Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. I could hear the skier's’ skis making noise as they were heading down the mountain. Madyn and I were going up the chairlift shivering. I could see my breath from the cold air. I could hear snow falling from the trees because the branches could not hold the weight anymore. My nose was stuffy and I saw snow covering every inch of space. I could see skiers going over rocks and moguls and thought to myself, “Wow, they are good.” Madyn was struggling to put on her glove and then a few seconds later she dropped her glove and she screamed “Noooo my glove”. After we get off the chairlift, we try to figure out what trail she dropped her glove on. Then after a few seconds of thinking what trail did we pass on the way up, it …show more content…
When we reached the top of Stein's, I looked down and it was steep. We thought about waiting for my dad and sister. We waited for about ten minutes and no sign of my dad. Oh no! The worst part was that there was barely anybody on the this trail. Only about eight people. I slightly looked down the trail and saw the wind blowing, picking up some of the snow. I also saw small ice chunks skittering down the trail. I was a bit nervous, but I was ready. I had no choice. Madyn went down first and I followed her. I was going down at a good speed when I saw a huge clump of snow that I really wanted to jump off. But then I immediately started to slow down because I realized that this snow clump was a huge rock covered in thin ice with snow over it. It was too late. I hit the rock and Bang! I hit the ground really hard. Madyn had watched me fall. I got up and snow was on my goggles and snow was down my ski pants. Burrrrr! Then I realized both skis were gone. I saw one ski sticking in the snow. But I had no idea where the other one was. Madyn and I were searching and searching but no sign until a lady coming down the trail stops and asks “Are you girls alright?” I told her I lost my ski and she was nice enough to stay and help
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.
That thing was probably the most horrible thing I have ever seen. I have never been in contact with such a space consuming thing. It moved with a lack of elegance and fluidity. Snowboarders are probably the most annoying people on the earth. Don’t we have enough board related sports? Who had even invented the art of snowboarding? I had first learned to ski at the age of six, and had never even thought of learning how to snowboard. I was even annoyed at other snowboarder’s presence on the slopes and their laid back way of life. All I knew was skiing, and I loved it. When I asked my family what they thought about my skiing they said that I had a certain unique touch to it. Ever since I had learned how to ski, I had just wanted to get better and I was
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
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
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
80 countries have some form of ski area. Also, for the past 4 years skier visits have been estimated at around 400 million. Alpine, Cross-country and telemark are all types of skiing and at least one of them is likely to interest anyone.
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.
Snowboarding, one of the hardest snowsport to learn but easy to master, it's also one of the most enjoyable snowsport on the planet. Even though it’s fun, you can really injure yourself if your not careful. In this narrative you’ll witness the pain I had to go through trying to learn snowboarding but also witness me mastering this incredible sport. It was a cool afternoon in the frosty month of January, the time was around 5:30 pm and my dad just dropped me off at Snow Valley hill in his black Mitsubishi Lancer. I took my blueish green Burton Custom snowboard from the back of the car, grabbed my helmet, gloves, jacket and snowpants and went to the bottom of the hill. There I placed my board on the soft snow and put on my gear. I was wearing a blue jacket with dark
Sledding is a childhood experience full of laughter and excitement. From the first time a child is pulled in a sled to the time when they attempt their first crazy sledding feat, wonderful memories are being created. Sometimes these memories blur together like snowflakes in a January wind. Happy memories with forgotten details, but still leading to the same ending; delight. Most of my sledding memories were like this; running through backyards and flying down hills. Sometimes however, memories are not always delightful. One memory in particular fell into that category.
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.
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
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 cannot close ourselves off to information and ignore the fact that millions of people are out there suffering. I honestly want to help. I don't believe I feel differently from other people. I think we all want justice and equality, a chance for a life with meaning. All of us would like to believe that if we were in a bad situation someone would help us."
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.