It feels like we waited forever, but now I can barely remember the time before the mountain opened. We stared at the weather report for weeks, trying to figure out when the wet bulb would match the requirements for the guns to turn on. It felt like Mother Nature had abandoned us, the Killington faithful, to the realm of the other ski areas. Like she was no longer going to bless us with an early ski season — especially when we already knew we would get cut short at the spring end.
It wasn’t cold. It hadn’t snowed. What could we possibly have done to make Mother Nature so angry at us? She couldn’t be angry that we had purchased 500 new tower guns or four new fan guns. She couldn’t be angry that some long-time second homeowners had stolen the mountain away from the evil corporate monsters. We, the Killington faithful, still loved and worshipped her. So why had she forsaken us?
But now the mountain is open, and I barely remember feeling so despondent. We’ve been heading up to meet the Two O’Clock Club every day, skiing until patrol pulls the rope across to mark the end of the day and diligently making our way up the walkway without complaint. In fact, we are grateful for the walkway’s maintenance. The repair and replacement of the mats have not gone unnoticed, and the gravel across the catwalk has made a remarkable difference.
Perhaps we will start to see more of these little changes over the next year. Have you noticed the carpets at the bottom of the lift instead of the plastic STOP pieces? They feel awesome underneath my skis and will definitely help on those slippery days.
Those are little things that will go a long way to helping everyone have a better time.
And can we talk about how Great Northern was open from the top? How awesome was that? Nothing is worse than watching greedy and selfish folks shove older and slower folks out of their way as they race down the staircase first thing in the morning. It is obnoxious and hurtful and has no place on our mountain. With the Great Northern open, everyone can ski at their own pace, enjoying the lower-angle terrain momentarily, soaking in the view as you float around the goat turn.
I love that moment. As you swing around, the mountains roll out before you, and the view becomes encompassing. Until that moment, you haven’t really made it onto the mountain, but then “bam,” there it all is. You are in it. You are floating, and now the sliding really begins. You have a chance to notice the mountains surrounding you, and then as you approach the FIS/GN intersection, you swing your head back into focus and send it around until you get to Double Dipper, and you can glance about again.
I love that moment when the Glades Triple (or North Ridge Quad, whatever) comes into view. You can see Pico in the distance, the snow underneath, and later in the day, stripes of color above and below. It’s a moment. The white below and the blue above, with a brownish-green in the middle, remind us that the snow is only painted, and everywhere else in Vermont, it is hunting season.
But I love that it’s winter up here and nowhere else. You take a gondola ride from autumn into winter. A ride to a magical land where everyone smiles and slides around like children, where the real world fades away. A magical place where there seems to be no consequences or law. Our very own Pleasure Island.
Is the mountain Pleasure Island? Will we all be turned into donkeys, foolish, selfish creatures who end up with nothing but our greed and ignorance? I have seen it happen. Just look at the walkway on opening day. As the season starts and we all fall back into our obsession with the mountain, I remember a quote shared with me by a ski sister decades ago: “In winter, it’s easy to give up on everything, everything I’ve planned, everything I’ve accomplished, everything I believe.”
And that’s one of the many reasons that I ski in the afternoon. I start my day in the gym and then at my desk, review my planner, and ensure that everything that needs to be done happens.
For myself, for my clients, and my home. Only once my chores are done do I risk taking an hour or two out on the mountain to play and reconnect with nature. Because as soon as my car turns into that parking lot, it’s wintertime. All I want to do is turn left and right as I slide down the mountain with a smile on my face. So I better be ready.
Merisa J. Sherman is a long-time Killington resident, global real estate advisor, and coach PomPom. She can be reached at Merisa.Sherman@SothebysRealty.com.
