On November 10, 2021

One chair, one run: Day One sliding

By Merisa Sherman

A big cheer went up from the group as we made our way through the scanners. Our passes worked — well, mostly and our motley crew of individuals placed our equipment in the racks of the gondola. Two skiers and three snowboarders, friends for the longest of times. We hadn’t planned this group. There were no phone calls made, no flurry of text messages with discussion of who could meet when and what we wanted to do. Nope, these was just the group that showed up at the right time.

By Merisa Sherman
Day One required some walking — never an easy task in ski boots.

And so we went, up the little mountain in our little box stoked on what was to come. For one of us, it was his first opening day even though he had lived here for almost 20 years. But he managed to make it this year and was super stoked to ride the white wave. We laughed and giggled in the cabin like the old friends we were, all our cares having vanished the moment we pulled in to the lot. Or stepped through the scanners. Or had that beer in the parking lot. Or that third beer in the lot. Whichever.

With no worries or cares, we unloaded, grabbing our boards from the cabin in that most familiar way — yet actually unfamiliar because we hadn’t really ridden the gondola at all last year. I threw my skis on my shoulder and began the awkward walk down the Stairway to Heaven. Two-hundred-and-something jerky steps, even with a walk mode, sometimes almost gives you whiplash you come down so hard.

We are the late crew, the 2 p.m. shift, so on our way down the stairs we get to greet old friends who are on their way out. I love this part. They are so happy and tired while we are happy and energetic. We hear the phrase “Happy winter!” passed along over and over again as we celebrate the magical art of snowmaking. Each person we recognized — and some we did not — was greeted with a loving smile and a winter blessing. To share our joy of this beautiful sport with our ski family.

Because we hadn’t gotten to do this last year. We had opened with top to bottom because of the desire to spread people out and missed this. We never saw each other. We never had this shared experience of hiking the stairway. Or this moment of togetherness where we are all trapped together on the North Ridge with nowhere else to go. This magical time when you ride the gondola to the snow. When you have to journey up the mountain to winter, it did not come to you.

It is a special breed of skier and rider that comes out for Day One, someone who is willing to walk for even the shortest run no matter how sheared off the snow may be. A good friend calls us all the “Stray Flakes” because no matter where we are or what mountain we’re from, somehow we all end up at Killington in those one-chairlift moments. Lapping the same trail over and over again, but somehow finding different experiences each run.

We are the ones who believe in the magic of winter. “We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of the dreams,” says Willy Wonka, and somewhere in that factory must have been an indoor ski area because he gets it. We need this time to acknowledge the commitment we all have to this sport, this mountain and each other. This is where we learn the unique idiosyncrasies of our friends’ turns as we watch them over and over below the chair. This is where the Killington Ski Family is born.

This moment of one run, one chair, brings all sliders together in a way that nothing else can. Bumpers, racers, seniors, park rats, the backcountry crew — your style of sliding doesn’t matter here on the North Ridge. Only your love of the sport matters in this moment.

As I throw my skis down on the snow and click into my bindings, I cannot help but smile. Tired legs mean lots of chatting, joking with old friends and meeting new ones. I cannot love this day enough. I adjust my boots, getting lost in the muscle memory of it all, and I am transformed. I become something more than myself. As my skis begin to slide down the mountain, I feel my true self bubble to the surface. I am no longer just Merisa, but I am something more, something greater than I was this morning. I am connected to the mountain. I am one with the snow. I am the Female Ski Bum. And I love to ski.

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