Throughout my life I have found peace and serenity in going to the mountain to ski. Even if there wasn't snow, I still find it to be a calm and relaxing place. I wake up in the mornings knowing that the day will be long but will be totally worth it. When I get stressed I ski letting reality slip away from me like the skis on snow. The feeling this gives me is a rush of pleasure and stimulation. Everyday i go to the mountain looking for that sense of pleasure but it may only occur during certain times but till then i am in search for that feeling.
I sit in the kitchen with my gear on thinking about the day. I look out the window and see the snow falling from the sky. Little white specks glistening in the air. Drifting aimlessly throughout the
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I throw my gear on and step outside. Holding one ski in each hand i let them slip out of my hand knowing gravity will do the rest. The fall to the ground assuming their position. I approach the skis and put my ski boot into the binding. Stepping down and hearing the SNAP of the binding locking my boot into place reassuring me my foot won't fall out unless necessary. I look up at the mountain seeing the freshly groomed cat tracks. The snow packed firm all in lines lie corduroy. I see the lifts running spinning around and around on its never ending cycle. The lift operator brushing the snow that has found its way onto the seat of the chairlift. The smell of machinery and freshly fallen snow drift through the air. The sun comes out of the clouds every once and awhile just to hide again behind another cloud. I pull my goggles over my face opening my eyes once they are on showing me the world in a whole new color. They give the blank white snow a red orange tint it makes everything look warm and nice. I look at the lift i wanna go to and start skating towards it hearing the shifting of the snow underneath my skis giving a bit of a crunch sound every time i push away from it. I approach the lift and take out my pass. He scans it with his gun. I hop on the lift waiting for it to take me to the other
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.
It was similar to the suburban street I grew up on, but in lieu of cookie-cutter houses with stale Bermuda grass, there stood wood cabins with yards covered in snow. The reddish-orange light emanating from the towering street lights pierced through a white fog and gently illuminated the area. Exiting the car, I was overwhelmed with a flurry of new sensations. The gently falling snow absorbed all of the sounds I was used to hearing in a residential area.The low hum of passing cars, birds singing from the trees, and the sound of blowing wind appeared to be muffled, even silenced, by the steady falling snow. I felt enveloped in a cool, but somehow familiar blanket. The smell of burning wood was coming from every direction, as each house I looked at had a thin, grayish plume rising gently from the chimney. The plumes represented the warmth and comfort of the many people I imagined to be nestled by the fire. Looking down the street, I noticed how freshly plowed it was. A thin layer of snow and ice-- like icing on a cupcake, or the glass top on my parent’s nightstand-- covered the street. But on the side of the street sat a pile of snow that could have swallowed me alive. Feeling taunted, I stood there and weighed my options. Chest deep mounds of frozen crystals begged me to dive in and lose myself. Preparing to succumb to the temptations before me, I was momentarily hindered by the fear of my parent’s wrath. But had that ever stopped me
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.
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 looked into the man’s eyes. He didn’t look familiar; I had never encountered anyone looking like this before. It seemed that the man had enough, and was going to throw me out any second, when the ski lift started moving again. We were now a few feet away from the station. I slid on to the snow and skied away from the man as fast as I could. I looked behind me. The man was snowboarding towards me, but I was much faster. I dodged, slid, turned, and skied past people, traveling at my highest speed, when I crashed into one of the caution signs standing on the snow. I tumbled down the mountain. One of my skis had gotten caught, so I climbed up with my snow boots on, hastily put them on, and started skiing down the “expert only” trail, thinking that this would probably throw the man
The second day after a campfire and good night sleep I started to get more comfortable. I had gone on one blue but I still wasn’t ready for a harder one.“I’m still not ready”, I said. “That's okay you will get there.” My mom had said. Every day we got up early to get out early. I had fallen over 200 times. I was frustrated by the freezing cold snow and the snow blowers making it unable to see through my goggles. At least the snow was slushy from the sun. I felt ready to
...elieved to feel anything again. We stand still only for a moment to see where we have come. Snow covers everything for as far as we can see glistening in afternoon sunlight. We hear the song of a bird and see a red cardinal perched on a blue spruce against a backdrop of blue sky that reaches all the way to the blanket of snow. Becca begins to cry.
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.
"Make sure you don't go too fast, and don't do too big of a fall!" he shrieks as rides. I'm scared to death but, my eyes somehow droop. Two weeks ago, I skied blue. The snow looked like a drop straight down, a death sentence. But when I skied down I had no fear, skiing was regular, and now I also know the hill did not go straight down, even if it seems to. As my eyes open again, I know that I can do it.
I step into the cold, chilling air letting the wind brush against my face as I look around and see what is before me. I look into the distance and see rolling mountains dancing across the scenery. They are painted in mesmeric reds and different shades of orange all reminding me of an enthralling sunset. Snow falls, literally everywhere covering these rocks not revealing how massive they truly are. The whole scene reminds me of a Christmas card. It captivates your soul. I had was one single destination on my mind and I took a chance and it led me to Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Unsure of his exact location, cold and growing weary he started his tedious climb up what he thought was the northern side of the peak, he was unsure how he got to where he was, but his best guess was that when he was the origin of a small avalanche. His last memory before his startling awakening in his would be snowy grave was snowboarding. It had been just after lunch and he thought he would try some new terrain. He laced up his snowshoes, and proceeded to climb to the highest point of the mountain.
The snow was plain and white, frozen in a sheet of plastic. It suffocated the rolling hills and chilled every tree branch to the bone. It was an old snow, aged with speckles of dirt. Everyday, the sun would arrive in all its glory, pouring out light and warmth to spread across the earth.
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.
The cold wind whipped across my face leaving its bright red mark behind. I shuddered at the cold and gripped my ski poles tighter with my frozen hands as I willed the ski lift to move faster than its current slow crawl. I looked to my right to see my older brother and dad hunched over trying to conserve their own warmth. For what felt like the fifty millionth time I chastised myself for agreeing to attempt the run ahead. I peered through the fog at the run that fell below.
Challenge plays an essential role in defining a sport; it provides the individual with the feeling of achievement in success. Skiing poses challenge even in its simplest foundations. Skiing on a poor quality hill, with icy snow and poor upkeep can sometimes create more challenge than a well-groomed slope. Skiing in the backcountry away from lifts and other people in freshly fallen snow provides an opportunity for the best of skiers to test t...