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.
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.
All alone, I glance downhill and notice my left ski ensnared in distant undergrowth. One of my ski poles lies casually near the summit, trapped in a mogul crevice. The lonely winter atmosphere bestows little comfort; I am aware that the trail will stay empty until eight o'clock the next morning and therefore undertake immediate action. As I painfully peel off my left glove to inspect the damage, the monotone drone of the ski lift ceases. I stand up and detach my right ski, then ascend the powdery snowdrifts that flank the trail in search of my missing equipment. Upon attaining the altitude of my missing pole, I re-enter the steep slope.
Digging into the snow with my boots while stabilizing my body with the uninjured arm, I inch across the hill, lose my foothold, and plummet downward.
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.
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
He judged the distance to be about a mile from the lodge to the waterfall, and crept slowly past the spiders. Careful not to make a sound, he trudged only on the dry land whenever he could and had to take off his shoes sometimes to avoid a squelching sound. He almost reached the water when suddenly a spider changed direction and came for him. Losing all sense of sneakiness, he ran to the waterfall and hid behind it. Although he lost the spider, his clothes were drenched and he had lost his shoes during the run. Now that he’s made it to the actual waterfall, it's time to climb. Now as a child Jerry’s dad always made him practice climbing, in case he got trapped somewhere in the mountain and had to climb out. Those punishing practices left blisters and limbs that ached for days, and Jerry hated them. But now, faced with an life-or-death moment he was glad for having them. The only problem was the shoes being missing. The distance vertically from the bottom to the top of the waterfall was about a hundred feet, easily accessible for someone without a fear of heights and good climbing skills. But Jerry had two major liabilities; the absence of shoes and the mossy slippery stones. Then Jerry realized that his strength was waning as the cold of the water seeped into his bones. And so without a second thought, he began to climb. The toes and hands fighting for whatever room they had on the smooth rocks and moss. Jerry was about half way up when disaster struck. It was a particularly smooth section of the rock and when his right foot tried to gain purchase, the left foot slipped, causing Jerry to plummet. The sensation of falling was almost relieving to the exhausting climb, during which he was shivering. Right as he began wondering when the fall was going to end, he landed back first into the bog and slammed his left arm into a small piece of sharp rock. The pain
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,
The next story is of Colby Coombs, a 25 year old, who was vacationing in Alaska. He and his two climbing friends were caught up in an avalanche in Mt. Foraker. They were knocked 800 feet down the mountain. Coombs was knocked unconscious and woke up 6 hours later dangling from his rope. He had sustained a fractured ankle, a broken collar bone and two broken vertebrae in his neck. His 2 friends did not survive the avalanche. The next four days he struggled to climb down to their base camp and then traversed another five miles to cross a glacier before being rescued.
There are a few things in my life I could use to write a narrative off of, one that could really strike my mind would probably be snowboarding, not even just the aspect of snowboarding but how it is something you have the ability to do to and kind of use it as a coping mechanism, just something that lets you be at peace with yourself and not worry about anything else in the world. If you were to ask a skier or another snowboarder about the feeling I am talking about. The one where you are going up the lift for the first time of the year or even before you are about to have a nice run from the summit where you are just sitting at the top before you go down the mountain and you are just one with yourself and the mountain
“Throughout many years I have gained skill sets that got me to where I am today” Rob has looked upon his life as learning process. Rob explained that in his earlier years, during his quest for a sense of adventure and meaning in his life, he worked as a ski instructor in Park City, Utah. Rob’s day consisted of running the slopes as many times as he could while training people of all ages how to ski. At one point Rob set the world record for the downhill ski slalom during the time. However, the day after day tasks of skiing had gotten repetitive for Rob, as he began to lose insight on what he wanted to accomplish in life, and Rob knew he could not be a ski instructor forever. The countless days he had been sleeping in his car he started to think more and more about how Rob wanted to change his life. One day as he was looking upon the Wasatch Mountain Range contemplating life, Rob thought to himself “It’s time, It’s time to make a difference in my life, for better or for worse I need to change.” Rob felt like his adventure was just beginning with the many different challenges on the horizon that were about to face
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.
After a great night of sleep we headed out to the world renown mountain of Jackson Hole. It is known for being the steepest mountain on which a ski resort is set up. It is also know for having a great view of Grand Teton, one of the highest peaks in the Rocky Mountains. We could not have asked for a better day of riding. there was a fresh 14” of snow under our boards and after a little bit of exploring we found some great out of bounds and woods riding.
I knew taking this shortcut was a mistake, yet I didn't think I had enough strength to keep climbing this monumental cliff with the others. The humidity was affecting my vision and the ground now started to spin. The muscles in my legs felt
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.
It’s a work out on every bone is your body. The first day back on the mountain It doesn’t feel like much, the next day as soon as you wake up it feels like you are super sick you have a headache, your coughing, and every bone hurts just to move. But no matter how big of wreck I get in what ever happens to me I will always want to go. For me there is no better feeling in the world the sound of nature. On a certain tree trail about half through I stop you can hear anything the only thing you can see are trees covered in snow it’s the most beautiful thing I can ever see. I see some people on the mountain they are handicapped yet they still manage to go they have certain bikes and people following them making sure they are safe. So no matter what is going on going to the mountain isn’t just a sport its something they love todo they don’t get paid for it they have to pay for