Catastrophic family events alter some teens lives. Others’ lives are altered by their pets, starting at a new school, or by finally standing up to the bully that always takes their lunch money. None of these things altered my life. A big, white, snow-covered anthill teeming with skiers and snowboarders made me the person I am today. Mount Snow, and the snowboarding culture that has grown up around it altered my life.
For five years I’ve snowboarded at Mount Snow, and I rode on the Mount Snow Team for four years. Two of those years I spent at Mount Snow Academy, where the major course was snow sports, and students were tutored on academic subjects. However, the Academy held its session only in the winter. For the remainder of the year my mother home-schooled me.
Schooled away from other kids, I was socially sheltered, like a bird that never learned to fly. Simply going into town to run errands, so I could have a “chance to see people,” would be the highlight of my day. Staring obsessively out the window of the car in the grocery store parking lot, I studied kids my age, so I could copy their every move and be “normal.” Meeting friends at Mount Snow refreshed me, like swimming in a lake on a hot day. All my friends rode with me at the mountain, and through this experience, I developed life-long relationships. We had snowball fights on days so blisteringly cold that we had to dance to keep warm, parties at someone’s house once the mountain closed, and long conversations lying in the cold snow, while flakes slowly fell onto our faces from the heavy gray skies. Of course, we effortlessly carved deep powder every chance we got.
Although I loved the social aspect of Mount Snow, I came to the Mountain to snowboard. I jumped and spun in the perfectly sculpted parks all day, hiking to the top of the park so I could hit features without having to take the chairlift all the way up, which is cold, boring, and wastes the time I have on the hill. On sunny days I rode in the smooth halfpipe, defying gravity while my uncomfortable goggles barely clung to my sunburned face. My coaches taught me to be fearless when riding huge jumps, and over the years I learned all kinds of tricks with stupid names such as Chicken Salads, McTwists, Stalefishes, Corked Spins, and Hoho Plants.
All summer and fall, I waited for the snow to come. I vividly recall riding in the car up to the mountain one day, right before winter, and passing through the entrance. I remember going past the lodges, empty as a ghost town, and the expensive restaurants I never frequented. I remember thinking: “Finally, I’m home!” To me, there was nothing more uplifting than the feeling of excitement in my stomach when I pulled into the parking lot, about to see the friends I loved so much.
I’ve sort of grown up at Mount Snow. Without all those years there, I would have been socially and emotionally ignorant when I came to BUHS. A lot of the people I met at the Mountain have had a huge impact on me, particularly because I met some friends there that I really felt I had something in common with for the first time. My first years at the Marlboro School were really depressing because no one seemed to have interests like mine. Mount Snow attracted me like a magnet. I met kids there, the likes of whom I’d seen only in movies, kids who lived to ride the snow, kids who wanted nothing more than to ride with their friends on a sunny day, kids that I didn’t really think existed, and kids that actually were a lot like me.
Just writing about Mount Snow makes me wish I could ride on the hill right now, floating over fresh, soft powder, the wind whipping in my ears. But of course, it wouldn’t be complete without my friends, giving me salvation from the every day lifestyle that I just can’t fit into anymore. Mount Snow is more than a mountain to me. It’s a place where I can leave my problems behind, and have the time of my life in the powder.