Dream big. It is, after all, the month of November

November is when all skiing fantasies are created. (Eric Wilbur)

Warren Miller always warned us, “If you don’t do it this year, you’l be one year older when you do.” 

But with all due respect to the legendary ski filmmaker, last season left for much to be desired. In many cases, New Englanders couldn’t do it last year. Aside from a few stretches here and there, the Northeast thirsted for natural snow. Which left plenty of to-do lists unfulfilled. 

So, here we are, one year older…

A skier’s aspirations in November normally outweigh reality. Like an incessant Christmas list, there isn’t enough time — or, frankly, money — to do everything we originally planned to that season. Right now, I am considering booking a winter trip to Japan. The chances of me going are less than one percent, and that sliver of allowance might only be made possible by PowerBall. But hey, maybe, right? 

Last season, I was scheduled to make my first-ever visit to Montana. I was going to ski Saddleback for the first time in a decade. Neither happened. (I did visit Sun Valley for the first time and made my first solo pilgrimage to Berkshire East. So, off-roading the list isn’t so bad.) 

Oh, there’s plenty I intend to do after Japan. I want to take a lesson either in the trees or on the bumps. I want to check out the spectacle of Killington’s new base lodge, and experience the new lift at Magic. I want to ski in Quebec. I want to bring my kids to Sugarbush for the first time. I want to celebrate Red Parka Pub’s 50th anniversary with a piquant pub burger. 

Some yearnings are more realistic than others. I’m not likely to go heli-skiing in British Columbia, but I’ll probably have little issue taking the backcountry course at Bolton Valley. This probably won’t be the season I finally visit Chamonix, but it could be when I make my first-ever trip to someplace like Black Mountain of Maine. Racing Breezy Johnson down Birds of Prey might not be realistic, but participating in a local NASTAR race is. 

And if I don’t get to do it this season, I’ll only be one year older when I do anyway. 

It’s OK to let your mind take you away, even if the promise of fulfillment fails to materialize. If this turns out to be one of those winters where we get constant snow, anything is possible. If it’s like what we got last year, well, it’ll still be a fun season. But the whole series of well-laid plans might find the back-burner for another year. 

So, as we sit here in November, waiting….for the snow to come, for the temperatures to fall, for that first chair of the season, for that first turn, leading into another, and another, and another…it’s normal for our winter dreams to ramble out of control. Maybe this is the year for Tucks. Maybe you just hope to find a quiet place where you can ski away from the crowds. Maybe you’ll buy new skis. Maybe you’ll learn something new. 

Alas, I will (likely) be one year older by the time I get to Japan, France, or Italy to ski. I’ll be closer to 50 by the time I finally manage the nerve to climb into a helicopter. I’m OK with that, despite Warren’s warning. 

Or maybe I’ll just get it all done this season. 

It is November, after all. This is when all skiing fantasies are created. 

Fulfilling them is something else entirely. 

Eric Wilbur can be reached at [email protected].