“Look at that–they blew snow.” My dad said as he pushed down on the brake, gandering at the mountain.
Our usual hiking spot, Spring Mountain, about a ten-minute drive north of my house, was covered in snow on Sunday. The conditions are now just right to blow loads of snow, commencing the kick-off of ski season. Snow stuck to the chairlift seats and icicles hung from the edges of the roofs. The gray, cloudy sky was a complimentary backdrop to the white which was everywhere. Winter was upon us.
My dad and I trudged up the mountain. On New Years Day last year, we hiked up the bare mountain in 55-degree weather. The east coast had a dry winter last year, not conducive for skiing. I mentioned in a previous post, referencing hiking this mountain in all four seasons; This was a first in the snow. And we would later found out it’s prohibited to hike the mountain when snow is on the ground.
“You’ll always remember this.” My dad hollered back at me.
With my departure for California approaching in twenty days, my dad is making an extra effort to bond with me. We’re making an excursion up to Killington after Christmas, instead of our usual date on his birthday in March. This jaunt will consist of good skiing, good beer, good wings, and of course, arguments and laughs.
We looped through the woods, connecting to the other side of the mountain, then hauled down the steep, narrow slope, leading to the gravel parking lot. From there, we crossed over on the ATV trail through the woods to reach back to our car on the other side. Mountain trails have no set finish points; each person decides the endpoint of the hike or trail. We extended it a bit farther this time.