.When we got to the top of larrie sail me and my dad turned down the slope. The wind rushed at my face filling my ears with roaring. My feet moved easily turning my ski as if they were programed to do this. My heart filled with joy a as I speed down across the snow. My dad stopped to let me go ahead telling me” I’m going to let you go ahead of my”. I just barely heard his words as I rushed past him. I was going even faster now. The hill came to meet me as I moved down the slope and came to a fast stop. At the bottom my dad came down to meet me. After that we went back inside. it really was a great run.
My father and I popped our ski boot out of our bindings and we walked back to the ski resort. When we got back we went to the locker room
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My heart was fluttering with excitement and anticipation. After 5 minutes, we headed down the bottom of the hill where there were ski school employees wait with
snowflake gps trackers, that will tell us where we had skied that day. They strapped them around our legs and we headed for the turnstile reserved for ski school classes.
We came in at the front of the line for the ski lift that would take us to the top of the mountain. As we came to the closer to the ski lifts the clattering of the lift mechery became defying. There were 3 groups in front of us, than 2, than 1. And the first group form the si school went. Family it was our turn to go up the ski lift. We approached the line that marked where we where suppose to wait. The lift chair came up to our legs threatening to sweep us off our feet a tumbling down into the deep snow in front of the lift. But we sat down, and the lift climbed upward gently sloping up to mach the slope of the mountain. Their where packs of up track snow and groomed slope with people turning down them. We reached the top of the lift and my class turned down regrouped at the top of the lift. We turned down the slope at the top of the lift and began swiftly turning down the sloped
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 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.
“Here goes nothing,” I thought to myself before I skied toward the jump. I sped toward the jump remembering what Trevor had told me. I soared through the air with my neon green pants flapping in the air. As my skis touched down, I bent my knees and realized I had landed the jump. My Dad skied to Trevor and I, and I found out that my dad had recorded it so I could re-live the moment. I was super excited they had caught my success on tape! Soon after I landed the jump, it was time to leave
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
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.
to the slopes and she how it worked. This was almost the end of snowboarding. Every
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.
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.
I was a captive to Dad’s schedule, and I had no way to come and go when I pleased. The Bobby project was languishing, as I was too busy playing with the Papworths to complete the work that still needed to be done. I figured rowing to town in the Helen would be a good trial run to see how to go about maneuvering a skiff to a chosen destination. With Hughie to show me the ropes, I felt this would be a great learning opportunity.
I awoke to yet another snowy Christmas morning. I was 2 years old. My sister and I dashed into my parents room. We pounced on top of them abruptly; jolting them awake from their distant sleep. We hurried downstairs, clasped our stockings in one hand and rushed into the backroom where the Christmas tree was awaiting us.
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.
Eventually, the current became a little stronger and the ride a little swifter. My feelings of disappointment slowly vanished and feelings of excitement and exhilaration took their place. As the terrain surrounding us became more rocky and rough, so did the river. It was no longer calm and clear like a mountain lake, but more whi...