Me. Colorado. Mountains. Skiing. 12,510 feet. Nothing brings more enthusiasm than knowing you’re about to be carried over two miles in elevation by a rickety bench hanging from a cable, only to slide all the way down on a couple narrow strips of plastic. The entire experience of skiing creates an exhilarating sense of adrenaline beginning with the chair lift, standing at the top, and the trip down. At the base of the hill, I look up at the immensity before me. With my skis clicked in, my poles in my hand, I glide over the firmly packed snow to the chairlift. People wait anxiously; a portion, like myself, are impatient to complete another run; the rest is apprehensive to ski their first. Battling my way through the vicious horde to the loading
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The thought of accidentally dropping my poles enters my mind as I observe lost items in the snow below. As we ascend, more of the slope enters my field of vision. At first, the skiers and snowboarders in my view move at a leisurely pace as they reach the bottom; but as altitude increases, so does the skill and speed of the people coming down. The added elevation diminishes the number of trees providing protection from the bitter wind that starts hitting us like pins and needles. I pull my bandanna up and fit my goggles to the shape of my helmet, in an attempt to block out the frigid breeze. In spite of this, my mind is focused on the skiers and snowboarders racing their way down and I feel a rush as I replay past trips down in my head. As our chair becomes even with the surface of the peak, I slide off and turn toward the trail I’d planned to take. Though it’s freezing cold, I barely notice under the abundance of layers I’m wearing. The sun hides behind a thin layer of clouds, illuminating the sky just enough to savor the view, but just enough overcast to give it an enchanted feel. The horizon is lined with peaks from the east to the west and past as far as I can see. I take out my camera to capture the majesty, but when I gaze at the display, I realize it was a hopeless pursuit to fully capture the scene before
The thought of accidentally dropping my poles enters my mind as I observe lost items in the snow below. As we ascend, more of the slope enters my field of vision. At first, the skiers and snowboarders in my view move at a leisurely pace as they reach the bottom; but as altitude increases, so does the skill and speed of the people coming down. The added elevation diminishes the number of trees providing protection from the bitter wind that starts hitting us like pins and needles. I pull my bandanna up and fit my goggles to the shape of my helmet, in an attempt to block out the frigid breeze. In spite of this, my mind is focused on the skiers and snowboarders racing their way down and I feel a rush as I replay past trips down in my head. As our chair becomes even with the surface of the peak, I slide off and turn toward the trail I’d planned to take. Though it’s freezing cold, I barely notice under the abundance of layers I’m wearing. The sun hides behind a thin layer of clouds, illuminating the sky just enough to savor the view, but just enough overcast to give it an enchanted feel. The horizon is lined with peaks from the east to the west and past as far as I can see. I take out my camera to capture the majesty, but when I gaze at the display, I realize it was a hopeless pursuit to fully capture the scene before