Every winter my father and I have our annual ski trip to Sunday River, a large mountain in Newry, Maine. This was my favorite time of year because I got to go skiing with my dad on this huge mountain and experience all different types of trails and terrain. From a young age, I started going to Sunday River with my family. My brother would always come up and do all the trails along with the rest of my family but there was one I was kept from doing every year. This trail is known at Sunday River as the infamous White Heat. I never really wanted to do it either actually as it was extremely steep, curvy and had little bumps all over it. The wind up at the top and towards the middle section was so strong it could affect your speed and the snow and ice whipping in your face were …show more content…
I was so intimidated by this trail, no one could convince me to do it until 7th grade came.
Cold, sunny and extremely windy are all words to describe the morning I conquered White Heat. The wind on the mountain was working against me as it blew all the nice puffy powder from the night before off the trail. I could have come up with many excuses as to why I wouldn't do the trail that morning but I made a pact with my father and his friend that I would indeed ski the trail and wouldn't back out. As I strapped my skis on and put my goggles on I knew that this was it, this was the time. The three of us ski down to the chairlift and board the lift which only takes you to this one trail, there is no other way out. My heart was pounding and my head was thinking about everything that could go wrong. Keep in mind, many people who have gone up this chairlift
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
It was going to be the time of our lives. Four buddies of mine and I went out to Jackson, Wyoming to do some of the best snowboarding of our lives. It was our chance to get away from home for a week and have the best time of our lives. The trip out there was extremely boring driving through Iowa, Nebraska, and Wyoming. Possibly the three most boring states in the country.
Riding down Pikes Peak was one of the best adventures I have ever had, however, it was horrifying at times. Our whole vacation in Colorado was full of adventure. We rode ATVs, went white water rafting, but the best part was riding a bike down Pikes Peak. This was an exhilarating adventure I will never
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,
A few winters ago, some friends invited my family and me to go snow skiing at Paoli Peaks, Indiana. I did not know how to snow ski, and I leaped at the thought of trying this new sport. On the first morning we entered the pro shop to rent all the gear and make decisions about whether or not to take lessons or go it alone. We decided to be adventurous and go it alone—no lessons. Kent and Celeste, the friends who invited us, knew how to ski and snowboard. He assured us that he could show us the basics, and we would be on our way down the slopes. All of us, after a few minutes learning how to wedge our skis started down the family trail. Although the family trail had smaller hills and appeared safe, to me it seemed way
As we were climbing up the hill, I looked around to notice how green the lightly damp grass was, how beautiful the tall trees were, and how fast those snow clouds were moving above us. We got one elk on this adventure, so we decided we would pack up our stuff and head back home. As the white GMC reached the summit of Red Mountain Pass, I looked back to Silverton to see nothing but snow falling from the nearly black clouds in the sky, and I thought to myself--let it snow.
Taken a 10-mile uphill hike in the blistering heat to reach the top of a waterfall, then cliff-dived off said waterfall
I was in a lake house in lake Gaston with my family. With my dad and my brother. My Brother was 17 and my dad was 39.
Several years ago, it was an early Christmas morning at my Grandparents house. The sun was pouring through the windows and the smell of breakfast still hung in the air. The setting was optimal for a great day of happy memories that would only be recalled in short term. What was to follow was anything but a short term memory. Sledding at Indian Hill had been a family tradition. This menacing hill seemed to slope straight down and I can remember standing at the bottom and feeling like I was about to embark a three day hike up a mountain. Looking back on it now, I am not even sure that it was that steep. But at seven, this monstrous hill was like a mortal enemy.
“Come on, “ my counselor Emily screamed from shore. The quick rapids made it very difficult to dig our paddles into the river. My cabin was stopping to eat lunch on our Tuesday canoeing trip. On Saturday, we had traveled down to Brownstown, Indiana for a week full of friends, fun, and God. My church stayed at a retreat center called Pyoca. Every year on Tuesday, we would go on a canoeing or rafting trip depending on the water levels. Emily, Annabelle, my canoeing partner, and I sat along the sand bank waiting for other canoes to come in. Many other groups slowly went by, while we patiently waited for other groups to come in. I was so hungry, I couldn’t wait. Canoeing had zapped all of my energy, and had made me really hungry. I began to quickly wade out into the river, so I could help the other canoes come in faster. Someone screamed, “Be careful” from the bank. Nate Epple, a counselor of
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
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.
We get warmed up on this hill and are ready to go on some bigger slopes. The Hemlock, the biggest hill at Timber Ridge, I had never done this hill but I was ready today. We board over to the lift and head up. I’m a little nervous but at the same time I was more confident in my snowboarding abilities than ever. I strap myself in at the top of the hill and prepare for the massive hill. Apparently I was not paying enough attention to the terrain because I go down the same side as the moguls. As a younger man these moguls looked colossal to me. I somehow make it through the moguls and pick up speed towards the end of the hill. I was going too fast and did not want to fly into anybody or onto the frozen pond. I panic and take a leap of faith into the ground. “FEWWWW”, I’m alright and feeling pretty good about myself for not actually falling on the hill. My confidence is pretty high at this point so we go to the terrain park. The beginner park is called the pumpkin patch. You take a tow rope up the hill not a lift. I grab the rope as it yanks me up the hill. At the top I survey the hill. There is 2 grinds, a few jumps and some other things that I was not sure what they were. I start down the hill and go for the wide grind. I miraculously don’t bust my head on the grind, next was a jump I go off it and fall when I land. This is pretty normal I’m told since it’s my first time on the terrain park. I practice a bunch more times and get decent at the
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.