It was like a blizzard outside. My body was as cold as liquid nitrogen, and I was as scared as prey running from the lion. The bottom of the mountain was starting to disappear in the white abyss, almost making everything look like a blank canvas, waiting for a artist to paint on it.
“How am I going to prevent running into a tree?” I told my dad. “Everything is hidden by the falling snow, and they even didn’t turn on the lights!”
“Just stay next to the chair lift.” said my father, a million times calmer than I was. I looked up, and saw that fewer skiers were coming up. That was reassuring. “Don’t sweat it, Bryce.”
“Can I just go with Travis?”
“No.”
“PLEASE?”
“No.” I gulped. It’s like mother nature wanted to make my life harder, because the wind started to speed up. My eight year old eyes looked at my father’s with fear. I really didn’t want to go down this slope, it being the
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“When I was your age, I was going down mountains twice as steep as this.”
“Okay…” I said, with a bit of fear in my voice. I saw people skiing down the hill, and shouting that this slope was the best in the park. That made me snap, and I pushed myself over the crest of the hill, and I started my journey down.
I was going much faster than I expected. It seemed like I was a car on the highway, weaving back and forth through the other skiers. I looked behind me and saw my Dad for a split second as he whizzed by me. Show off. With the wind blowing in my face, it making a deafening noise as it picked up speed as I picked up speed. I suddenly felt accomplishment in myself as I whizzed by another skier. I also could latter spend hours bragging to my brother saying that I went down the hardest, steepest slope in the entire park. Suddenly, I reached the bottom and it was like the heavens opened up. The clouds went away as the blizzard went to torment other people, and the sun shined on my face, as water from melting snow trickled down my
“In high school, the kids who didn't carry their own skis called their parents to bring in assignments they'd forgotten or to ask for a ride home instead of walking or taking the late bus.”
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 always felt that I had to know or believe something with certainty. Not so now. I’ve come to realize how little I know about anything. With snowboarding that’s the point I most understand. It’s just when you think you’ve got it under control that the board goes out from under you, and you discover yourself sloshing in the congealed icy mush. Suspending judgement and having fun at the same time and being confident and assertive balances me, and I ascertain an equilibrium. Achieving balance, however, is a constantly mercurial endeavor. If you’re too careful, you’ll never carve the slopes, and if you’re not careful enough, you’ll lose the edge, and forces beyond your control will sling you into the trees or off the slope completely. I’m not anticipating all gloom and melancholy depression with all the snow and barren, gray trees standing stark against the aging night. In fact, anytime I strap on a snowboard and point it downhill, I feel the life force of fun and I can’t stop smiling. It’s just fun—there might not be a better word. On the next slope, should I go it alone? Bringing my favorite people along with me will be the greatest
I was afraid at first; I had heard many over-exaggerated stories from people who had claimed foul play, on the part of gravity, while skiing. So naturally I was a bit skeptical, but Michael assured me that the best way to learn was to just go all out and try my luck on one of the many intermediate slopes. At the time it had sounded reasonable, so I did. I've heard it said before; "It's easier said than done." Whoever coined that one knew what he was talking about.
Dad said, “We were lousy.” He chickened out at the top of the downhill. “We had to stand up there, all cold and holding our poles close, and then just throw ourselves down. We got so stiff, and it hurt so bad.”
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
I am frequently faced with the challenge to work hard on the mountain, especially on the difficult terrain to which I subject myself. I learn how to tackle the hard work ahead of me with a predetermined game plan, and I have come to value the joy of overcoming the obstacles. Knowing that your hard work has resulted in surmounting a tough challenge is very rewarding. My main goal as a skier is learning the skills to conquer any terrain on the mountain. In this process I come face to face with terrain that requires me to dig deep and face my fears. Surely this discipline on the mountain has rubbed off, because I find myself not afraid to attempt a challenge that others may find daunting. I trust my skills, and I know that “the only thing to fear is fear itself”. It is imperative that skiers learn to overcome fears that impede them from skiing down the terrain. I can confidently say that with the hard work I have put in I have conquered my fears on and off the
Digging into the snow with my boots while stabilizing my body with the uninjured arm, I inch across the hill, lose my foothold, and plummet downward.
I crest the hill, and push onward down the path towards the road. I hear Steve’s labored breathing to my right just as another gust of cold wind blasts my face, lifting with it a plume of snow from the knee-deep drifts we are plowing through. Up ahead I see the road with cars swishing past, throwing up black slush and water. Thirty five miles an hour. I am only doing five.
It’s a beautiful morning, the air crisp and clean, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature cool but not cold. A perfect day for skiing. I take a deep breath in and hold it, smiling at the smells of pine, snow, and fresh air. I love fresh air. I reflect on this as we, my friends and I, move up the mountain on the (five person) chairlift. We’re at Huntington, the local ski mountain not twenty minutes away from where we live, Genoa, a neighboring town of Tahoe. Every weekend, my friends and I come here to get away from the stress of school and to relax. My friends are chattering away as I fade in and out of the conversation. Then something Lizzie says catches me.
It was a frosty day with temperatures at below negative two Celsius at the resort. At first glance outside the window, the snow piled up on the edges of the balcony. The wind was ferocious, slamming into the windows. I woke up to the screaming winds, eagerly waiting to a new day even if the scene outside proved other than that. Nobody could have been more excited than me. This would be my first time skiing, having the fun of a lifetime, forgetting about unfinished projects and disastrous test scores. Life could only get better today, what could go wrong? The answer was everything.
“Slow down!” my mom yelled at me; however, I couldn’t. I just kept accelerating down the hill with no end in sight. I was trying everything I could, but my skis wouldn’t listen to me. Then suddenly... Crash! Bang! I tumbled on the hard snow in order to avoid the net coming increasingly close to me.
I had heard the weather was calling for dry powdery snow in large quantities. Knowing that I had never experienced a powder day to that point, I was skeptical about the predicted weather. My doubts however were put down as we woke up the next day to see over a foot of new powdery snow fall. As we hit the slopes I noticed instantly that the powdery surface was new to me. You couldn’t cut as sharp and the skis didn’t bite until they hit the packed snow that was a foot below. As you skied you had to concentrate more on your foot placement so that you wouldn’t cross your skis, you also had to lift the back of your skis to make the edge press down further into the powdery surface. Being exhausted on my first run and trying to get used to the new surface, I did not know if I liked the type of snow everyone talked
We went inside the lodge performing the usual procedure, filling out the paper work, and purchasing admission and lift tickets. We got fitted for our shoes and snowboard which built up all of my excitement, knowing that I was almost there. Everybody seemed ready to go with their snowboard in hand, jackets all zipped up, boots tied tightly to the feet m...
I have never had such an amazing and beautiful experience. I swiftly shredded through the cotton like snow, moving from right to left as I made my way to the bottom. With the view of the breathtaking mountains at my ever angle, it became very distracting, even to the point of crashing. As we reached the bottom, I was already heading towards the ski lift to give it another go. But from then on, I made sure to wear my goggles. Having the goggles on allowed me to focus on what is in front of me and not around. Throughout the day, whenever I fell down, Matilda was always there to put me on my feet again. I had such a good time that day; I was really wishing to press a rewind button and start