You could feel the air changing. Even inside the house, I knew that this morning would be different. The air was just that much thinner and my hands were cold as they lay outside my blanket. I could actually feel my fingers stiffening up and had to pull them back inside when I woke up for a moment.
But not before I checked the webcam. Yep, I rolled over at 3 a.m. on Halloween morning and knew this was the day. I mean, obviously I have been checking the weather report on a daily basis waiting for the first snowfall or even the first frost. I had been thinking that it was going to happen overnight on Monday but I guess there was just too much moisture in the air for the right wet bulbs.
Around 5 a.m. I rolled over again and was comforted to see that the snowmakers had produced a bunch more snow over the past two hours and the top of the Glades was looking sufficiently white. The pine trees between Rime and Upper East Glade were covered in white, looking for all the world like it had snowed last night but then you could see the clear snow line down the skier’s left. Without the noise of the guns, it was a beautiful sight to behold.
I stayed awake for a while watching the large number of headlamps wandering around on Lower Superstar. At first there was only one large clump and then it broke off into smaller groups making their way to their assigned tasks. It was like stealing a magical moment, watching these brave souls work through the night.
The resort webcams have always confused me. I know lots of folks who have the camera open on their desk at all times, always pushing for a moment during their busy day to see what’s going on off the summit or on the North Ridge. That must be torture, I always thought, to be stuck at work while watching others ski.
But yet here I was, nestled in bed at 5 a.m. watching the guns. You couldn’t see much off the peak cam because the sun hadn’t yet risen. But, more likely, I couldn’t figure out how to get that camera to work while still half asleep.
Before webcams, I would have gotten out of bed and hiked up the 2 miles to see the guns for myself. I would have heard the roar of the guns get louder and louder the closer I got to the North Ridge. I would have had my skis on my backpack and risked everything to make those first turns of the season. My knees, my skis and even my pass as I skied the super sketchy and thick, heavy mung that shoots out of the guns during those first few hours. The crew lay it on thick and wet, hoping to weigh down the grass so it folds over instead of sticking straight up through the snow. But it’s not solid. One wrong step and you can go up to your thigh.
Preseason skiing is extremely dangerous. When I was in my 20s I was invincible and in my 30s I was too stubborn to admit to the stupidity of making those pre-season turns. Because I couldn’t wait. I had to be the first. I love watching the manmade snow shoot up into the hot pink line over the horizon as the sun comes up. There’s nothing quite like a snowgun at sunrise, especially with a little hoar frost thrown in.
So now it is time for those ski season resolutions. How many days do you plan on skiing? What percentage of those days will be at Killington vs using your Ikon pass to travel around the world? What percentage of those days will be earned turns rather than just riding the lift? Will you add some nordic or backcountry days to your count this year or make it a point to ski every single trail? What kind of skier will you be this winter? What kind of commitment are you willing to make to the mountain, to the snow, to yourself?
I’ve been focusing on safety and longevity over the past five years. Maybe it’s time to put an end to all of that and try to do a few stupid things again. Maybe this is the year that I finally let my skis leave the ground or go back to making those preseason turns. Who knows what opening day will bring, but one thing is for sure — I hope to see you all on the mountain whenever they decide to let us up. Wishing all you more days on snow this year than the last!
Merisa Sherman is a long time Killington resident. She can be reached at femaleskibum@gmail.com.
By Merisa Sherman
A snowgun aims at Launchpad crosssing over Superstar at sunrise a few years back.
