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Thursday, February 16, 2006 Two mornings ago, when I glanced blearily out at the thermometer beyond the dining room window, the mercury hoverered around the 10° mark. An improvement from the 0°F (or lower) readings of the previous ten or so mornings. Yesterday at the same hour: a lovely 30°, the air feeling mild, the Vermont countryside basking in sunlight, looking like an extremely user-friendly day might be in store. And right on time -- friends were spending a few days in Killington, south of here, I had plans to drive down and swan about with them. Mid-afternoon, drove into Montpelier, did the manly gym thing. Headed south from there, tooling along the interstate for 25 minutes, enjoying Vermont countryside bathed in sunshine. Transferred to local roads, spent half an hour following two-lanes that wound between green mountains, with streams and broad, shallow rivers appearing and disappearing to either side of the roads. Snow minimal, bare ground everywhere, the predominant colors browns, grays, dull winter greens -- far more of that than up in this part of the state where white still abounds, at least outside towns, though less than what some might consider normal. Far less. A fine, relaxing ride, through teensy towns and late winter countryside. Until Killington, that is, when the scene changed from low-tempo rustickness to sudden drastic overabundance of cars, motels, hotels, condos and restaurants. And behind all of it: looming green mountains, white ski trails descending the slopes between patches of forest. Drove along Killington Road, a three-lane lined with, well, motels, hotels, condos and restaurants, a few standing out from the rest via an enthusiastic show of garishness. Kept driving until all that gave way to trees, mountains, sky, the road rising to a sudden wide-open view, hotels and condos abruptly recommencing, one of those my destination. I followed traffic into a parking lot where a sign indicated hotel customers should proceed to the left. Assuming that excluded freeloaders like me (my friends having advised me to be careful about where I parked), I turned right, parked on a high, unpaved section of land, the valley spread out around me in full Vermont ski-country splendor. Headed to the hotel's main entrance, assisted by a strong, chilly wind, the area feeling noticeably cooler than up north. Inside, I approached a smiling concierge, explained I was visiting friends, asked if there would be any problems with where I'd left my car. His smile faded as he realized I wasn't an actual customer, he assured me dismissively that there'd be no problem. Leaving me to find my way upstairs and down long corridors to meet up with G&S in their luxury hideyhole. Turned out to be a nice little space, their squat for the week. And not so little, in reality. A genuinely spacious studio complete with kitchen (the real thing, not a hotplate special), dining area, murphy bed, sizeable entertainment center (including gnarly-looking boombox rated to 170 watts of tooth-rattling power), comfy sofa, comfy loveseat, and a fine view of mountain, ski runs, sunset, folks returning to the hotel from the slopes. Loaned to G&S by the owners, friends who timeshare it. Friends are good. Well-placed friends are gooder. They were lounging about in thermal underwear when I arrived, doing the post-skiing afterglow thing. We hung out, they showed me their brand new bells-and-whistles-galore cellphones (I thought they were pagers at first, so sleek and simple-looking were they when closed -- silly me), we discussed vice presidents shooting elderly people in the face. And when daylight began to fade, we pulled on swimming gear and trooped down to the hotel pool, the first of two main events. When we'd originally talked me about me coming to visit, they'd suggested I bring a swimsuit, told me the pool was an indoor/outdoor number. Which sounded nice, of course. And that's not all, they said: jacuzzis! hot tubs!. Last time I sat in a hot tub was in northern Idaho during a late-80's Thanksgiving weekend, snogging with a woman from eastern Washington I was seeing. Good company, snow-covered mountains, romantic fun & games. Left me with good associations when it comes to hot tubs. So whoopee, I figured, though I noticed I was more interested in the hanging with friends part of the experience than with the water sports. Didn't really know why, wondered about it in a vague way for a moment or two, then forgot all about it. [continued in next entry] España, te echo de menos. rws 1:04 PM [+]
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