It was like a blizzard outside. My body was as cold as liquid nitrogen, and I was as scared as prey running from the lion. The bottom of the mountain was starting to disappear in the white abyss, almost making everything look like a blank canvas, waiting for a artist to paint on it. “How am I going to prevent running into a tree?” I told my dad. “Everything is hidden by the falling snow, and they even didn’t turn on the lights!” “Just stay next to the chair lift.” said my father, a million times calmer than I was. I looked up, and saw that fewer skiers were coming up. That was reassuring. “Don’t sweat it, Bryce.” “Can I just go with Travis?” “No.” “PLEASE?” “No.” I gulped. It’s like mother nature wanted to make my life harder, because the wind started to speed up. My eight year old eyes looked at my father’s with fear. I really didn’t want to go down this slope, it being the …show more content…
“When I was your age, I was going down mountains twice as steep as this.” “Okay…” I said, with a bit of fear in my voice. I saw people skiing down the hill, and shouting that this slope was the best in the park. That made me snap, and I pushed myself over the crest of the hill, and I started my journey down. I was going much faster than I expected. It seemed like I was a car on the highway, weaving back and forth through the other skiers. I looked behind me and saw my Dad for a split second as he whizzed by me. Show off. With the wind blowing in my face, it making a deafening noise as it picked up speed as I picked up speed. I suddenly felt accomplishment in myself as I whizzed by another skier. I also could latter spend hours bragging to my brother saying that I went down the hardest, steepest slope in the entire park. Suddenly, I reached the bottom and it was like the heavens opened up. The clouds went away as the blizzard went to torment other people, and the sun shined on my face, as water from melting snow trickled down my
“In high school, the kids who didn't carry their own skis called their parents to bring in assignments they'd forgotten or to ask for a ride home instead of walking or taking the late bus.”
I was afraid at first; I had heard many over-exaggerated stories from people who had claimed foul play, on the part of gravity, while skiing. So naturally I was a bit skeptical, but Michael assured me that the best way to learn was to just go all out and try my luck on one of the many intermediate slopes. At the time it had sounded reasonable, so I did. I've heard it said before; "It's easier said than done." Whoever coined that one knew what he was talking about.
I am frequently faced with the challenge to work hard on the mountain, especially on the difficult terrain to which I subject myself. I learn how to tackle the hard work ahead of me with a predetermined game plan, and I have come to value the joy of overcoming the obstacles. Knowing that your hard work has resulted in surmounting a tough challenge is very rewarding. My main goal as a skier is learning the skills to conquer any terrain on the mountain. In this process I come face to face with terrain that requires me to dig deep and face my fears. Surely this discipline on the mountain has rubbed off, because I find myself not afraid to attempt a challenge that others may find daunting. I trust my skills, and I know that “the only thing to fear is fear itself”. It is imperative that skiers learn to overcome fears that impede them from skiing down the terrain. I can confidently say that with the hard work I have put in I have conquered my fears on and off the
Brilliant white snow rushes under my skis making a soft crunching sound. The wind blows through my dirty blond hair, carelessly tangling it. The smell of pine and fresh snow permeate the sharp frozen air. Beams of sunlight cascade over the powdery slopes, creating a whimsical sparkle. I hurl down the mountain. My mind lost in the moment, taking in every ounce of scenery. What I failed to notice was the large patch of ice ahead, masquerading as harmless snow. I expeditiously continued on my path toward the hidden ice. From an outsider's point of view, I imagine I would have looked much like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel after my skis finally reached the ice.
I crest the hill, and push onward down the path towards the road. I hear Steve’s labored breathing to my right just as another gust of cold wind blasts my face, lifting with it a plume of snow from the knee-deep drifts we are plowing through. Up ahead I see the road with cars swishing past, throwing up black slush and water. Thirty five miles an hour. I am only doing five.
“Slow down!” my mom yelled at me; however, I couldn’t. I just kept accelerating down the hill with no end in sight. I was trying everything I could, but my skis wouldn’t listen to me. Then suddenly... Crash! Bang! I tumbled on the hard snow in order to avoid the net coming increasingly close to me.
I had heard the weather was calling for dry powdery snow in large quantities. Knowing that I had never experienced a powder day to that point, I was skeptical about the predicted weather. My doubts however were put down as we woke up the next day to see over a foot of new powdery snow fall. As we hit the slopes I noticed instantly that the powdery surface was new to me. You couldn’t cut as sharp and the skis didn’t bite until they hit the packed snow that was a foot below. As you skied you had to concentrate more on your foot placement so that you wouldn’t cross your skis, you also had to lift the back of your skis to make the edge press down further into the powdery surface. Being exhausted on my first run and trying to get used to the new surface, I did not know if I liked the type of snow everyone talked
It’s a beautiful morning, the air crisp and clean, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature cool but not cold. A perfect day for skiing. I take a deep breath in and hold it, smiling at the smells of pine, snow, and fresh air. I love fresh air. I reflect on this as we, my friends and I, move up the mountain on the (five person) chairlift. We’re at Huntington, the local ski mountain not twenty minutes away from where we live, Genoa, a neighboring town of Tahoe. Every weekend, my friends and I come here to get away from the stress of school and to relax. My friends are chattering away as I fade in and out of the conversation. Then something Lizzie says catches me.
Dad said, “We were lousy.” He chickened out at the top of the downhill. “We had to stand up there, all cold and holding our poles close, and then just throw ourselves down. We got so stiff, and it hurt so bad.”
It was a frosty day with temperatures at below negative two Celsius at the resort. At first glance outside the window, the snow piled up on the edges of the balcony. The wind was ferocious, slamming into the windows. I woke up to the screaming winds, eagerly waiting to a new day even if the scene outside proved other than that. Nobody could have been more excited than me. This would be my first time skiing, having the fun of a lifetime, forgetting about unfinished projects and disastrous test scores. Life could only get better today, what could go wrong? The answer was everything.
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.
The first day of skiing was like learning how to ride a bike.We weren’t able to find me a teacher for the day, so I had to go on my own. I did not realize how much snow gear you have to wear in order to keep your body warm. There were times that I felt like melting because it was hot at base of the mountain. The moment I pulled all my gear on and strapped my skies, I went right to the beginners area. I felt joyful when I saw people of all ages in the beginners area. I thought it was going to be just children in
My friends noticed that the wait was short, so we quickly joined the line. As we approached the platform, I began to have doubts again. All the possibilities of catastrophe ran through my head, but before I had time to back out, we stood next in line. Then the small gate opened, allowing us to take our seat on the roller coaster. With my feet dangling a few inches off the platform, I pulled the bar over my head and appeared ready to go. I felt my heart beating a little faster, and I held my friends’ hands tightly. Moments later, the platform below fell down below us and the roller coaster took
I skied like never before, feeling the wind on my bare face and the rush of my blood running from my head to my toes and back again. It was almost fun, dodging out of the way of trees and throwing the pursuing moose off balance. The bottom came into sight and I yelped with joy in my head, squeezing my fists. Thirty Feet…Fifteen Feet…5-4-3…. I made it down without a scratch on my body, besides the bear claw on my back, only to be awaited by the ski patrol heading onto the mountain for their early, early run check. Without asking a thing, I headed on the lift in a heartbeat and went in the opposite way of Jupiter Bowl at the top and skied to my house on the mountain. I went inside and washed my back and bandaged the blood and scars with a lightly wrapped mess of paper towels and dishrags; I then just had to go for a hot tub.
We went inside the lodge performing the usual procedure, filling out the paper work, and purchasing admission and lift tickets. We got fitted for our shoes and snowboard which built up all of my excitement, knowing that I was almost there. Everybody seemed ready to go with their snowboard in hand, jackets all zipped up, boots tied tightly to the feet m...