Winter Bucket List: Nostalgic Senior Edition
This article is featured in the 2025 Winter Carnival Edition.
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This article is featured in the 2025 Winter Carnival Edition.
This article is featured in the 2025 Winter Carnival Edition.
This article is featured in the 2025 Winter Carnival Edition.
Winter Carnival has crept up on us, and we are once again reminded that gone are the days of the Psi Upsilon keg-jumping contest, Winter Carnival Queen and towering snow sculptures. Though these traditions have since passed us by, I know many students who still carry with them an idealized image of what the weekend should hold, referential and nostalgic for a past they, or even some of their parents who went to Dartmouth, never experienced.
The broad contours of most students’ D-Plans are similar. According to the Undergraduate Deans Office website, students must spend 12 terms on campus, usually taking three classes per term. This allows them to take three leave terms and finish their degree four years after they matriculate, hopefully a little wiser and ready to go out into the world. Some students, though, have other plans and petition to graduate a term early, during the winter of their senior year. While these students often still walk with their class in June, they apply for their degree in the winter and do not take classes their senior spring.
When I was first struck down with illness during week six of my freshman fall, I honestly felt a little bit of joy. According to Dick’s House, I had a nebulous ailment — either the flu, cold or some unknown virus. I felt like a pile of bricks, but it forced me to take a break from my grueling schedule of: class, activity, meal, exercise, rinse and repeat.
The Cold Regions Research and Engineering Laboratory, known more commonly as CRREL, sits unassuming only about two miles north of campus. I, for one, have passed it frequently on drives up to Lyme or the Skiway — but had yet to fully understand the story behind the military laboratory that works to solve “strategically important problems … in cold and complex regions.” That is, until I spoke to the Dartmouth professors and students who research there.
As a queer person, I had concerns about fitting into Dartmouth’s historically heteronormative social spaces. When you think of stereotypical Greek life, “inclusive” is not exactly the first word that comes to mind.
Dear Diary — I mean, Mirror,
Many students might wonder what to do in the Upper Valley during the winter. While some of us hit the Dartmouth Skiway to get in a few weekend runs, or skate with friends on Occom Pond, those classic seasonal options can get repetitive. There’s no denying that some of New England’s charm wears off when the fall foliage is long gone and it’s too cold to swim in the Connecticut River. As a native of the Northeast, I’ve found that making the most of these chillier months often requires some creativity. So, if you’re looking for more ways to enjoy the cold this term, I recommend that you find a car, turn on your best playlist and head 30 minutes west to Woodstock, Vt., for a not-so-hidden gem: Billings Farm and Museum.
Wind in my face, the crunch of ice and the sun on my back — what better way to spend a Saturday morning? Last weekend, I teetered precariously on my rental figure skates across Lake Morey as couples, children and even dogs zoomed past me. Without the edge of an ice rink, which I would normally cling to, I resorted to squeezing my friend’s hand for the entire hour and a half spent on the frozen lake. Despite my lack of skill, I managed to remain upright and enjoy the crisp air and wintry views. As I skated along the three-mile track, I understood why so many Dartmouth students brave the cold for this activity — skating outside was an experience like no other.
Ever dreamed of posting your very own fish picture on Instagram, posing proudly with your catch of the day? Look no further. Since the spring of 2023, the College’s ice and fly fishing classes have provided Dartmouth students with hands-on, unique outdoor adventures.
I started this winter clutching my steering wheel on the drive up from Boston.
Sometimes, just as it did this past Sunday night, the snow falls peacefully onto the ground, coating it with a soft, untouched layer of powder. I’ve always thought that if perfection could be embodied, it would take on the form of freshly fallen snow. Like the snow conceals the ground beneath, perfectionism is all-enveloping — a blanket that covers one’s less-than-perfect clutter and mess.
Let me set the scene: it’s a random Tuesday, and I just managed to find a seat at the hightop counter by the windows in Still North Books & Bar.
Enter the sauna in the Alumni Gymnasium men’s locker room, and you’ll see a gaggle of Dartmouth students braving the winter months. Some may enter following a strenuous workout, while others may be desperately trying to sweat out a hangover. Others may be waiting outside the sauna door, unsure whether to enter — after all, the saunas can be intimidating for newcomers who are unaware of the culture and expectations within. Since the start of the term, I have been conducting a thorough cultural exploration of the men’s sauna. I hope this resulting guide will ease any fears about entering it.
After a busy week of classes and extracurriculars, few students may think to cook an elaborate meal on a Friday night. Yet, every Friday, around 5 to 10 Dartmouth students gather in Our Savior Lutheran Church to cook and serve a buffet-style dinner — ranging from tacos to pancakes and bacon — to the Upper Valley community.
For many Dartmouth students, winterim — the College’s extended winter break, lasting from late November until early January — provides a much-needed opportunity to relax at home. Some may binge-watch Netflix. Others sleep until noon. The more ambitious might do research or work domestic jobs and internships.
After hours of lectures, club meetings or dance parties in fraternity basements, students often need a way to refuel. Rather than order from Domino’s or settle for whatever is left in the Choates vending machines, students tend to head to grab a bite in one familiar place: Late Night at the Class of 1953 Commons, colloquially known as Foco.
It used to be so simple. You could just go up to a classmate on the playground and ask to play tag — that’s all it took to start a new friendship when we were five. Even through our awkward phases in middle school and cliquey years in high school, making friends was still relatively straightforward. You could sit next to someone in class, practice the same sport or work on a group project together, and instantly you would have something in common. In college — though many people have to start from scratch — communal living spaces, awkward freshmen parties and late-night study sessions likewise force us to mingle until we emerge with a loose set of friends. But what about the “real world,” where there are no lab partners or sandboxes? How can you make friends when leading a life of comparative isolation?