Spring 2021 (18th Issue) by Middlebury Geographic Magazine

MIDDLEBURY

GEOGRAPHIC issue 18 | spring 2021

Middlebury Geographic Spring 2021 4 — Contributors 5 — Editorial Board 6 — Editor's Note

From Here (stories from middlebury) 10 — Community in the Backcountry by Ethan DeMaio '24 18 — A Place of Intensity by Mai Thuong '22

To There (stories from 'home') 24 — Boston, Black and White by Nora Brown '21 30 — Coming Home by Haley Hutchinson '23.5 32 — Sent Home to Hike by Zoya Sergeyevna '23

And Soon Back Again (senior portfolios) 38 — New Experiences byVan Barth '21 44 — Setting Reminders by Daniel Krugman '21 50 — Quiet Moments by Matteo Moretti '21 58 — Senior Bios

2 CONTENTS

Photo by Matteo Moretti

Contributors NORA BROWN '24 Nora is a first-year from Needham, Massachusetts. She is currently studying German and Sociology and is a member of the Middlebury College Choir. In her free time she enjoys taking photos on film and exploring the outdoors.

MAI THUONG '22 Mai Mai is a Vietnamese Junior French major, Film & Dance Minors. Mai enjoys running in forests, hiking in mountains and swimming in rivers. Mai has farted around in Middlebury for the last 3 winters and 3 summers, and now that it is almost time to leave this place, she feels grateful for all the intensity and aliveness that Middlebury & Vermont have given her.

ZOYA SERGEYEVNA '23 Zoya is a Sophomore Independent Study Major in Contemplative Studies. She calls Bellevue, Washington home but is enamored with the beauty of the Green Mountains of Vermont. Her passions include exploring, bringing people together, and learning. Capturing moments is a new interest for her, both behind and in front of the camera.

4 CONTENTS

MIDDLEBURY

GEOGRAPHIC issue 18 | spring 2021

Editorial Board Editors-In-Chief Daniel Krugman '21 Matteo Moretti '21 Managing Editor Drew An-Pham '23 Deputy Editors John Epley '21 Haley Hutchinson '23.5 Senior Photo Editor Van Barth '21 Designers Abby Daly '23 Alnaw Elnaw '24 Jake Gilbert '24

Copy Editors Caitlin Baxter '24 Charles Crounse '24 Ethan DeMaio '24 Catherine Goodrich '24 Paige Indritz '24

On the Cover: Mt. Horrid Brandon, Vermont By Van Barth '21

Photo Editors Siri Ahern '24 Malick Thiam '24

On the Back: Mead from Chipman Middlebury, Vermont By Van Barth '21 EDITORIAL BOARD 5

From the Editors

6 FROM THE EDITORS

year defined by safety concerns and travel restrictions has forced many people to stay home as opportunities for traditional forms of adventure and exploration have been few and far between. However, this time spent at home has presented people with a rare opportunity. Rather than exploring new places and cultures, people have turned their gaze towards themselves, their own communities and familiar landscapes. This opportunity for introspection has resulted in a profound exploration of the places we call home.

Home is familiar and foreign. It’s difficult to define and takes many forms. We move through the world with a desire to understand places that feel foreign in an attempt to answer life’s most pondered questions. We do this without ever fully understanding the places that appear so familiar-- the places we call home. The stories and photographs in these pages attempt to deepen our understanding of home and what that concept means to Middlebury students. Out of necessity and a desire to depart from the typical focus of this magazine, we are dedicating our 17th issue of Middlebury Geographic to the exploration of home. Through the photos, stories, and art of our contributors, we hope to better understand what home means in this moment. From here to there and back again, this issue endeavours to inspire new understandings of exploration and belonging. “Home is where one starts from,” wrote T.S. Eliot. We invite you to flip through these pages and consider what home means to you. The Editorial Staff Words by John Epley '21 | Deputy Editor Photo by Matteo Moretti '21 | Editor-in-Chief

8 FROM HERE (STORIES FROM MIDDLEBURY)

FROM HERE

S TO R I E S F RO M M I D D L E B U RY Community in the Backcountry by Ethan DeMaio '24 | Page 10

A Place of Intensity by Mai Thuong '22 | Page 18

Photo byVan Barth

he water in my Nalgene froze. Hidden in a backpack, it succumbed to the same cold I was battling. When I checked the forecast that morning, the lows teased negative digits, their invisible bite buttressed by a mild northern wind. While my movement was sharp and ecstatic, my ears heard nothing. Snow enveloped every sound, except that of my skis, methodical and metallic. They clapped the ground as I dragged them towards the summit of Dutch Hill. Dry air stung the back of my throat as I climbed. I watched my breath and my feet. My toes were cold—but I soon forgot— and the white canvas before me turned deep blue. The sky is always bluer in the winter, and the rich color sprawled out through the trees as I switched my skis from walk to ski mode and my sunglasses to goggles. I felt exhilarated, anxious, and as the cold burned my ears; I felt alone, but I wasn’t. When I had arrived, the parking lot had sounded like a cafeteria as skiers lumbered up and down the snow-covered pavement. The cold had been no deterrent for a day on the slopes, though these slopes lacked an essential part of the New England skiing experience—a chairlift. Located in Southern Vermont, Dutch Hill is one of the many well-traveled backcountry skiing destinations in the Northeast. While the history of the sport dates back to the 1920s’, the perfect storm of demand, accessibility, and technology have recently crowded slopes that many traditional skiers before had deemed sacred. While I started my ascent of Dutch Hill that morning, passing through lines of skiers, I too felt it odd that such a niche hobby had consumed this whole mountain. The woods where I found solace were filled with other’s search for snow. As I climbed, I met John Osgood, a 63-year-old telemark skier. While I wasn’t a beginner skier, John’s years exploring these mountains made me feel as if I had just put my skis on for the first time. Osgood smiled at me through a white beard and a pair of glacier goggles. His dirty green jacket matched the coniferous trees

that surrounded us, verdant green needles emanating from an umber trunk. We had run into each other by chance at the trailhead, brief introductions led to small talk. Although he knew much more than me, he was curious and invited me to hike up with him. He started up the trail without glancing at the trail map, and after I collected my bearings, I chased his retro orange ski boots up the skin track. I had arrived expecting to hike without company but his presence was a welcome surprise. “I’m not sure about all this traffic,” he told me as we climbed at the heels of another skier. Osgood had been skiing at Dutch Hill for a decade and other local spots for much longer. Between his lamenting about the crowds and replaying his glory days, he told me he lived in Upstate New York and stops at Dutch Hill on the way to visit his girlfriend who lived in

10 "COMMUNITY IN THE BACKCOUNTRY" by ETHAN DEMAIO

Community in the

Backcountry Words by Ethan DeMaio '24 Photos by Matteo Moretti '21

Massachusetts. Each time he skis here, he said, more and more cars fill the parking lot. Popular organizations, web forums, and books have contributed to the explosion of backcountry adventurers in the past few years. Despite its rural location, even Dutch Hill has a dedicated volunteer trail crew and website. As new athletes pick up the sport, those who have been practicing it for a lifetime, such as Osgood, feel encroached. The fragile environments home to these steep slopes feel encroached. The Bostonian with fresh skis and a full tank of gas feels enthralled. I was unsure which side to agree with, the history of New England is so deeply intertwined with resort skiing, and the clout that belongs to such grandiose infrastructure that a shift to populated ventures into the backcountry are really new phenomena. Undeterred by the unfamiliar

"Why has backcountry skiing come back, how are ski shelves being emptied, what's different about the culture, and what are the impacts of that change?"

12 10 "COMMUNITY IN THE BACKCOUNTRY" by ETHAN DEMAIO 12

and rugged method of skiing soon vanished with the introduction of ski lifts in the late 1930s’. Little did John Osgood know that as he and I trekked slowly up Dutch Hill, that we were reviving century-old traditions swept away and hidden by extensive economic growth. In the close to 100 years between the creation of the Bruce Trail on Mt. Mansfield and my Saturday morning skin up Dutch Hill, ski lifts and vanity had dominated the ski industry. Until recently, the walkup skiing hidden around New England had stayed mostly untouched. “The skiing technology was engineered for resort skiing,” Goodman said, “skiing and ski equipment had become hyper-specialized … everything had been developed so that you couldn't just go into the backcountry, your skis couldn't go

aspect of this shift, skiers from well-groomed trails are heading to untamed glades of national forest land. This change in outdoor culture finds its origins in the gritty trails cut in the 1920s’. In 1933 Franklin D. Roosevelt created the Civilian Conservation Corps(CCC) or as David Goodman referred to them as “Roosevelt’s Forest Army.” Goodman is the author of the backcountry skiing bible, Classic Backcountry Skiing: A Guide to the Best Ski Tours in New England, and is fascinated with the history of the sport. I met with Goodman to discuss the growth of backcountry skiing and to pick his brain about his extensive knowledge of post-depression skiing. Dressed in a fleece pullover, it seems he could have just returned from the slopes as he began to detail the history of New England’s winter pastime. The CCC was the lifeboat that saved America from drowning in the 1930s’ and is responsible for many of the trails in the Northeast. “Skiing played a big part in the social, economic, and political history of the northeast,” David said as he described the creation of the first ski trail in Vermont, the Bruce Trail. Located on Mt. Mansfield, it rapidly drew a crowd, and “skiers from all the colleges … are coming to ski this trail and it very quickly gets around.” It brought extensive capital to the rural town of Stowe and inspiration to the rest of New England. The CCC was populated by young unemployed men from cities across the Northeast. Goodman chortled when describing antique pictures of “these men in wool pants, city guys who had never been out aside a Vermont mountain.” The CCC men cut “a variety of trails around the Northeast and around Vermont,” growing the foundations for the ski resorts that now dot New England. This beginning age of skiing Goodman told me was the “era of walkup skiing, or down mountain skiing because you had to walk up to ski down.” This primitive

"The fragile environments

home to these steep slopes feel encroached. The Bostonian with fresh skis and a full tank of gas feels enthralled. I was unsure what side to agree with."

anywhere.” However, in the late 1980s’ “cross country ski makers began making telemark skis, lightweight skis that could go in the backcountry and now we have the tools to explore.” Accordingly, skiers started to flock to the backcountry, Goodman described the “whole subculture that began to rise up and head back into the highest peaks.” Growing since Goodman’s 1988 book, the last two years tallied a sales increase of close to 150% according to the NPD Group(leader in sales of backcountry equipment). The question I posed to Goodman was: why? Why has backcountry skiing come back, how are ski shelves being emptied, what’s different about the culture, and what are the impacts of that change? I soon learned the answer to that question has created a divide, leaving two clear but intertwined communities. Those traditionalists who view backcountry as a trophy for a hardened few and those who favor the culture, community, and growth of alpine touring. Goodman played a large part in the growth and development of contemporary backcountry skiing. After being published in 1988, his book sparked a rush to the backcountry of a few thousand. David was humble about his role in the growth of the sport but acknowledged that his “book was part of the revival … but a couple of things had to happen.” He cited 13

experience, technology, and location as the foundations of this revival. The public distribution of these rural and remote skiing spots was the location aspect of the foundations and eventually set the standard for those who choose to build and promote the community. Goodman’s position as guidebook author is interesting and recently controversial. What responsibility do they have to protect hidden skiing spots and what obligation do they have to their readers. Guidebook author and avid skier Stephen Bass was sued earlier this year by ski ferry and guide service, the Steamboat Powdercats. The Powdercats pursued legal action for the safety of amateur skiers following Bass’s guidebook to expert terrain. When talking to the Colorado Sun Bass explained the Powdercats true motive lies in the protection of their skiing spots and snow. This legal battle is merely a microcosm of the conflict between skiers like Bass, Goodman, and many others, and skiers gatekeeping the community and land. Being a guidebook author himself, Goodman told me “I believe sharing is at the heart of what we do, but more importantly community is at the heart of this whole thing.” He stressed the idea of community and connectedness through these skiing adventures, especially during a pandemic. “People want to find ways to come together, and they want to find those ways to do that in places that are not managed and sterile but in the outdoors.” He was vehement that the growth of this community could only improve and better develop the bond east coast skiers have with each other. Goodman’s strong opinions didn’t develop without opposition. I asked him about how he wrote

14 "COMMUNITY IN THE BACKCOUNTRY" by ETHAN DEMAIO

such a detailed volume on a subject with little to no formal organization. He took off his Boston Red Sox baseball cap to smooth through his hair before responding to my query. “I was a history major in college,” he began. In the process of writing, “I seek out the people who are associated with cutting, the trailblazers themselves, these guys are all in their mid to late 70s and I go to interview them to hear the stories of this era.” Learning and collecting information from this hardened group of skiers was “probably controversial” as in that community “secrecy was prized, you had a line, a stash, you didn't tell people about it.” Goodman described these skiing veterans as “ a real counterculture, just a small ragtag bunch.” He was curious about the stories and history of these individuals but through his interviews decided sharing these locations was more important than preserving the culture of this group that was “very much intentionally on the fringe.” Set on rewriting the ways of old backcountry skiing culture are groups such as The Rochester/ Randolph Area Sports Trail Alliance (RASTA) and the Granite Backcountry Alliance (GBA). Goodman is involved with both as they share ideals about sharing the snow. Goodman even sits on the Granite Council. A group made of association members who have deeply experienced in all things backcountry that helps advise the organization. Goodman praised the work of RASTA and GBA as they foster “a partnership with the current stewards of the land… and skiers who leave nothing but their tracks.” By doing so he described, they grow the community and scope of the sport. Intrigued by the success of their programs, and to learn more about the work of these organizations I spoke with Sarah Davidson, the Advocacy Manager and Attorney for Backyard Concept—an affiliate of GBA—and through a short conversation with her, I was convinced that the growth of backcountry skiing was an infinitely positive change. “I think people are longing for that connection back to nature,” Davidson told me. She was passionate about presenting GBA in a good light and was prepared with statistics and notes. Her dedication to backcountry skiing transcends her career as I peered into her house through our zoom meeting and noticed skiing maps, posters, and decor scattered around the house. She donned ski garb similar to Goodman and described her skin up Maple Villa glade that morning, “I have a 9 and 11-year-old and they came out skiing with me,” Davidson told me, “it's just about fostering that love for the outdoors.” It’s a concept she’s very familiar with and employs it through several GBA programs such as their newest, Snow School. “We're going to be working with the local school system to teach about snow science, snowpack, and density, and just get kids

really excited about winter and snow,” this is exactly the sort of community that Goodman envisions. "Not everyone’s going to be a backcountry skier but they can at least love where they are living,” Davidson conceded. The GBA wants to grow this community from local levels, up. From the kids learning about snow to adults that trek up the mountains, it's all part of a larger outdoor community. Commenting on her Snow School, Davidson said “it's about empowering the movement from a younger age, and building a connection with the outdoors.” I was inspired after hearing of these connections, Davidson’s enthusiasm was contagious. Despite these programs and recent support for backcountry skiing, there are still many individuals set on gatekeeping the sport and community. This was the counterculture Goodman described, and although its presence has waned, the internet has fueled its members. Davidson recalled times on Facebook

"I was inspired after hearing of these connections, Davidson's enthusiasm was contagious."

“where you can see the whole gamut, people full-on wanting everyone to have access and then you see people saying ‘Hey, thanks a lot for saying you just skied this glade now it's going to be blown up and I’m not going to be able to get there’.” Rarely does GBA interfere with these interactions but their presence is a harsh reminder that there are two sides to every story. I can see where the frustration stems from, skiers being encroached by beginners that interrupt time in solace. I too enjoy outdoor activities by myself and although I don’t think of myself as a hardened backcountry skier I understand the value of being aloney. Where this narrative leads astray is in the form of negativity, Davidson and I agreed that aggressive comments online are unhelpful for everyone involved, “those things just stem and grow animosity that's not needed.” John Osgood doesn’t have Facebook. His annoyance of crowded slopes stays somewhat internal. I believe this respectful approach much better encapsulates the spirit of those seeking solace in the frozen woods. Respect in this culture is important and can help foster a healthy relationship between these associations and their anti-members. Keeping a number of glades and skiing spots unpublished and in close circles is the basis for this respect. “You know 15

where’d there’d be no crowd,” Osgood told me as we hiked up. As I respected his disclosure, that location remains off of online forums or books. To me it seems every skier in New England wants the same thing, they want to share their joy and enjoyment of the outdoors; however, in different spheres. Davidson and Goodman share on a regional level while Osgood and others prefer to keep their powder stashes within their close friends and acquaintances. Within this generalization there is still conflict, as talking with Goodman revealed to me that even he is impacted by his influence. “We met a lot of people who were out and yes a lot of them may have discovered that area because I had written about it,” he shared as he described his most recent ski tour. Thus, the skier author dripping in publishing generosity has found himself tasting his impact. When describing this conundrum Goodman seemed conflicted, although it was not an issue he hadn’t thought about before. Trying to preserve his ethereal guidebook-author image seemed important to him, and thus being consistent in his backcountry etiquette was of utmost concern. He understands there are more people on the trails because of his and others’ work but he enjoys the community, and not just the member community but anti-members as well. Detailing a tour with a better acquaintance, Goodman told me he “was exploring someplace pretty completely new to me with some friends, so I'm not going to say where it is, that part of the deal when your friend shows you.” Which told me, just because he was such a backcountry promoter he can still respect and appreciate those hidden powder spots, and an undisclosed bilateral skiing rapport. I found value in both communities fighting for backcountry skiing. My time with John Osgood was fulfilling and by him sharing another skiing spot he instilled his trust in me and that felt rewarding. Those interactions are invaluable and persuade me to do the same. To ski, and share spots with only those who earn them, those who ski, and those who appreciate the culture. However, how is one to even approach the gate to this community without the general knowledge and information distributed from organizations such as GBA and RASTA. While I believe both communities have a place earning their turns in the backwoods, the middle ground can be navigated: each skier participating in the community often does so subconsciously by simply being friendly. At the top of Dutch Hill, I touched ski poles with Osgood, the cold aluminum rang throughout the quiet forest. I put my goggles on while he skied in his sunglasses, I admired his style. As I took my run 16

down the hill, I felt satisfied with each turn. Satisfied that I climbed up for these turns, and satisfied that I connected with this historic community. Back in the parking lot, I took my ski boots off, as Osgood unlocked his salty Subaru Outback. He cracked a beer and relaxed in his open trunk. I dug out the peanut butter and jelly I had made earlier that day. Osgood and I conferred on how much better sandwiches taste in the wilderness. We both nodded; he sipped his lager, I bit my sandwich and gazed off through the crowded parking lot.

16 "COMMUNITY IN THE BACKCOUNTRY" by ETHAN DEMAIO

A Place of Intensity Words & Photos by Mai Thuong '22

18 "A PLACE OF INTENSITY by MAI THUONG

iddlebury: a little bubble where the population is around 8500 people, where the mountains are green in the summer and white in the winter, where you think cow population exceeds the human population, where you envision yourself settling down in your 50s with lifetime friends, where a summer breeze can translate to a blissful nap, and where you walk the streets of downtown at 8 PM to encounter no one. Despite such a peaceful facade, would you believe that this little bubble, Middlebury, is place of intensity? As I was running to The Wright Park, under the spring heat of 23°C (or 73.4°F if you’re from the states), I realized that it would be my last spring here. I will no longer get to feel the Northeast heat of Middlebury in July, a heat that I could neither pinpoint easily nor exactly in Fahrenheit. Yet, I am sure that those who have only experienced winter here may not trust that Middlebury could get that hot in the summer.

20 "A PLACE OF INTENSITY" by MAI THUONG

Three summers at Middlebury; I’m not sure if I could bear a fourth. Time to go home. It is funny to me that while I know it is my time to leave this place and return home, this place has become my 2nd home. I am going home, but I am also leaving a place I finally call home. Nostalgia kicks in. Memories of winters and summers in this place wash over my body. As I run, the nostalgic feeling renders me displaced, as if I’m stuck between time and space. This is a place of intensity. This is a place of constantly fluctuating emotion. This is a place that has changed my definition of youth; it does not necessarily mean I must always live happily, but rather, I must live intensely and youthfully, for these emotions bring us life. Even if I am sad, my teacher told me, that’s good, because it means you are alive enough to feel sadness. What an eventful place for an internal soul, regardless of its peaceful look from the outside. This is where friendships are formed and dissolved; where new identities are discovered and recovered; where sadness becomes anger, anger transforms into tears, tears into laughs, laughs into screams. And I carry all these into my dreams. This is where I am not sure how I feel, thus I’ve learned to grab my emotions and embrace them fully. This where so many intense events have happened, yet at the same time, it seems like nothing has happened.

This is where I hold youthful memories of student life, of all of us, in that little orange tent, in the rhythm of our bike's pedals peddling, in our drops of sweat during soccer games, in the slow walks to the golf course, in that sprint up to the Chipman Hill, in that heart-pumping dance under the light where my eyes were searching for you all in the audience, in that 100th Uno game, in that awkward but warm hug, in that look, in that high-five, in that elbow touch, in that every moment.

"I am going home, but I am also leaving a place I finally call home."

This is where the water streams forward and you witnessed me feeling comfortable in my naked skin. It is where we were biking to Silver Lake, and as I was looking at all of you from the back with the green mountain just in front of you, I felt as though we were in a coming-ofage movie. This isn’t where I would necessarily say I found the happiest three years of my life,” for who knows, those years may still be ahead of me. But it is where I would say I “found three of the most intense and youthful years in my life.”

"This is where I am not sure how I feel, thus I've learned to grab my emotions and embrace them fully."

19 21 21

To There

Stories From Other Homes

22 TO THERE (STORIES FROM OTHER HOMES)

Boston, Black and White By Nora Brown '24 pg. 24

Coming Home By Haley Hutchinson '23.5 pg. 30

Sent Home to Hike By Zoya Koberts '23 pg. 32

Photo by Matteo Moretti

Boston, Black and White Words & Photos by Nora Brown '24

n May of 2020, in the early weeks of the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself wanting to make a record of the changed world we were all living in. I wandered through downtown Boston with my camera to observe the empty streets and shuttered stores, capturing in film the city unlike I had ever seen it before.

24 BOSTON, BLACK AND WHITE by NORA BROWN

25 25

26 BOSTON, BLACK AND WHITE by NORA BROWN

28 BOSTON, BLACK AND WHITE by NORA BROWN

Coming Home Words & Photo by Haley Hutchinson '23.5

30 COMING HOME by HALEY HUTCHINSON

nderwater, it’s quiet. Hearing nothing, I hear everything.

My eyes are closed. My nose and forehead scrunched into a shrivelled prune, braced from the initial impact of the ice-cold sea. Gushes of blended ocean and froth roil around me, pushing past my face, twirling my hair into kelp. I feel my skin–alive–tinged with the chill of the surrounding water. 48 degrees Fahrenheit. I stay under. As I make my way farther into the sea, my face eases into the element. I feel the push and pull of waves breaking faster, faster, faster towards the shore. I feel the safety of the "So loud in my ears, I depth I inhabit as white water crashes over me. would be forced to beHere in this icy sink, my fingers brush the sandy come fully present in this bed below. As the pounding waves swirl above space." me, I venture deeper and remain untouched. Some days, I wonder what life would be like with a tail and a set of gills so that I could swim freely in between the tides, circulating this little underwater oasis, my only concern being steering clear of waters too shallow or fishermen too greedy. Day in and day out, I would listen to the tumbles of a turbulent sea–the crashes, the bubbles, the whooshing of water. So loud in my ears, I would be forced to become fully present in this space. Growing up on the Pacific Northcoast, the sensations of the ocean will always be familiar. For me, underwater is a space of clarity and curiosity–a place where my morphological inability to breathe puts the privilege of inhaling into perspective. The rumbling of bubbled water filling my ears reminds me of the power of the ocean; its hums and throes, its silence in space. But in space, there is movement. In movement, there is life. And in life, there is change. And so, underwater, I open my eyes. The salty burn paints a blurred portrait of grainy sand and inescapable blue. The large expanse in front of me eerily awaits. So much to explore; so much of which will eternally remain a mystery.

"Hearing nothing, I hear everything."

Sent Home to Hike Words & Photos by Zoya Koberts '23

n the wake of chaos, I found peace in the rhythmic pounding of my feet hitting the earth. As the pandemic unfolded, I secretly like to think it allowed me to rediscover the beauty of where I grew up and reconnect with family unlike before. Instead of viewing the Pacific Northwest with dread and pessimism, I began to approach it with newfound awe. That’s why I call this series of photos: sent home to hike.

I always imagined this photo as something I would see in an REI ad. My bright North Face jacket, tight headband wrapped my ears, and sopping wet jeans felt perfectly suited for this occasion. As I took this photo and continued to lean into the waterfall, I relinquished any care about getting wet, letting the chill soak into my skin. At this elevation, mist from the atmosphere had already soaked our clothes so as we stepped closer to the falls, we let the water drip from our foreheads like heavy beads of sweat. All of my responsibilities and feelings waited at the bottom of the 32

32 SENT HOME TO HIKE by ZOYA KOBERTS

mountain, in the parking lot, and as I stepped into the arms of the weathered rock, I felt grounded by the powerful nature of change. The water steadily pounded the ground while cleansing and pouring out memories of the winter season. The sound— heavy and frayed—echoed into the ripples downstream. Complete silence could be found in the thundering continuous vibration. The spray created by the impact reached out as if to rejoice in shock and release. Every part of my body shivered as I felt moved by the energy radiating off of the falls. I was cleansed by the crystal water.

In the wake of chaos, I found peace in the rhythmic pounding of my feet hitting the earth.

Vibrations do not require my ears only my feet hitting the earth. The cool granite transmits energy to my soles. An internal thrum of self keeps me steady. Finding balance on slick surfaces is simple once you remember the awe that holds every waterfall, mountain, tree, cougar, person, and organism together. Astounding is our capacity to forget that the winter will pass, the water will rush, and we can re-begin again. One small drop contributes to the tons of water running forward and No longer do I want to be swept away in my life but rather gazing softly at the thoughts, touched by every waking change.

On the way back home, again One always returns here. Returning was an inevitable action of 2020. How does it feel to know you’re going home? The sensation of watching the distance pass underneath your feet.

34 SENT HOME TO HIKE by ZOYA KOBERTS

Water Is sustenance Is renewing Is transformational

Grow The seeds of love The seeds of presence The seeds of acceptance

Care For family For self For community Water the aspects of your life, your attitude, your outlook, you wish to see flourish so you may look upon your life’s garden with contentment. 35

And Sono Bakc Agnia 36

AND BACK AGAIN

New Experiences By Van Barth '21 pg. 38

Setting Reminders By Daniel Krugman '21 pg. 44

Quiet Moments By Matteo Moretti '21 pg. 50

Photo by Matteo Moretti

"NEW EXPERIENCES" BY VAN BARTH

Lake Dunmore

"NEW EXPERIENCES" BY VAN BARTH

Mead Chapel

e hear so much about Middlebury’s idyllic surroundings, sandwiched between the Green Mountains and the Adirondacks. While it’s a cliche now, it does derive from truth.

Everywhere you look, there are open fields and mountain views. There’s value to being an hour away from an airport and three hours from a city. It means we are a ten minute walk from an organic farm and a 25 minute drive from the Snow Bowl. Not only is Middlebury fortunate enough to have the natural surroundings it does, there are plenty of opportunities to take advantage of them. I arrived at Middlebury never having gone climbing outdoors, so I learned on my MiddView Trip. I didn’t have a car for my first three years, so I went on Mountain Club trips. I’d never nordic skied before, so I rented a pair of skis for free at Rikert. I’d never run in a half-marathon before but the MiddRuns club covered registration fees. I’d never taken yoga classes, played squash or been log-rolling before arriving at Midd. Middlebury is the place to try new things. It’s the place to lose your balance log rolling or slip on cross country skis. It’s the place to struggle with basic yoga poses. Middlebury provides the assistance to try an activity without worrying if you wasted your money on something you don’t enjoy. If there is something you’ve always wanted to try; try it. As Mark Twain once said “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” Put on those skis, grab a racket, sign up for that trip, hike a mountain. Go make some memories.

Chipman Hill

"NEW EXPERIENCES" BY VAN BARTH

Lake Dunmore Mead Chapel

Snow Bowl

"SETTING REMINDERS" BY DANIEL KRUGMAN

’ve never considered myself a photographer. While proficient with a DSLR, I always was more inclined to tell stories with words rather than image. Having a brother who is much more

talented behind the lens and a deep commitment to not pulling out the now much outdated Iphone 7 camera during important moments only furthered this feeling, leaving my camera roll often empty.

"SETTING REMINDERS" BY DANIEL KRUGMAN

By the end of my first year at Middlebury this had become a problem. All full year in Vermont, countless events unfolded and memories collected, yet there was very little to show for it. After finding an old film camera in the basement of my childhood home over the summer, I decided to change this. Slowly learning how to adjust aperture and shutter speed, find the right lighting, and remembering to bring it on hikes and ski trips, I began to build my own collection of images of the things that mattered most during these years I never thought would go by so quickly.

Now in the waning days of my time at Middlebury, I do feel like a photographer. Not one (unlike the other senior editors of this magazine) who will go on to publish or have a career in the art. But rather one who is able to appreciate it, pulling out the camera during important moments, and set reminders of these times and of this place that does not last forever. These are four images from different rolls over the past three years. They’re my attempt to remind myself to be present, but in the moments that these were captured and with the people and in the places inside of them who remind me to be joyful, exuberant, and free.

"SETTING REMINDERS" BY DANIEL KRUGMAN

A fragile native brook trout caught in a mountain stream

"QUIET MOMENTS" BY MATTEO MORETTI

Quiet Quiet Moments Moments MATTEO MORETTI MATTEO '21 MORETTI '21

espite the hustle espite and the bustle hustle of and the Middlebury bustle of the Middlebury community, some community, of my fondest some memories of my fondest lie inmemories lie in sharing quiet moments. sharing quiet Walks moments. by myself, Walks skinby myself, skin

laps on the Snowbowl, laps on the catching Snowbowl, sunsetscatching and fishing sunsets the and thinfishing the thin mountain streams mountain for delicate streams native for delicate brook trout nativeall brook helpedtrout all helped form my past four form years myhere. past Experiences four years here. likeExperiences those have taught like those have taught me patience and mepresence, patience friendship and presence, and friendship compassion.and I feel compassion. I feel confident leaving confident Middlebury leaving knowing Middlebury that I’ve knowing met incredible that I’ve met incredible friends, peers, mentors friends, and peers, members mentorsofand themembers community. of the I owe community. I owe an immense amount an immense of joy to amount the quiet of joy moments to the quiet because, moments in because, in them, I’ve learned them, to be I’vemyself, learnedtotofind be passion myself, for to find storytelling passion for storytelling and to be so grateful and to for be so thegrateful opportunity for the to opportunity pass throughtoa pass through a place full of so many place full inspiring of so many people.inspiring Middlebury people. hasMiddlebury pushed has pushed me and challenged me and me in challenged ways thatmewill in truly ways last thatawill lifetime. truly last a lifetime.

One of my favorite views on one of my favorite walks

"QUIET MOMENTS" BY MATTEO MORETTI

Dan and I sharing some fresh laps on the backside of the Snowbowl

"QUIET MOMENTS" BY MATTEO MORETTI

A view that I have at least 100 pictures of in my camera roll

My friend Walter and his friends — the beavers — a quiet moment from shooting my senior thesis documentary

"QUIET MOMENTS" BY MATTEO MORETTI

SENIOR BIOS DANIEL KRUGMAN Editor-in-chief

Daniel is an anthropology major from Baltimore, Maryland. Serving as Editor-in-Chief since Fall 2019, he began with the magazine his first semester as a contributor then moved to associate editor his sophomore year. As a former editorial intern at Backcountry Magazine and current editorial fellow at Middlebury Magazine, his writing covers a variety of topics centered around outdoors culture, human experience, and social justice. Academically, he is currently writing his senior thesis in anthropology titled Beyond Refuge: Visions of Migration, Violence, and Abolition from Mirieyi Settlement, an ethnographic project examining localized methods of refugee survival in Northern Uganda. After graduation, he will be taking this work in migrant health and structural violence to a master’s degree and research position in International Health at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health. Despite moving full time to academic research, he plans to continue writing freely on life, society, and the creation of more just, possible worlds.

MATTEO MORETTI Editor-in-chief

Matteo is a film and environmental studies joint-major from New Jersey, as well as the Editor-in-Chief of the magazine. Stemming from his love of storytelling, Matteo is a filmmaker and photographer and will be moving to Carbondale, CO to pursue a freelance career in both mediums after graduation. This past fall, Matteo completed his first documentary film, “Just Being Here,” which is now in the depths of the film festival circuit and has been officially selected for three festivals — one of which is the “Made Here” Film Festival sponsored by the Vermont International Film Festival. When not telling, crafting or sharing a story you can find Matteo fly fishing both the larger rivers and small mountain creeks around campus. Matteo hopes to use all of his experiences working with MiddGeo over the years to bolster his storytelling skills going forward.

VAN BARTH Senior Photo Editor

Van is a senior political science major from Los Angeles, California with minors in Environmental Studies and Spanish. He is the Senior Photo Editor for both Middlebury Geographic and the Middlebury Campus. He primarily focuses on landscape photography and astrophotography, yet you can also find him snapping photos of events around campus. He works within the Office of Sustainability and has served on the Town of Middlebury’s Energy Committee for the last four years. Following graduation, he plans to head to DC and work on environmental policy issues.

JOHN EPLEY Deputy Editor

John is a history major with an architectural studies minor and acts as a deputy editor of MiddGeo. Originally from New York, he now resides in Greenwich, Ct. Since childhood, John has had a passion for outdoor travel and adventure. Whether he is surfing, skiing, backpacking, or exploring a new culture, John finds his joy in adventure. During his time studying abroad in Dunedin, New Zealand, this passion intensified, leaving him with an insatiable desire to explore and experience the world. Like so many people, John has had a tough time adjusting to life during the Covid-19 pandemic. Lockdowns, travel restrictions and a general lack of fun has left John feeling as though part of his formative college years has been lost. Following graduation, John plans on taking a (productive) gap year in an attempt to rediscover his love of exploration and travel. In addition to a potential gap year, John is currently waiting to hear back from graduate schools in Barcelona and London where he may pursue a masters in marketing. While he’s still uncertain of his immediate plans, John has his sights set on a life full of travel, exploration and human connection. Thank you, Middlebury and the entire MiddGeo team. These past four years have been truly special!