It is difficult for me to share my beautiful lakes and mountain with people who are used to the hustle and bustle of the city. While the water was quiet, I could see two motorboats, a man with four young boys and a family who felt everyone at the launch site should hear everything they were saying.
The kids at Farm & Wilderness were all taking their swim test, which resulted in a quiet nervousness exuding from their shores. The new crop kids stood quietly, awaiting their turn to jump in and prove their skills by demonstrating strong technique around the swimming area. It was almost eery paddling by them, their performance anxiety passing itself along to me.
But I realize that they are all here to enjoy the same beauty that I am. The motorboaters were really two grandpas teaching their preteen grandsons the art of fishing. While I could have bitched about how their engines were polluting the pristine waters, I could also rejoice in watching the bonding of multiple generations through the outdoors.
So when I think about sharing, I immediatly think about hoarding. Hoarding Powder, that is. Making sure that I get more than my fair share when winter rolls around. My entire hike this afternoon had but one thought: Where's MY Line?
As I meandered up through the woods on Trail E on my way to the Peak, my mind wandered back on times when I had just come blasting past the flagged crossing to escape the rocks at the bottom of Julio and Anarchy. The bottoms of my skis have probably wondered the same thing :) Today there was something pulling me, daring me to step off the trail and into the woods just one more time...
I could see them, all the lines that I have to wait until next year to ski. They were calling to me, perhaps slightly lonely during the summer when the brush grows too high to walk through. But the trees are there, standing silent and waiting for winter when they will be loved and cherished by all the psychotic skiers and riders who breathe better in the woods.
It felt almost like when I was a child, when my parents wouldn't let us wander too far off into the woods. You could around one tree, maybe take this little whoop de doo, but never just dive in and get lost among them. They were untouchable. I could feel my heart racing with the excitement of powder turns dreamed...
Oh, but they will still be there when the snow falls and we get to dance among the trees once more. But for now, I will have to learn to share my beautiful mountain with everyone from Jersey and their mother.
Welcome, my friends, to the beauty of Killington in the Summer :)
See you on the Mountain,