vermont – Page 4 – Sidecountry Living

The Other Thing: On Adventuring Alone

May 28, 2013June 2, 2013 eamillikin4 Comments

This is the other thing I wanted to talk about. But first, I’ll start with a kind of a disclaimer. To quote Haruki Murakami: “I’m the type of person who doesn’t find it painful to be alone.” This has been true forever. I enjoy the company of others, sure, but I need a certain amount of alone time to feel rested and complete.

For years, however, I was under the impression that this need for solitude was ‘antisocial’ and therefore bad or wrong. I worked very hard to suppress this drive for solitude, which meant that several years were more difficult than they had to be. Not in the sense that I was picked on or otherwise mistreated. Simply in the sense that I was more tired more often than I needed to be. Constant social fatigue wore away at my self-confidence, spilling over from the social sphere and into my adventure sphere. Fear of going out and doing something by myself (and fear of somehow failing or running into trouble in the woods alone) meant that I didn’t get out into the wild anywhere near as much as I wanted and needed.

It’s taken several more years now of practicing doing things alone again, but I’m finding joy in the rehearsal. It started small with going to cafés to work or quietly sip tea. Then, a few bars. (I love reading in bars. I don’t do it often because interruptions annoy me, but bar-reading is great.) Or the beach. Or driving to the resort alone to link a few turns in the lift-served playground. These places are as pleasant and enjoyable by yourself as they are when in a group.

And then there was yesterday – earning my turns in calm, satisfied solitude. The peace of walking upwards and the exhilarating joy of sliding back down again.

Of course, there were other people out enjoying the day – hikers with their children or dogs, other riders in small groups. We flashed smiles to one another and commented on the weather, but for the most part I was by myself. Then, when I finally arrived home, I hopped on my bicycle to ride to the beach and lay stretched out on a towel writing the rough draft of these two blog posts. Eventually, I headed back into town to join friends for dinner, drinks, and laughter.

This perfect day was all due to the realization that yeah, I got this. I woke up Monday morning with the confidence in myself, my gear, and my ingenuity to get up and have an adventure doing what I love. If I got hurt on the mountain, I had a plan. If I locked myself out of my car, I didn’t have a plan, but I’m sure I would have figured something out.

Maybe this is just a small thing, but like icebergs, even small-seeming things can be quite large.

Just as earning your turns lets you experience both the Uphill and the Downhill, so too does following what you love give you the opportunity to be both Together and Alone. There’s nothing quite like stopping halfway through a powder run to trade high-fives with your friends, but there’s also nothing quite like savoring a mountain that is yours and yours alone.

This is what I wish I learned years ago: whether you’re in the middle of a crowd or standing all alone, just keep doing what you love. Everything else will fall into rhythm.

You got this.

Go have an adventure.

Uphill People, Downhill People

May 27, 2013June 10, 2013 eamillikin1 Comment

For many, Memorial Day is the unofficial start of summer. Families roll out barbecue grills. Co-eds drink beer in folding lawn chairs.

Pro Tip: Always match your beer can to your ski graphics. — Pro Tip: Always match your beer can to your graphics.

Today, Memorial Day 2013, I went skiing.

Between Saturday night and Sunday, a beautiful nor’easter dumped 8″ on the summit of Mt. Mansfield (and 3 feet on New York’s White Face). The lowlands were pelted with rain. Monday morning had me waking up to sunshine and blue skies. Naturally, I threw my skis into my car and high-tailed it for the hills.

All day, two thoughts circled through my mind. One I’ll write about now. The other I will save for the next blog post.

The first: Brendan Leonard over at Semi-Rad wrote about a divide between Uphill People and Downhill People. He is of the former – finding pleasure in the journey UP, whether it’s sending a climbing route or skinning into the backcountry. As he describes, “I enjoy the Zen rhythm of methodically skinning up the snow, forcing myself to stay at a pace that I could hold for an hour straight without stopping…”

I have a deep appreciation for the uphill. Movement is my meditation, after all; the more all-consuming the better. This morning, I took a round-about way up to avoid the sight and sounds of other hikers (all four of them). In no time at all, I fell into a natural, steady pace. With no one to catch up to or slow down for, I simply walked forward. And up.

It was a warm day in the sun, but the wind flowing downhill was cold. It picked up the smell of the snow and beckoned me ever forward.

I stopped to eat lunch below the gondola summit and leaned again the pylon. Here, the snow lay inches thick and heavy with the morning’s warmth. I felt no need to walk any higher. The tops of things don’t interest me, particularly when I’m hungry and surrounded by snow. By the time I was done eating, the cold wind had picked up and drove me to my skis.

Clicked in and buckled up, I pushed off. The first turn wasn’t so good. Neither was the second. But, as I made my third arc, I hit the rhythm and my face exploded into a wide, open-mouthed grin. I turned off Gondolier and onto Switchback – which was perhaps not the brightest idea. Riding down Switchback meant navigating over ditches and large rocks while sliding on a fifty-fifty mix of snow and small rocks. I loved every minute of it. I was drunk on the same heady elation that overcomes me on long powder runs. It’s a thick, rich, sweet feeling of absolute thankfulness. (I imagine this is analogous to drinking Turkish Coffee.)

The most fun I've had since I discovered my brother's afraid of worms. — The most fun I’ve had since I discovered my brother’s afraid of worms.

See, I’m a Downhill Person. I love stepping down, then down again, then down once more, ever faster as momentum builds. I love the jarring shock of my legs absorbing the full weight of me with each step or turn. When I ski, I fly downhill. When I hike, I run downhill. When I am in the throes of a moment I want to savor forever, I run downhill. Even when I’m afraid, I find it’s best to take a deep breath and go downhill.

If the uphill is meditation, the downhill is ecstasy. At speed, I am released to being the child flying, arms flailing, as she runs into the arms of her mother.

(Aside: My love of the downhill is funny, because I am afraid of heights. But I think much of my fear isn’t fear at all, simply a horrified reaction to l’appel du vide. The call is strong in me. It stubbornly persists, insisting that I could fly if only I jumped. I long to fly. If I could, I would fly as high as Icarus, then drop like a peregrine, only to open my wings and climb once more. This is why I ski. It is my answer to l’appel du vide.)

The balance between Uphill and Downhill is the joy of earning your turns. By going both ways, reap the benefits of both motions and mindsets. The zen and the ecstasy – or whatever it is that goes through your heart as you get out there and enjoy.

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How did you spend your Memorial Day weekend – going Uphill or Downhill? (Or relaxing around a grill?)

From Snow to Beach in 7 Days

May 8, 2013May 8, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

In the span of a week, my photostream transformed from this:

Jay Peak Springtime — 73º and sunny – April 28, 2013

To this:

Now, my routine has turned to running and long bike rides along the water.

Running-wise, my mileage is low and the pace steady. It’s taking time for my body to re-align after a cold winter spent locked in to stiff ski boots. Monday morning’s brisk 2 mile jog was the first time I really felt myself hitting the perfect stride – forefoot striking with balance and energy.

As to the cycling, I confess. I’m not much of a biker. My dad and elder brothers are pretty into it, so I made a point to not be. But, after a 14 mile spin along the waterfront, I’m starting to see the appeal: the gratifying sensation of speed, the pleasure of exercising in the sun, and, more importantly… a built-in air conditioner! It’s no skiing, but at least it’s cool.

I’m looking forward to getting back to the mountains, though. First for hiking, then trail running, picking up the pace as I train for the Spartan Race. I did the 3 mile version last year, and am looking forward to the long form. Nothing sounds like more fun that running up and down a mountain through mud, under obstacles, over rope ladders… and through a gauntlet of gladiators.

There’s a lot I’m looking forward to this summer, but don’t expect the ski talk to disappear completely. I’ll be writing up a review of my new skis (Head’s Sweet Ones) in a few days, and I’m sure I’ll find some other way to keep the snow alive this summer.

How’s your spring going? Are you keeping the snow alive?

Spring on the summit of Jay Peak

April 28, 2013April 28, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

What an amazing day.

Day 29 and I’m sunburnt, happy, and completely content. I fully intended to tap out at 30 – to hit that magical round number. (This is my first year counting days. Something I picked up from the ever-inspiring Female Ski Bum.)

But, if this is the day I end on, then so be it.

View from Jay Peak — You should definitely view this full-sized.

I conned/bribed/begged a friend to come with me to Jay Peak. He’d never been, so it was a extra joy to introduce him to one of my favorite mountains (and the tram – he’d never been on one before!).

It was 63º at the base when we arrived. Then, we skied snow at the sweet spot between the consistency of corn and mashed potatoes. Wide open trails, hardly a crowd… we didn’t even mind that there were really only a few ways from top to base. At the summit, we could see straight to Mt Washington.

Ride life. — Sunny with a chance of Craig.

Lunch was the Jay Peak meal of champions: two salads, a plate of hot poutine (my favorite food group. I’m mad for poutine.) and a 24oz can of Molson.

A few more runs, and we were both cooked. Back at the car, the thermometer read 73º.

I can think of no better way to end the 2012-2013 ski season than this: sunburnt and happy sipping on a fresh, cold Switchback.

Last Days, Blue Skies

April 22, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

The sky was blue, the sun was warm.

Bluebird at the Quad — I didn’t mean those things I said. I love you! Don’t let me go!

28 days doesn’t seem like very many.

28 days of new friends and old. 28 days of powder measured in inches and the distance between two gates measured in seconds.

28 days later, I want 28 more days of snow and cold and bluebird (and graybird. I am from New England after all).

Spring on Mt Mansfield — Before the crowd.

The inevitable thaw continues on, although it’s not over until it’s over. Jay Peak is holding on, as is Killington. Sugarbush, too.

28 days. Why not squeeze in a few more?

Less than Stoweked – A Stowe Mountain Ski Area Review

April 18, 2013April 18, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

Alternative title: In which I bite the hand that skis with me.

I spent the winter riding up, down, all over Stowe Mountain Resort. Bombing trails, bumping moguls, ducking in and out of trees, and sometimes avoiding cliffs and ice flows. (But only sometimes.)

Stowe is a great area.

A true Stowe powder day — Two words: powder day.

But I’m not going back next year. And I’m not bummed out about it.

I got my season pass at a steep discount. A lucky break for me, really, as I’m poor. My very impressive Helly Hansen jacket is a hand-me-down. My new skis were bought on sale. The rest of my equipment is either ancient, a hand-me-down, or a Christmas present.

I love skiing on Mt. Mansfield. It’s an awesome, gnarly mountain with the steep pitches and tight chutes that make my heart go rat-a-tat-tat. If Stowe was the only resort on this mountain, I would seriously consider sleeping in my car to afford to ride there. But it’s not. Smuggler’s Notch is just on the other side of the slope. You can even ski between them.

View of Stowe from Smuggler's Notch — Oh hey there, Stowe. You’re looking pretty today.

That about sums up why I like Stowe, but don’t love it.

There’s also this: I’m sure they put a lot of money into their facilities, ski programs, and whatever else. None of which I use. They have fast, efficient chairlifts that carry more than two people. That’s nice, but I don’t really care.

Then again, that 4.7 million dollars they spent on a new snow making system… that is awesome. Their man-made snow is just as fun to play in as the real thing and the investment meant my first day of skiing was November 10th. Nowhere else comes close in snow making ability and quality, and in the temperamental winters of New England, that counts for a lot.

And the locals. Stowe locals are amazing. While I’ve probably pissed them all off by writing this, I must say that they are the best damn riders in New England. I’m a much better skier having spent a winter chasing them down the mountain, and when I go back (because I will. This winter and in winters to come), it’s because of them.

But I won’t miss snide comments overheard in the lift line that were so stereotypically moneyed American that I wanted to reach across the ropes and smack them. I also won’t miss the poorly concealed “Oh, you’re one of those,” when I tell people where I ride.

I love Mt. Mansfield. But I don’t love Stowe. The positives (of which there are many, many) are still outweighed by an overarching sense of disquiet. I belong somewhere quite a bit weirder.

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Get out to Stowe and form your own opinion. Let me know what you think. And Stowe-folk, please don’t hate me.

Those Green Mountains

April 15, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

Spring skiing at Stowe, VT — Oh, you’re taking a photo? Here. Let me ruin it.

Can you believe this photo was taken on Saturday?

24 years of skiing and this sport still surprises me. Mid-winter coverage all the way into April. Corn snow as light as powder. With every turn, the falling ssshhhhhhh sound of sand downhill. Only… it’s still snow.

Clouds hung on to the summit for dear life – like winter holding out against spring. The sun broke through in the lower elevations, however, baking the corn into wet, soft mush.

We spent the day in the trees. In April.

The next morning, I sat on a porch in a t-shirt sipping coffee watching the grass turn slowly greener.

Don’t give up yet. There’s still snow in those green mountains.

Dog Borrower

April 12, 2013September 25, 2014 eamillikinLeave a comment

I’m an unabashed, unashamed borrower-of-dogs.

From Sophia, my old corgi girl. My first dog and my litte sister. A quintessential corgi personality. Impossible to photograph, impossible to train out of begging for food at the dinner table.

To Joey, my brother’s Norwich Terrier, who conquers hearts and gains admirers wherever she goes.

Or Tanner, the English Shepherd mix who might just be the perfect dog. A rescue, too, who’s found his forever-ever home.

Then there’s Hailey, the most opinionated dog on the planet. I have never met another dog more convinced that she’s right and you’re incredibly and incurably wrong.

Ella, my dog-cousin. She looked me in the eyes one afternoon, and the wordless knowledge passed between us that she owned me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Younger than the others, though fast growing out of her gawky teenage years, is Clover. A free spirit and mountain dog with a soulful face and a hound dog’s bark.

There are others, too, that I’ve held and held back. And still more that I’ve stopped on the streets to say hello. Corgis that have brought tears to my eyes. German Shepherds that won me over in a matter of moments. A Chow-Chow-mix who was the sweetest dog I ever did see, but who definitely did not understand the concept of me spending a night on his sofa. And my parent’s first dog, who I know only by pictures. A protective mutt they found in a barn.

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Here a mutt, there a pure bred. From rescues, puppy mills, pounds, breeders, accidental litters.

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Dogs who evolved to stand at our sides. Who we brought into our tents, homes, families. That lick our fingers and faces. That leave marks on our lives, and maybe even our skin.

I still have the scar from when I was bit in the face as a child. An accident on both our parts – mine and the dog’s. Neither of us meant any harm, and there were no hard feelings. I loved that dog, Oscar, before and I loved that dog until he passed away, a very old man, years after. When someone tells me they don’t like dogs because they were once bit, I lift my chin and trace the thin mark of stitches against my jaw.

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Like a dog, forgive. And love again. Other lessons: stop to admire the leaves on the ground, the grass. Appreciate a blanket and a sofa. Stay hydrated. Stretch you legs. When it feels good, lean in to it. Sigh with contentment. Love your work. Love your play. Get dirty. Shake when wet. Kiss the ones you love every day.

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Mine is a life lived in dog-years, a heart marked by paw prints.

Contour lines

April 11, 2013 eamillikinLeave a comment

This is what I meant in my last post when I said “April in Vermont rubs the world down to its body.”

In the first few weeks of spring, after the snow melts, but before the grass really shakes itself awake… you find geography. The contour lines of the world.

I’m very interested in lines. I’m endlessly charmed by contours. The boundaries between river and earth and more earth and sky. Even the way telephone wires cross the sky, dividing the blue into parts of a whole. Or an overhanging roof against a gray morning.