Skiing
What compares to the feeling of soaring down steep slopes on two, small, parallel pieces of plastic? I always have thought that skiing trips provide a great deal of entertainment for me during Christmas vacations. Generally, my family travels to close, Midwest venues such as Sioux Falls, Mankato, or Dubuque. However, the Christmas vacation of my eighth grade year wasn’t exactly what I had become familiar with throughout the previous years. Pulling up to the Colorado ski resort I think to myself how different skiing on the steep slopes of a mountain is going to be compared to the moderate hills of the plains that I am used to.
I open the car door and, without warning, get smacked in the face by the cold, crisp air of the mountains. The pile of thick clothes falling off my lap reminds me that I need to bundle up in order to stay warm. After strapping on my bulky boots, I pull my skis out of the car and start trudging through the snow towards the cabin-like lodge where I will purchase the permit that will give me access to this massive, snow covered rock.
After purchasing the lift ticket, attaching my boots to my skis takes a few tries, but when I hear the “CLICK” I know they are finally ready for action. I begin gliding across the trampled snow towards the ski lift. Glancing up at the summit, I observe a few things that I didn’t notice before. Dark green patches of evergreens cover the mountain side with myriads of different sized white mazes weaving from the peak all the way to the bottom. Approaching the chariot that will carry me to the top, I also spot different colored specks racing down the bleached paths. I realize the specks are people, and that is going to be me very soon.
The chair lift is always a little intimidating and is a bit of a hassle. I must time the entrance perfectly because chairs are whipping around from behind me with abundant aggression. I wait for a chair to pass, and then I follow behind quickly and brace myself for the next chair,
I open the car door and, without warning, get smacked in the face by the cold, crisp air of the mountains. The pile of thick clothes falling off my lap reminds me that I need to bundle up in order to stay warm. After strapping on my bulky boots, I pull my skis out of the car and start trudging through the snow towards the cabin-like lodge where I will purchase the permit that will give me access to this massive, snow covered rock.
After purchasing the lift ticket, attaching my boots to my skis takes a few tries, but when I hear the “CLICK” I know they are finally ready for action. I begin gliding across the trampled snow towards the ski lift. Glancing up at the summit, I observe a few things that I didn’t notice before. Dark green patches of evergreens cover the mountain side with myriads of different sized white mazes weaving from the peak all the way to the bottom. Approaching the chariot that will carry me to the top, I also spot different colored specks racing down the bleached paths. I realize the specks are people, and that is going to be me very soon.
The chair lift is always a little intimidating and is a bit of a hassle. I must time the entrance perfectly because chairs are whipping around from behind me with abundant aggression. I wait for a chair to pass, and then I follow behind quickly and brace myself for the next chair,