I felt the gentle rocking of the chairlift against my back, clearing out any cramps that had formed in my last run. The cold snow fell onto my face, stealing that feeling of the warmth from my body, and snapping me back to reality, back to my ski trip. This was the second time I’ve gone skiing this year. I always look forward to winter, because these trips give me a reason to look forward to winter, and they provide a fun way for my family to bond. “So when are you going to start talking to me,” Mom said. “We have been on this lift for the past three minutes, and you haven’t even tried to make conversation yet. What were you thinking about.” “Not much,” I replied. “Well, it had to something important enough to keep you from being your normal talkative self.” …show more content…
The end of the chairlift became visible after a few seconds, setting me on my toes from excitement. As the chairlift stopper came closer, I began to notice how far we were from the ground. These hills were much higher and steeper than any of the previous hills I’d been on so far, but I still bet there was one I could go down. Our skies hit the ground at the same time, pushing us off the chairlift, giving life to a fresh layer of snow underneath us. We turned around and waited for Reagan and Dad to join us. They both slid down the minor hill with ease, catching up with us almost instantly. Reagan wore a white and green ski coat, slightly worn, but still usable. Her hair was tucked under her helmet, making her look like a “cone head.” The red and black skis she wore slid across the snow like ice, almost frictionless. The skis jerked sideways, sending a shower of snow in the air, calling her to a complete halt, with Dad following closely
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
As Jonas reached the top of the hill, the chill seemed to grow from his bones. Jonas and Gabe climbed onto the red sled from the memory. He clutched Gabe closer as the sled gained speed and the trees flew by. A few feet from the base of the snowy hill, the sled broke on impact with a rock. Jonas staggered out of the snow, trying to rub warmth into the newchild, who had begun to shiver violently.
At 6pm on a Saturday evening, Sally and her parents were on their way to go skiing for their 20th time. The whole family was extremely excited and looking forward to this, especially since the place was somewhere they’d never been to before. As they were in the car, Sally was daydreaming about what the place would look like, and wondered if her worst fear would be there: ski lifts. Everything about this scared her. The car is out in the open, has no roof, and the ride could malfunction at any time. Since this unanswered question was on her mind now, she decided to ask her parents to see if they knew. “I’m just wondering, do either of you know if there are going to be ski lifts at the place?” Both of her parents paused in confusion but didn’t
Bang! Clack! The metal snowboarding lift twisted and turned over the snowy mountain. My heart pounded as I forced myself to step onto the loading dock. I scraped my boots across the metal platform reading Bittersweet Ski hill. I thought about why they don't say Snowboarding Hill. The thought shook inside me.
The ground moved farther away from me as I went higher up. I nervously swung my legs back and forth and placed my ski poles next to me. When I looked down, everyone looked like itsy-bitsy specks in the vast, white snow. Whoa…, I thought to myself, the sight made me feel disoriented. As I went up the lift shuddered, shook, and occasionally swung side to side which made me feel jitterish. I couldn’t believe I was doing this though, but there was no going back now. After a few minutes, or what felt like hours, I could see the end of the ski lift coming closer. I prepared myself by getting ready to stand up by grabbing my poles and tensing my legs. There was a bright red line printed on the snow a few feet ahead and when I reached the line, I quickly stood up and got off. “Phew, at least half the journey’s done”, I thought to
I rush toward the mechanical clanking and rattling of the ski lift and collapse into the chair. Exhausted, I use this time to restore my energy. I begin to form the image of the steep route that I plan to attempt on my next run. Its nearly vertical face, large jagged rocks, and rough terrain send shivers down my spine and adrenaline into my veins. I painfully recall my previous attempt, where I did not perform the necessary technique in order to survive the run without a crash. This time,
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby.
As we were climbing up the hill, I looked around to notice how green the lightly damp grass was, how beautiful the tall trees were, and how fast those snow clouds were moving above us. We got one elk on this adventure, so we decided we would pack up our stuff and head back home. As the white GMC reached the summit of Red Mountain Pass, I looked back to Silverton to see nothing but snow falling from the nearly black clouds in the sky, and I thought to myself--let it snow.
A few winters ago, some friends invited my family and me to go snow skiing at Paoli Peaks, Indiana. I did not know how to snow ski, and I leaped at the thought of trying this new sport. On the first morning we entered the pro shop to rent all the gear and make decisions about whether or not to take lessons or go it alone. We decided to be adventurous and go it alone—no lessons. Kent and Celeste, the friends who invited us, knew how to ski and snowboard. He assured us that he could show us the basics, and we would be on our way down the slopes. All of us, after a few minutes learning how to wedge our skis started down the family trail. Although the family trail had smaller hills and appeared safe, to me it seemed way
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
I was dropped off at the top, I would meet me dad at the parking lot at the bottom. As I started skiing, I decided to go far left, where there was few tracks. I was instantly met by deep snow and a very steep chute. I dropped into the chute, but
By 4 PM we had conquered most of the peaks. As we were climbing what we thought was our sixth peak, Big Red, a storm struck. It was a cold driving rain that froze us as we struggled up the mountain. We reached the top jubilant, but exhausted. As the crew tried to get a bearing I came to the slow realization that we were not on Big Red, but another peak. We had two peaks to climb, and in freezing rain! With no options, we hiked on.
As we walked to our car, we realized just how much the day had taken out of us physically. We were both bruised and sore from our practice jumps into the gravel pit and very tired. But, at the same time, our souls felt warm and satisfied at discovering that we could overcome our fears and experience the joy and freedom of skydiving.
Tired, however woken by the tepid beams of sun, the riders start the new day with a few traps and bounces on the quarterpipe. When me and my family took a trip to Colorado we felt The fuss from the base of the truck and it is deplorable, in view of the commotion and over the top shaking. As we gradually climbed the mountain street to travel to Aspen’s exquisite lodge, it appeared to be relatively difficult to achieve the best, however every time we achieved it securely. The stones and profound potholes shook the truck and the general population in it, similar to a paint blender. Each window in the truck was moved down so we could have some use to hang on and not free our grasp we required so extraordinarily.
A blast of adrenaline charges throughout my body as I experience the initial drop. My body's weight shifts mechanically, cutting the snow in a practiced rhythm. The trail curves abruptly and I advance toward a shaded region of the mountain. Suddenly, my legs chatter violently, scraping against the concealed ice patches that pepper the trail. After overcompensating from a nearly disastrous slip, balance fails and my knees buckle helplessly. In a storm of powder snow and ski equipment, body parts collide with nature. My left hand plows forcefully into ice, cracking painfully at the wrist. For an eternity of 30 seconds, my body somersaults downward, moguls of ice toy with my head and further agonize my broken wrist. Ultimately veering into underbrush and pine trees, my cheeks burn, my broken wrist surging with pain. Standing up confused, I attempt climbing the mountain but lose another 20 feet to the force of gravity.