“How much longer until we get to where you are taking me?” I hear the voice reach out from behind me. We’d been skinning (or climbing uphill with our skis on) for about an hour when my ski sister finally decided to ask where we were going. We had started with some work road and were now deep into the forest, switchbacking repeatedly as we headed toward what she could see was perhaps nothing.
I had waited for her question, as it comes every Sunday as we head up for a tour through the backcountry. It’s the only time we get to spend time together, and the best way to guarantee that we are not interrupted by some outside source is by hiding in the woods. We tried a coffee date once—we both ended up with our phones out and our faces filled with blue light. Neither of us had the energy for the forest, but we didn’t get replenished either. So, the next week, we were back in the woods.
We also tried lift service. We would chat on the chairlift, but oftentimes we would forget the very important topic from the last ride and be unable to finish. Or there would be other people on the lift who didn’t really need to hear about our mental health struggles—or worse, the perimenopausal ones. I hate being a grownup sometimes.
Nope, those discussions are best worked out on the skin track. There is something about the repetitive motion combined with forest-bathing that seems to make solutions embrace us. I feel smarter in the woods, more focused, and more connected with my body and with nature. I study the topography beforehand, so I have a general idea of where we are going, but as my Sunday compatriot likes to say, “We aren’t lost, but we don’t quite know where we are.”
And if that isn’t a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is. Meandering through the woods and trying to find meaning and solutions is the best weekly therapy that I know of. In this particular case, we were searching for the most beautiful woods we had ever seen. Because we can go downhill and fly by the forest anytime. That’s what lift service skiing is for. And don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love floating down the mountain after dancing with Jay & Omar at the bottom of the Bubble.
But I love a good skin track. And this one is my favorite. I’ve been working on it for years. I finally figured out the best Turning Tree in this one section, and I got spun around for a while. And then this second section got hit by a bunch of blowdowns a few years ago, and it’s been tricky finding a way through that didn’t involve climbing on a bunch of fallen branches. Not the best when you’re quite a ways out from medical support.
We’re both trained. I was a Wilderness First Responder in my youth, and she was an EMT. We’re both retired from emergency medical services, but we’re still reading the books and keeping up on our rescue skills. As I told the Team PomPom athletes – you’re not ready to go in the woods without a grownup until you’ve read all the books and done all the things. And since they cannot read yet…
Yes, I take the kids into the “backcountry.” We find low-angle woods that we can shuffle through. We work on taking care of our buddy and staying with the group. Our ski control also becomes essential as we maneuver over fallen logs and duck under heavily snow-laden branches. The goal for them is (a) teamwork, (b) training their skis to be a part of them through flat skill work, and (c) teaching them the beauty of the forest. My greatest hope is that whatever type of skier they become, they will always be willing to stop and appreciate the nature of the mountains.
That they can spot the light glowing through the trees and have to pause at the grandeur of it all, that they will notice the thickness of the rime and not just be inclined to whack the tree branches off, that they learn to respect nature, not just ski by it, and most important, that on a powder day, they want to head off into the woods rather than lap the course.
We ski down to the bottom, stopping several times as we go just to catch our breath and enjoy the descent. Oh yeah, and rest our legs from the hours of ascending. But one thing never changes—we always end our tours with a hug—a hug full of gratefulness and gratitude for the beautiful adventure, the rejuvenation of our souls, and our lifelong friendship. Hopefully, we’ll be skiing together for the next 35 years.
Merisa is a longtime Killington resident, global real estate advisor, and Coach PomPom. Share your ski stories at Merisa.Sherman@SothebysRealty.com.
