I've skied for over 30 years but skipped it this winter to try snowshoeing instead. Here are 5 things that surprised me.

I've skied for as long as I can remember.

My dad taught me, my brother, and my sister to ski when we were all young kids.

From our home base in Connecticut, we'd road trip up to Vermont each winter where he taught us how to ski by positioning us in "pizza" between his legs, with his ski pole held horizontally in front for something to grab onto if we fell.

That was it. We never had formal lessons, and while I'm not sure that's the method most instructors use these days, it stuck. Skiing became an annual activity for us each winter, my sole sport of choice in high school, and a favorite hobby I've carried into adulthood.

I was excited for a trip to Park City, Utah, this winter, but was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to ski there due to a health concern.

At the start of the new year, my husband and I planned a getaway to Utah.

I had a Delta companion fare that was about to expire, and Salt Lake City was the only convenient direct flight from our home airport near Palm Springs, California. We left our two-year-old with my parents and planned a cozy winter getaway to the Park City area, which I had only ever visited for the Sundance Film Festival for work, and always wanted to return to.

Since it was a rare trip sans child, we stayed at the St. Regis Deer Valley just outside Park City so we could explore the city with ease, but also pamper ourselves with a little luxury. 

It was recommended to me that I not ski on this trip due to a health concern, so I went on the trip knowing I'd have to skip the slopes. But it wasn't until we arrived and I watched people ski in and out of our hotel directly, or enter the lobby still clomping around in ski boots, that the envy set in. 

"What was I thinking," I wondered, coming to one of the most renowned places in the world for skiing, only to sit it out?

Determined to get out into the snow in a safe way, I decided to try snowshoeing.

My sister was a fan of snowshoeing when she previously lived in Utah and recommended it to me, and my hotel advertised it on a sign in the lobby as a low-impact winter activity for all levels that's a lot like hiking in the snow.

Intrigued, I started to research it more. I learned it's considered a low-impact aerobic exercise, and the showshoes prevent you from sinking into the snow by spreading your weight over a greater surface area. There are various types, too, from those designed for use on flat terrain to those intended for backcountry and hilly trails.

When I expressed interest to a local friend, she offered to stop by the hotel to show us how to do it with her gear. I was excited to give it a go, but not sure at all what to expect.

After an hour-long trek on a nearby trail, I was hooked. Here are the surprising things I learned that guarantee I'll be making it a new part of my annual winter activities. 

I didn't need any fancy gear or clothes to snowshoe, as I do to ski.

Deciding to snowshoe was a bit of a last-minute decision, and since I didn't plan to ski on this trip, I didn't have any of my gear.

So, I layered a pair of regular leggings with fleece-lined ones that I wore with a thick sweater, my heavy winter coat, gloves, and a pair of sturdy hiking boots. 

When I ski, I can't wing it like that. I need thermal underwear, multiple layers, waterproof ski pants and gloves, a hat, heat packs for my hands and feet, and goggles, in addition to the required ski boots, skis, poles, and helmet. 

For snowshoeing, though, the low-maintenance approach worked for me because we were only outside trekking for an hour, rather than spending a whole day on the mountain skiing. It was a sunny, 30-degree Fahrenheit day, and my outfit felt quite comfortable. Next time, though, I would wear waterproof snow pants to prevent the snow from creeping into my boots.

Not needing as much gear made snowshoeing seem much more attainable to me as a fun, casual activity to do, as opposed to skiing, which has always been quite an investment in resources.

I was surprised that snowshoeing was easy right away, with no experience needed.

We decided to try out our snowshoes on a trail located a short walk from the hotel that was recommended by the concierge.

On the road next to the trailhead, I strapped my hiking boots into the shoes by securing them under a few straps, grabbed onto two ski poles that I would use for support, and that was it. 

The hardest part was climbing over an embankment of snow to get to the start of the trail.

The snow around the trail appeared to me to be around 5 feet high, but the trail was already well-padded from other snowshoers, and once I got used to the clunky footwear, I thought it felt just like a leisurely walk atop the snow.

The snow poles helped me keep my balance and after a few minutes, I had the hang of it and maintained a good pace while taking in the gorgeous scenery.

Even though it just felt like taking a walk, it was a surprisingly good workout.

I was enjoying my snowshoe walk so much, that for the most part, it never felt like exercise, even though it's a great way to improve fitness. That's one thing I love about skiing too, that it's so much fun for me it doesn't feel like work, and I was glad to experience the same in snowshoeing.

My legs felt well-supported in the shoes, and the trail was flat, so no serious exertion was required. 

With that said, I did feel like my heart rate was up, similar to taking a fast-paced power walk. Using the poles also made it an upper body workout, and by the end, my shoulders were tired from lifting them up and down through the snow.

While we kept to a flat trail, I saw another snowshoer on a route leading up a steep hill, and my friend told me that some people even go for runs in snowshoes. 

The next day, I woke up with tired legs and sore arms that confirmed to me that I had indeed completed a challenging workout — just one that didn't seem like it at the time.

I loved my time snowshoeing and it only took an hour. I still had my whole day free for other activities.

When I ski, it's an all-day activity and I often don't have time for anything else.

But after an hour on the trail, my snowshoe adventure was complete. Because I enjoyed it so much, I looked into booking another excursion, and discovered that many local companies offered trips ranging from two hours to half or full days.

Because we were just visiting for a weekend, and it was such short notice, we weren't able to book another snowshoe day, but I thought the tour options I saw online were a good alternative to spending an entire day on the slopes, and losing out on exploring town or relaxing.

Since we had time left after snowshoeing, we were able to enjoy après-ski drinks, indulge in a spa treatment, and go into Park City for a meal over the weekend.

In the past when I've skied, I've done it for the entire day and by the end, have been too exhausted to do anything else. 

I realized that snowshoeing is so much cheaper than skiing. I would have spent a lot more money if I skied.

While a friend shared her personal gear with us, had my husband and I signed up for a local snowshoe excursion or rented equipment, we still would spent far less than if we skied.

For example, on the Marriott Bonvoy app I used while staying at the St. Regis, a two-hour snowshoe day trip that included rentals, transfers, and water was listed at $115 per person, so it would have cost $230 for the both of us, plus tip.

I also would have considered another local tour, recommended to me by the concierge, that charged $195 for the first person and $85 for the second on a three-hour snowshoe trek that included snowshoes, poles, water, and a snack, for a total of $280 plus tip.

Or, I could have just rented gear for the two of us in town if we wanted to stick to the trail next to the hotel, or take a rideshare to another trail, and do it on our own. That would have cost just $22 each for an entire day.

And if I really wanted to commit, purchasing snowshoes ranges from $140 to $220, according to Insider Reviews.

That's all a fraction of what we would have paid to ski Deer Valley next to our hotel. 

At Jans Ski Shop at St. Regis Deer Valley, a basic rental package of skis, poles, and boots at the on-site shop costs $64 for one day. A helmet is an additional $15. That's not so bad, but a one-day lift ticket at Deer Valley starts at $229 in the month of January, when we traveled.

So while we could have paid as little as $44 or as much as $280 for two of us to snowshoe for one day, skiing for the same time period would have cost us at least $616. Do it more than once on a weekend, and that's a huge difference.

While I look forward to getting back on skis soon, I also can't wait to snowshoe again.

I don't plan to give up skiing forever, and look forward to returning to Utah soon to hit the slopes.

But when I do, I'll definitely reserve a day of my trip to swap skis for snowshoes. I can't wait.