I ran to the cafeteria after swiftly getting my backpack. It was a Thursday night after school, and that meant it was ski club day. While my friends discussed some slopes we might ski down at Ski Roundtop, I got my ski equipment. Of course, I thought skiing was fun and exciting. I never thought it could be so scary, especially after that night of skiing.
We were on the bus, and I was sitting, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. My friends and I were talking about what hills we would go on, and where we would meet up. I was fairly comfortable with many of them, until the more difficult hills like Ramrod and Gun Barrel were mentioned. We decided to meet up at one of my favorite hills, Fife and Drum. Finally we arrived, the snow was crisp, not to brittle or hard. After we went down Fife hill a few times, we decided to start going down more difficult ones like Minute Man and Susquehanna, which was a breeze for me. Then, everybody started to go to the Ram-Rod lift, and because I didn’t want to be alone, I followed them.
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It also was icy and creaky. On the way up, I saw the steepness of the two hardest slopes, Gun Barrel and Ramrod, and I anxiously asking if we were going down one of them. Of course I knew the answer was yes, but I didn’t want to believe it. When we got to the top, everybody was heading toward Ramrod. “Come on Josh, It’s pretty easy!”, declared all my friends before they started skiing. I nervously whispered that I would, but I found myself backing away from the steep hill after I looked down it. After seeing its resemblance to a cliff, I backed away to take an exit to an easier mountain. Until dinner, I skied
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
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.
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.
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.
Being a runner, I have long known that in order to keep a good pace the effort must increase with each step, and must never waiver in your understanding of the task at hand. With the last few steps to the summit, I felt a clam rush throughout the body knowing I had ascended the mountain. Looking to my left, I beheld a sea of endless green quickly dropping off with a line of trees in the background. The wind so gently swaying them back and forth as the various birds swooped around. However, with the run back down, the mountain teased with a nice descending path allowing me to recuperate the body, knowing I must return in order to get home.
After about half an hour my aunt and uncle left while we were still there though. My cousin found a ramp I counted about twenty feet up the hill from the ramp and put the snowboard down got my feet in the foot holders and pushed off and went off the ramp. When I fell I just got back up and ran
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
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.
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.
It was bumpy, ugly, rough and pebbly. No matter the setting I knew I could make this happen. A moment of silence approached. I hop in and “boom” I’m of the hill. Pressure through my face.
I was the first person to ski off of the chairlift that day; arriving at the summit of the Blackcomb Mountain, nestled in the heart of Whistler, Canada. It was the type of day when the clouds seemed to blanket the sky, leaving no clue that the sun, with its powerful light, even existed anymore. It was not snowing, but judging by the moist, musty, stale scent in the air, I realized it would be only a short time before the white flakes overtook the mountain. As I prepared myself to make the first run, I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. Somehow things seemed much different up here. The wind, nonexistent at the bottom, began to gust. Its cold bite found my nose and froze my toes. Its quick and sudden swirling movement kicked loose snow into my face, forcing me to zip my jacket over my chin. It is strange how the gray clouds, which seemed so far above me at the bottom, really did not appear that high anymore. As I gazed out over the landscape, the city below seemed unrecognizable. The enormous buildings which I had driven past earlier looked like dollhouses a child migh...
I thought going up that hill was a challenge, but I can tell you going back down was not easy either. Walking with that big white bucket filled with water I just don’t know how I did not fall down. We decided to take a short cut through an empty field that had low cut grass and barb wires at the entrance. The barb wires were placed so low that if you were not looking and paying attention you would have definitely cut your foot or ankles. Finally, we reached back to my place, I was glad to drop that white bucket on the ground and take a seat and cool off a little bit.