On January 22, 2020

Living the Dream: First tracks at dawn

By Merisa Sherman

It was still dark as we left the parking lot, and my beloved golden retreiver, Vespi, and I made our way toward our own little piece of heaven. As the sun ascended, so did we. It was a stunning morning, with the sky crisp and clear as it slowly turned from black to the striking pinks of the sunrise. On the open skin track, the wind was bitter cold, nipping at my behind through my pants as we skinned our way up the mountain. It wasn’t excitement that kept us moving, but the fact that I should have worn my thicker long-johns in the 17-degree weather.

Looking at the frozen icicles dripping from her mouth, I bet Vespi was wishing she had been willing to wear her little puppy booties this morning. But when we bought them for her several years ago, she had immediately gone outside and buried all four deep in the snow, never to be seen or heard from again.

So, instead of booties, she would stop and raise a paw about 10 minutes in, waiting for me to apply a protective goop if she felt the conditions warranted.

Like many skiers, she much preferred to feel the snow underneath her paws, which had been toughened during her 13 years of adventuring. And I trusted her judgement as she broke trail, leading us up the mountain.

As we ducked into the woods for the final ascent, I lost sight of my skis underneath the snow. This was going to be a gooood morning.

Vespi, powder hound.

The radar had called for no new snow last night, but I have learned the best weather report is to just look outside your window when the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. When I did, almost an entire foot of fluff had blanketed our little area of the Green Mountains. After what had felt like the longest drought, the Killington Cloud had spoken. Finally, winter had returned to us. And so Vespi and I found ourselves skinning up a mountain in the pre-dawn darkness.

Amidst the shadows of the backside, we meandered through the snow laden trees. We hugged the side of the great wide openings to preserve the powder for the next skier. As I followed Vespi, I ducked under low hanging branches that filled my hood with snow, and climbed across fallen trees that blocked our skin track. An almost eeire quiet penetrated the wilderness, marking a stark contrast to the variety of wildlife I had seen during the warm spring-like weather of the previous week. In the bitter cold of this powdery morning, however, there was not an animal track to be found. This morning’s snow would be all ours.

Coming up onto the summit, we crossed from the shadow into the light as the wind blasted us in the face and I saw Vespi’s ears blow backward. As the sun finally crested above the mountains, the snow began to glitter, showing off its champagne goodness. Vespi and I looked at each other, each of us wearing the exact same hungry expression. And then, without any notice, she bolted.  With grace and speed, she bounced her way down the trail, fluffy fresh snow flying above her head. I laughed for a minute at the golden retriever getting continuous face shots through the beautiful powder and then abruptly realized: my powder had just gotten snaked by a dog!

If you have a ski story you would like to share, please email femaleskibum@gmail.com.

Do you want to submit feedback to the editor?

Send Us An Email!

Related Posts

‘A Different Man’ exposes the masks we wear on the inside

November 20, 2024
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about “The Apprentice,” where actor Sebastian Stan had to put on the mask of an egomaniac for two hours. Here I am, a couple of weeks later, reviewing another film where Sebastian Stan has to wear a mask of sorts. This time around, the film, "A Different Man,"…

Where were you when… 

November 20, 2024
Every now and then, there is a moment in time that defines an era. Those moments are rare. When they do happen, we tend to look back saying, “Where were you when…”  Where were you when heard about the planes crashing into the Twin Towers? Where were you when Kurt Cobain died? How about John…

A boxelder for Terry

November 20, 2024
My friend Terry Gulick, who passed away earlier this year, used to tease me about my favorite yard tree. Terry did a lot of gardening jobs when he wasn’t mentoring kids, and he was amused and a little offended by what I’d allowed to grow up in my former vegetable patch. It was bad enough…

What Killington was like in 1965

November 20, 2024
Killington was in the town of Sherburne in 1965. I remember going to the Sherburne Town Meeting in March of 1966. The ski area shut down until noon as the men all attended the morning portion of the meeting. It was mainly devoted to the highway department. A lengthy debate occurred about whether the town…