“Ssssss,” whistled the sound of the bitter wind blowing by my ear while I snapped my boots into my skis. The sun was glistening, and the snow blanketed the ground perfectly. All around me I could hear adults chit chatting about the next run they wanted to try out and kids begging their parents to take them into the lodge to warm up after a long day of skiing. It was a great day so far; my parents, sisters and I had spent our whole morning and afternoon on the ski hill trying out different runs. We had just taken a break to go into the lodge to have some pizza and hot chocolate. It was near the end of the day, so after taking the quick break, my mom and sisters were tired and decided that they were done. Since we had already gone down most of …show more content…
all by myself. Like my dad had explained to me, I started to make my way down the long, steep hill very carefully. I kept doing slow turn after slow turn, again and again. The texture of the ground beneath me kept changing with every inch I moved. It would change from soothing, powdery snow, to nerve-wrecking ice patches. The fear that I had once experienced was now gone, and I realized I was actually enjoying this. I felt a rush of excitement going through me, like it was blasting all over. I could see my dad through the corner of my eye and he had the biggest smile on his face. It made me so happy to know that I was making him proud. After that, going down the rest of the hill was a piece of cake. I had no more fear, and thus no problem making it down.
Before I knew it, I was done, the run was done, everything was done. I could hear my mom and sisters cheering and clapping when I reached the bottom of the hill. I could also hear my dad cheering from behind me. Everyone was beyond excited for me, as I was for myself. The feeling was amazing, knowing that I accomplished something that I never thought I would be able to do. After it was all said and over with, my dad and I joined the rest of our family by unsnapping our boots from our skis, taking off our
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby.
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
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
“Here goes nothing,” I thought to myself before I skied toward the jump. I sped toward the jump remembering what Trevor had told me. I soared through the air with my neon green pants flapping in the air. As my skis touched down, I bent my knees and realized I had landed the jump. My Dad skied to Trevor and I, and I found out that my dad had recorded it so I could re-live the moment. I was super excited they had caught my success on tape! Soon after I landed the jump, it was time to leave
The third time I wanted so bad to get up, I yelled “Ready.” I felt the water rushing against my face, the pressure on my back foot, I was up. I leaned back and felt the water rushing against my calf the breeze against my face as I cut across the wake making a huge rooster tail. It was freedom. I felt like I could stay like this forever. I was so overjoyed. I cut too the left, then too the right, but Soon I got exhausted and let go. I exclaimed “I did it!”
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.
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.
Looking upon the huge hill, a great, enormous, mass of snow, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the hill. It was my first blue square course, an intermediate level. I felt thrilled, excited, scared,
then pushed myself up the hill, to the nearest ski lift. My older brother, Tyler, had already gone ahead of me, so I was even more rushed. I entered the line and made sure that I had my ID card dangling over my neck. After the staff scanned my card, I sat on the ski lift and got ready for a 20 minute long trip up the mountain. I could see my brother almost ten ski lifts ahead, and I tried calling him. I could tell that the man I was sharing the ski lift with was getting a little annoyed with my loudness, so after a while I sat still and kept my mouth shut. I shivered. The snow was falling as hard as ever. I decided that after skiing down Olympic Trail, I would go back to the lodge and drink
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.
The huge smile I had on my face was unbelievable. My dad said, “I was like a kid in the candy store”, with my big smile. I was so pumped all I wanted to do was rope after that and of course I’m spoiled so I got what I wanted.
I also worried that I might fly off the tracks and head straight into the woods. In this paper, I will Introduce my adversity and tell you how I learned to ski. I was always worried about learning to ski and the dangers that went along with it. I could not go down the runs the same way as everyone else did. My friends would fly dangerously down the runs while I would be far behind them slowly inching my way while my heart raced.
We arrive at the boat ramp and back the jet ski into the lake and tie it to a near by pole to stop it from floating away while dad drives the car out of the water and parks it near by. We find a nice place to set day shaded by two tall trees that lead down to a nice flat are just off the lake. My parents set up our portable BBQ and start to prepare food for lunch while I try to find a life jacket that actually fits me so I am able to go on the jet ski, after having to run back to camp and get one I am finally ready to go, I walk off towards the jet ski ready for the thrill ride I am about to take when I hear a loud call of my name, I turn around and see my mum holding up a bottle of sunscreen. I jog back to mum and get covered up in it from head to toe. Once I’m at the Jet Ski
I’ll never forget that first day on the mountain it was the day that sparked my love for skiing. Ever since then I’ve tried to go skiing as much as I possibly can, although school tends to get in the way of that plan. The thing I like the most about skiing is the fact that I can go as fast as I want down the mountain, as long as there aren’t any rangers around, without having to worry about anything except maintaining control. Every year I have pushed myself to go faster and faster so far the fastest I have ever gone is sixty two miles an hour. For the past thirteen years skiing has been one of my favorite activities and I urge anyone who is thinking about trying it to just do it, it does seem hard at first but once you get the hang of it you might become