Place Writing: Little River State Park
By: Sage Coates-Farley
In Waterbury, Vermont,
just off Route 2, lies one of Vermont’s many State Parks. This place is known
as Little River State Park. But it’s not just any state park, it holds many
memories. Picture a large lake, surrounded by campgrounds in the peak of
summer. Laughing kids, the smell of campfires, and a relaxed environment. The
calm Waterbury Reservoir makes nearly a perfect place for a day of leisurely
kayaking as a family. I can recall many days at the parks beaches after a long
paddle around the serene reservoir. I first learned how to paddle a kayak at
this very place and I’m so glad I did.
In the Fall. Picture a network of interlocking trails and
camping grounds. But now picture this very place full of bright red, orange,
and yellow leaves on the trees. And see families enjoying the last evenings of
beautiful weather around a glowing bed of coals. I’ve spent many nights with my
own family doing this same thing at that very same park. The sounds of campers
laughing and the crunch of branches as they move through the woods give a
mysterious atmosphere. The fear paired with the thrill of being in the forest
during the dead of night is unlike any feeling you can experience.
The author leading a dogsled team at Little River |
Winter. Although bitter cold an miserable for many, the
park can brighten anyone’s day. In the winter, every visit to Little River is
an adventure.
See this same place,
though it’s not the same anymore. All the color is gone. The reservoir is
frozen solid. Everything covered in a blanket of snow. The grounds are
deserted. Although it paints a desolate picture to most, look closely and you
will see the beauty of the emptiness. How the snow glistens in the sunlight.
The ice weighing down the delicate tree branches. The eerie silence. But best
of all is the whines of eighteen eager Siberian Huskies.Their howls of
excitement to be attached to the sled and take off down the trail. These days
are a special occasion for my dad and I to take time to ourselves and the dogs.
At first the stress of handling and packing for mushing doesn’t seem worth it.
Once the lines are released and the snow hook is pulled, everything is silent
again. You take off down the trail. The wind in your face and the steady
breathing of dogs. My first ever experience of driving a dog team were in this
park. Although those memories are sometimes unpleasant, it’s a part of life and
part of learning. Everything I once struggled with is so worth it when
experiencing the serenity of the abandoned park behind a team of six powerful
sled dogs.
And at last it’s spring. The snow is melting. The trees
are blooming. Birds are chirping. There’s a sense of life once again to the
quiet park. The start of a fresh new year, and a repeat of the life cycle in
the campgrounds. However, it’s accompanied by a feeling of loss. The loss of
the previous year and marking the official end of winter. In the spring time my
visits to Little River feel like dealing with unfinished business. To take down
sled dog signs and say goodbye to yet another winter. A melancholy feeling of
leaving a great year behind.
But, through the ups and downs of emotions
associated with my favorite place on Earth, I still can't picture a year
without a visit. It holds so many of my favorite memories and the potential to
create more.
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