When I was around five or six my family took a trip out to California to visit my Grandma and Grandpa. They live in a suburb of San Diego, so having visited them plenty of times before in the always hot and dry weather you could imagine my disbelief when they said we were going to go skiing. So we loaded up the cars and headed for their condo on Mammoth Mountain. The strangest thing that happened on the ride up would have to have been being in the middle of the desert and seeing advertisements for snow chains installments. It seemed like once those signs started popping up we hit snow. When we got to the condo the first thing my brothers and I did was jump straight into the snow, we didn’t even hear my mother telling us to put on our snow gear first. …show more content…
I’ll never forget that first day on the mountain it was the day that sparked my love for skiing. Ever since then I’ve tried to go skiing as much as I possibly can, although school tends to get in the way of that plan. The thing I like the most about skiing is the fact that I can go as fast as I want down the mountain, as long as there aren’t any rangers around, without having to worry about anything except maintaining control. Every year I have pushed myself to go faster and faster so far the fastest I have ever gone is sixty two miles an hour. For the past thirteen years skiing has been one of my favorite activities and I urge anyone who is thinking about trying it to just do it, it does seem hard at first but once you get the hang of it you might become
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
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 approach the rugged mountain, shielding my body from the nasty frost nipping at my exposed skin. The sun ever so lightly peeks over the horizon as I strap on my skis, lightly dusted with a thin layer of fresh snow. Although my body shivers unceasingly, I feel comforted by the surges of adrenaline pumping through my body. I skate briskly toward the ski lift to secure my place as the first person in line. On the slippery leather seats of the lift my mind races, contemplating the many combinations of runs I can chain together before I reach the bottom of the hill. I arrive at the peak of the mountain and begin building up speed. Floating on the soft snow, weaving through the trees and soaring over rocks, I feel as if I am flying. The rush of adrenaline excites me. I feed on it. I thrive on it. I am ski; I live for speed; I am an evolving technique and I hold a firm edge.
I think it was around my second year on skies and It was getting closer to winter and the majority of my friends all snowboarded but my dad never was really for it when I told him i wanted to switch, eventually he got over it and next thing I know my 12th Christmas under the tree I had my first setup, was not anything special but it meant so much to me that a few days later I had my Mom bring me to Gunstock and because I wanted to see what I could do and if I can learn. I think the night or so before I was non-stop watching youtube tutorials or something along that
With its overpriced lodge food, expensive hotels, and increased commercialization, skiing is a notoriously elitist sport, a luxurious activity that can be enjoyed only by a wealthy few. However, the normalcy ideology of human ability, which draws a division between normal people and disabled people and therefore is integral in maintaining the social caste system in daily life, further restricts how many can interact with the sport. By examining the skiing community, one can understand how this ideology functions: there are normal skiers and disabled skiers, who range from poor skiers to people who cannot ski for a variety of reasons. Further complicating this caste system are the professional skiers, the ones who appear to have superhuman skiing abilities. Interactions between and perceptions of these distinct social classes are responsible for both overt and implicit
Skiing has been a significant part of my life since I was three. The slopes fill me? with more joy than anywhere else. Throughout my years skiing, my Dad and my older brother Trevor have helped me. Following in their footsteps, I have progressed in both the way I ski and the difficulty of slopes I attempt. When I began skiing, I was scared and needed lessons. I could not complete any slopes except bunnies and greens (the easiest slopes). Through many days spent on the slopes challenging myself, my skill improved. I wanted to ski with my dad and brother, and knew I had to practice in order to even try keeping up with them. Determination to join them and be together skiing made me work harder than I have worked before to improve a skill. This story will help you see some of the challenges I faced and successes I achieved as I began to ski, and improved both my skill and mindset.
Snowboarding, one of the hardest snowsport to learn but easy to master, it's also one of the most enjoyable snowsport on the planet. Even though it’s fun, you can really injure yourself if your not careful. In this narrative you’ll witness the pain I had to go through trying to learn snowboarding but also witness me mastering this incredible sport. It was a cool afternoon in the frosty month of January, the time was around 5:30 pm and my dad just dropped me off at Snow Valley hill in his black Mitsubishi Lancer. I took my blueish green Burton Custom snowboard from the back of the car, grabbed my helmet, gloves, jacket and snowpants and went to the bottom of the hill. There I placed my board on the soft snow and put on my gear. I was wearing a blue jacket with dark
Pieter and I were determined to become proficient water skiers, while Rhea had knee issues that limited her participation. The Gibson Girl only had a forty horsepower motor, which wasn’t sufficient power for faster skiing or for doing tricks like skiing barefoot. I remember using the Comfort for some of our skiing before Dad traded the outboard for a sixteen-foot Gar Wood Junior, which had an inboard motor and more power. Pieter and I spent hours practicing the basics of getting up efficiently, skiing across the wake and then jumping the wake. It wasn’t long before we developed a passion for mastering slalom skiing. I wanted to ski all the time during that period.
Sledding is a childhood experience full of laughter and excitement. From the first time a child is pulled in a sled to the time when they attempt their first crazy sledding feat, wonderful memories are being created. Sometimes these memories blur together like snowflakes in a January wind. Happy memories with forgotten details, but still leading to the same ending; delight. Most of my sledding memories were like this; running through backyards and flying down hills. Sometimes however, memories are not always delightful. One memory in particular fell into that category.
After about half an hour my aunt and uncle left while we were still there though. My cousin found a ramp I counted about twenty feet up the hill from the ramp and put the snowboard down got my feet in the foot holders and pushed off and went off the ramp. When I fell I just got back up and ran
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.
In hiking, as in life, there are choices between success and pain, pride and safety; this is the story of one such choice. Last summer I participated in the Rayado program at Philmont Scout Ranch. The eighth day of the trek was my crew’s greatest challenge: Super Black Death, a hike of seven peaks in one day.
Thin air encompasses me as I commence the final day of skiing at Vail, Colorado. Seven days of skiing elapse rather painlessly; I fall occasionally but an evening in the Jacuzzi soothes my minor aches. Closing time approaches on the final day of our trip as I prepare myself for the final run of the vacation. Fresh off the ski lift, I coast toward the junction of trails on the unoccupied expert face of the mountain. After a moment of thought, I confidently select a narrow trail so steep that only the entrance can be seen from my viewpoint.
One of the most enjoyable things in life are road trips, particularly to the Colorado mountains. Getting to spend time with your family and friends, while being in a beautiful place, is irreplaceable. The fifteen-hour road trip may feel never-ending, but gazing at the mountains from afar makes life’s problems seem a little smaller and causes worries to become a thing of the past. Coming in contact with nature, untouched, is a surreal experience. My family trip to the Colorado mountains last summer was inspiring.