwe villages and missions of Upper Michigan were frequented by a unique personality, one Bishop Frederic Baraga. He traveled during winter by snowshoe, becoming known as “the Snowshoe Priest.”

His shoes were handmade, Native American-style, of green wood bent over the thigh to take the shape of a snowshoe frame. The tail ends were tied together with rawhide from moose or deer.

Fast forward a century to another unique Upper Peninsula personality linked to snowshoes. Clarence Iverson lived within easy reach of Baraga’s wanderings, in the unincorporated village of Shingleton. He was a corrections officer at a trustees’ camp for prisoners. Some of the trustees made snowshoes to make it easier to walk in deep snow by “floating” on it. Clarence oversaw the lacing of the snowshoes. He also had a vision.

Today, a flashing yellow light on the highway and Robinson’s General Store signal downtown Shingleton. Wild blueberries run rampant in late summer and fall. Then comes hunting season and the village closes down as residents head for the woods. In winter, strategically placed poles along the highway alert plows to road shoulders hidden under heavy annual snowfall. Durable aprons along the highway indicate snowmobile crossings. And Iverson Snowshoes and Furniture – perhaps the U.S.’s only wooden snowshoe “factory” – is now nationally and internationally known.

It all began in the mid-20th century when Clarence Iverson made and sold snowshoes in his spare time. When he retired, things got busier. His reputation – and his snowshoe business – spread. He fashioned shoes for use by Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources, local foresters and loggers. He used prisoners from the local camp to lace the shoes, used U.P. ash for the wood and full-grain cattle rawhide for lacing.

In the late 1980s, Clarence sold the business to Robert and Anita Hulse. They tested innovations and built the business up to where 16 employees created 15,000 snowshoes annually, adding power company workers, park service employees, backpackers and hikers to their customer base. Plus, because of their natural beauty, many snowshoes became wall decorations.

After Robert died, Anita kept the business going, but gave it up in 2004. The business struggled and the operation closed in 2006.

Enter Bob Graves, a logger by trade and a local resident. “I was a little boy who rode my bike through Iverson’s factory yard in the early years of its production.” Following his inner urgings, Bob and his wife, Linda, bought the company in 2007.

They hired back Ken and Julie Holmes, husband and wife and best friends seldom seen apart. The couple brought 20 years of experience, work as a machine-like team, and are as down to earth as the ash logs that sit outside the factory doors. The Holmes’ daughter, Kenda Rae, also became part of the staff.

Handmaking snowshoes is a two-day process. It starts with boards from ash logs sawn so that the wood grains create maximum frame strength. These boards are further cut into strips, soaked in a water vat and then placed in a steamer for four hours. The steam-heated sticks become pliable and are then bent over a frame former in a shoe shape. The frame is then braced and placed in a dry kiln overnight. In the meantime, rawhide and neoprene are cut into lacing strips, and sheets of leather are formed into bindings. Holes are drilled along the sides of the dried frames, which are then ready to be laced.

“I’ve been doing this for 20 years now and can lace with my eyes closed,” Julie jokes.

After the shoes are laced, they are placed in a vat of preservative lacquer and hung to dry. Once dry, they are ready for bindings and the stamped logo: Iverson – Seek Wilderness.

Bob knows the product of his company very well. He used Iverson Snowshoes as a kid and also later as a logger, when he marked section lines during the winter months.

He has created a remarkable EZ binding and other innovations. “I’m gonna start calling the snowshoes ‘Jesus Shoes’ because you can almost walk on water with them,” he teases.

Iverson uses traditional rawhide and the newer Neoprene and Kevlar for lacings. Snow doesn’t cling to the Neoprene, and the expensive Kevlar reduces the weight of an average shoe from 4½ pounds to 3 pounds.

Iverson has also added a number of products inspired by the snowshoe design, including rockers, loveseats, magazine racks, log holders, end tables and fishing nets.

Do-it-yourself kits with frames, lacing and instructions are available. Ludington and Hartwick Pines state parks staff members have developed snowshoe-making workshops using Iverson frames and lacings.

“It takes seven hours for people to weave their shoes, but they are so proud of themselves when they finish,” says Theresa Neal of Tahquamenon Falls State Park.

Iverson Snowshoes come in 17 varieties designed for looks, comfort and weight distribution to fit children to adult. They cost $135 to $415 without bindings. Leather bindings run from $40 to $81.

Women are among the fastest growing segment of snowshoe users, says Hank St. Amour, the company’s sales representative. “They get into racing, they get into extra activities, a lot of them like the physical fitness aspect of it.” Narrower snowshoes make it easier for women to maneuver in them.

Last year the slow economy and warmer-than-average winter shut the operation down for a time. It re-opened September 2011 and once again is shipping snowshoes around the world to Russia, Sweden, Finland, Germany, Switzerland, and even Australia. Sales are also strong regionally and in Alaska and Canada.

Gregg Bruff, chief of Heritage Education at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, is one of the park instructors offering snowshoe classes for area schoolkids.

“Kids love it,” Gregg says. “For most, it is a first-time experience.”

The park bought 40 pairs of Iverson snowshoes in 1992 and the shoes have held up well.

“My wife, Vicki, and I and our three daughters used Iverson’s Snowshoes to harvest maple syrup on our land,” Gregg says. “The girls are grown up now but still have fond memories of those times.”

Outdoor writer Jerry Harpt lives in Wallace, Michigan, and spends much of his time enjoying all the U.P. offers.