Stowed Away
By: Isabella Cho
My hometown, Poughkeepsie, New York, has been subject to affectionate ridicule by New York City natives, most of whom tease that anything above the city is synonymous with rural obscurity. I take mock offense, but I cede the proximity to nature they believe is so prevalent. Suburban elements proliferate in populated areas, but natural beauty is only a short drive away. I’ve surveyed miles of green treetops from mountain peaks and watched tri-color sunsets from rock ledges where the buildings below look like dollhouses. In my hometown, society and nature live in a hybrid balance. So, this winter break, when I took a trip to Vermont, the isolation of New England felt like exile.
The drive to Stowe, Vermont was disconcerting. The usually-ubiquitous shopping plazas that line highways all but disappeared. Tiny, winding local roads made me question if the car was still on a paved path, or if it had veered off onto some obscure dirt backroad. Approaching cars startled me as their brights shined through the front windows, and I questioned if both could pass safely.
As we moved closer to Stowe, the dainty homesteads and clapboard houses that dotted the expanse evoked a sense of solitude. I tried to capture the lonesome attractions as we drove past, filling my camera roll with motion-blurred photos of the quaint scenery. A world so untouched was captivating. Even in the secluded mountains in my hometown, the cleared trails and littered plastic water bottles destroy a sense of isolation. Here, with the undisturbed white blanket of snow, everything was silent.
During my first night in Stowe, I felt quarantined from the world, divorced from the comfort of ever-present cell service and nearby society. Even more than in Ithaca, I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. Central New York feels desolate, but New England feels abandoned, with its solitary farmhouses, sickly forests, and sprawling fields. I secretly wondered how the residents lived in a disconnected place, how they adapted to not suburban sprawl but sprawling fields.
But, I also felt comforted by the remoteness, and an unfortunate skiing accident revealed why. The mishap brought my family and me to the tiny local hospital. There, a kind man in the waiting room asked if we had been caught by the floods in the nearby Franklin County. The receptionists laughed behind their desks. The local news blared from an antiquated TV. A pregnant woman walked through the automatic doors, trailed by her toddler son and husband. Here, everything and everyone moved slower, out of sync with the rest of the bustling Northeast. I was not isolated but insulated from the world, stuck in a bubble where people moved deliberately and leisurely instead of frantically and intensely.
After our trip to the hospital, a foray into the main town convinced me of New England’s charms. As the white church steeple rose up from behind a hill, the colorful buildings of the town came into view, a cluster of multi-colored dots against the rolling fields. There, I ate dinner next to families clad in ski gear while my mom joked with a neighboring table. Bundled figures passed into clapboard buildings, and pom-pom beanies were abundant. When leaving buildings, I bundled up with strangers before we faced the cold together, a silent solidarity between us.
The next day, I took a walk around the surrounding field. I was fascinated by the gurgling stream I stumbled upon and took off my gloves to run my hand through the clear water. After my outside excursion, I built a fire in the Airbnb fireplace and spent hours watching the flames.
At the end of the trip, I hadn’t shaken the lack of security I felt being away from populous civilization. But, the feeling of peace overcame those of discomfort. Eight-hundred fifty thousand people visit Stowe every year. They come to ski and enjoy the eclectic events the town offers. But, they also come to get a taste of the simple life.
Isabella Cho is a freshman from Poughkeepsie, NY majoring in Government. One of her favorite travel destinations is Cape Cod because of its pristine beaches.
