5 weeks ago in culture: The Charms of Rustic New England.
Let's just pretend that I didn't just ditch this blog for 6 weeks, ok?
Reason # 43 why Montreal is a great place in which to live: Within 2 hours of driving south of the city, you are whisked away from a bustling, metropolitan clusterfuck, a place where metrosexuals rule the roost, where under-sized, bottled beers called “Boris” are consumed by the case, and men and women alike insist on wearing flared jeans (a note to the gents: these do not make you look taller, they make you look more feminine), you find yourself in a world of dairy farms, homegrown beef jerky, rickety chairlifts, and rustic charm.
In other words, I took a thursday off work and headed down to Mad River Glenn, Vermont. I had been meaning to ski this mountain for years, but life kept getting in the way. Finally the day came, and it was glorious. After an industry-debilitating snow drought in the early season, Vermont ski areas were finally getting their due, and MRG got hers in the form of nearly 4 feet of snow in as many days.
A large part of Mad River's charm is the rustic, laid back feel of the mountain. There are no trams or high-speed, quad chairlifts to speak of. Rather, the locals' pride and joy is Mad River's beyond-antiquated, sloth-like, singe-seat chairlift. Everything about the chairlift seems wholly nonsensical, at least upon first inspection. The line for the lift is ridiculously long and snakes around endlessly, and then when the chair arrives to swoop you up, it looks less like the streamlined benches that proliferate most modern ski resorts, and more like a motorized replica of the desk chair you were sentenced to using in grade school. Honestly, I was less afraid of falling out of the chair than I was of being called to the blackboard to do long devision. Blast you, remainder 2, blast you.
But once you've locked the miniscule, tubular "safety harness" (ha!) into place and you start moving, things change. You are immediately launched into your own world of serene introspection. Within 2 minutes of the first trip up, I actually found myself singing aloud the first 4 versus of "Ring of Fire". And by the end of my last trip up, I had resolved to become a better Jew. It's amazing what kind of impact prolonged solitude and 40 km/h winds can have on the human spirit.
FS
Reason # 43 why Montreal is a great place in which to live: Within 2 hours of driving south of the city, you are whisked away from a bustling, metropolitan clusterfuck, a place where metrosexuals rule the roost, where under-sized, bottled beers called “Boris” are consumed by the case, and men and women alike insist on wearing flared jeans (a note to the gents: these do not make you look taller, they make you look more feminine), you find yourself in a world of dairy farms, homegrown beef jerky, rickety chairlifts, and rustic charm.
In other words, I took a thursday off work and headed down to Mad River Glenn, Vermont. I had been meaning to ski this mountain for years, but life kept getting in the way. Finally the day came, and it was glorious. After an industry-debilitating snow drought in the early season, Vermont ski areas were finally getting their due, and MRG got hers in the form of nearly 4 feet of snow in as many days.
A large part of Mad River's charm is the rustic, laid back feel of the mountain. There are no trams or high-speed, quad chairlifts to speak of. Rather, the locals' pride and joy is Mad River's beyond-antiquated, sloth-like, singe-seat chairlift. Everything about the chairlift seems wholly nonsensical, at least upon first inspection. The line for the lift is ridiculously long and snakes around endlessly, and then when the chair arrives to swoop you up, it looks less like the streamlined benches that proliferate most modern ski resorts, and more like a motorized replica of the desk chair you were sentenced to using in grade school. Honestly, I was less afraid of falling out of the chair than I was of being called to the blackboard to do long devision. Blast you, remainder 2, blast you.
But once you've locked the miniscule, tubular "safety harness" (ha!) into place and you start moving, things change. You are immediately launched into your own world of serene introspection. Within 2 minutes of the first trip up, I actually found myself singing aloud the first 4 versus of "Ring of Fire". And by the end of my last trip up, I had resolved to become a better Jew. It's amazing what kind of impact prolonged solitude and 40 km/h winds can have on the human spirit.
FS
posted by filthy soapbox at 5:36 PM
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