Killington
Scarlet Leslie
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
~Ruth Stout
Ever since my youngest brother (who is now fifteen) was only one year old, my family drives six hours up to Killington, Vermont to ski. We spend three to four days there, usually through Christmas. The feeling of leaving the people I see everyday and getting away from the places I see everyday somehow makes the long trip something to look forward to each year.
As humans, we like taking breaks from our normal routine. It is one of the ways to ensure we still direct our own lives. Not only do we need to have control over ourselves, but with the mentality that we are a dominant species, we must also harness nature. The harnessing of nature is evident in all parts of the ski resort – from the bunny slope to Killington Peak.
The ski resort provides many choices and allows me to be by myself. I can ski or snowboard. I can go on green circle trails or double black diamond trails. I can take lessons or go by trial and error. I do not have to consider other peoples’ opinions or meet any assignment deadlines. Skiing is an individual sport, where I have control over what I do, and it is pretty much impossible to help anyone else.
Although we believe we can understand and control nature, it still dictates what we do. Since it is so cold in Vermont, huge coats, thick gloves, wool scarves, layers of socks, and hats restrict us. The wind and the sun can both burn us. It is also hard to ski if it rains. The snow either melts or turns to ice, making it really hard to go down steep slopes without slipping. However, we still try and make nature bend for our own purposes – for our recreation. There are various chairlifts to get to the top of slopes. Green circles, blue squares, and black diamonds mark the trails. There is even a gondola system set up, which gets skiers all the way up to Killington Peak at an elevation of 4241 ft (1293 m).
On the chairlift, I can see so many trails – the ones I usually go on and the ones no one ever dares to try. I can see the trees – the evergreens and the deciduous. They are trapped by the maze of trails, unable to escape. Skiers attending a lesson zigzag down the mountain, following the instructor like baby ducks following their mother.
Adding on to my confusion are the snowmaking machines. They actually use machines to make snow, just to allow the resort to be open longer. 57 miles (89 km) of trails are covered by snowmaking. However, it is very easy to differentiate real snow from the created snow. When it is really snowing, the flakes fall gracefully down. The delicate flecks that happen to fall on my glove all have a distinct hexagonal shape. The snow from the machines is forced out of one of 1435 snowguns sticking out of the ground. The dots are like tiny hailstones that pellet me as I pass by.
The best part of the mountain is the top – Killington Peak. Although people have even found ways to take over it, with a restaurant, it is still a beautiful sight. The jagged rocks along the side of the trail are covered in icicles in casual formations. Leaves are frozen in ice as if they are hibernating and waiting for spring to arrive. Sometimes, I am even in a cloud. The fallen snow glistens in the sunlight, as more and more flakes glide through the air. I can just sit there, completely covered in authentic snow, all by myself. I can decide if I want to start down or wait until it turns darker. It is peaceful. There are not a lot of other people. There is only the never-ending mountain, as stable as when it was first created.
