Ain’t no party like a Patch party

I always ski on June 1st. Some years, the lifts are running, and I’m surrounded by a thousand of my closest friends and fellow ski bums, the line wrapping around the base lodge. Some of us are there for the bragging rights, others for the free t-shirt, and some time at the Umbrella Bar. There’s a lightheartedness, a genuine silliness as crazy East Coasters are willing to ski whatever our amazing grooming team can string together. It always impresses.

Other years, I’ve been surrounded by bugs and variable amounts of snow. Black flies. Put your skis on as fast as you can when you reach the snow line because black flies love standing water, and that’s what the melting snow is. Black fly central. Standing at the top of Superstar is one thing, where the breeze scares them all away. But once you start down the headwall, you gotta move.

Over the years, I’ve met so many wonderful people hiking Superstar for earned turns during May. I met Yannick and his big fluffy white dog at the top, and we became solid friends for years to come. I met Charlotte, who was sitting there as I got to the top —we were both in skirts, looked at each other, and laughed, “We should be friends,” we said at almost the same time. I even met my optometrist up there one year.

For the most part, I hike by myself. It’s a weird thing that I’ve always done, and I’m really not sure how it became such a part of my personality. To walk up a mountain in ski boots only to ski down whatever snow is left on that mountain is not quite normal. I know that. I’m currently getting ripped on the internet for my latest reel skiing on June 1. “So lame,” “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” “come out west and do some real skiing” and the penultimate: “that’s not skiing” are only a few of the comments I’ve received this week from strangers on social media.

But it is skiing. We hike up, carrying our skis or using skins, just like they did in Norway so many centuries ago. We laugh, we have fun, and we don’t care a damn about what other people think of us. I share my silly adventures to bring joy. It’s why I coach Team PomPom— to remind myself and others that skiing is supposed to be fun. Or not. The beauty of skiing that it can be what you want it to be. Even on “the Patch.”

And, oh, what a wonderful Patch. There were almost 15 of us at one point, lapping that wonderful pile of snow. And—who would have guessed it—we had 15 different ways of getting down that Patch. There were rabbit-style turns, large smooth GS turns, tele turns, and snowboard turns; a sweet jump was starting to form on the left side, and a mogul line was developing on the right.  There was someone there in borrowed gear and another who was celebrating a birthday the next day. One young lady didn’t bring her gear, but she used her raincoat as a makeshift sled instead. There were even folks who hiked up just to watch and be a part of the Patch.

But you know what we all had in common? A huge smile on our faces. You could hear cheers in support of each person’s descent, a celebration of their joy while you waited for your turn on the patch. We couldn’t take enough photos, couldn’t smile large enough. The laughter echoed throughout the canyon, and we skied until our legs gave out. It was a beautiful experience, our love of the sport and snow pulling us together. It helped that there weren’t any bugs.

Because there ain’t no party like a Patch party. The simple joy of the sport all centered around the last vestiges of winter. It’s not a refusal to let go but a realization that as long as there is snow, we go. The few times my dad joined me on Superstar, he probably skied more grass than snow while yelling, “Leave no Patch unskied!” He loved shuffling through the grass to get back up to a patch uphill of him.

If you came to skiing as a child, you know the joy it can bring. And that’s what I’m afraid to let go of. Not winter, not skiing, but that childlike joy. It came from skiing, as if I were on a playground, using playfulness to spark creativity and taking a much-needed mental health break from all the seriousness around us. Even if you don’t or can’t ski, snowboard or tele, I recommend a hike up to the canyon anyways, go sit on the downdraft jumping rock and just take it all in because life is sooo much better when it’s lived in the mountains.

Merisa Sherman is a longtime Killington resident, global real estate advisor, municipal official, and Coach PomPom. She can be found on socials @femaleskibum or [email protected].