Ski Club

​The Ski Club at Indian River High School is most likely the best club that I will ever be a member of. During ski season in Northern New York, our group of twenty six bundled up, rosy cheeked students and teachers would pile into a bus every Saturday morning at seven before riding for two and a half hours to Mount Titus. Once we arrived, everybody would get their lift ticket before dividing into two groups; those who owned their skis and those who did not. Those who had their own equipmentwith them would head over to the lift of their choice and begin their day. Those who did not would go to the equipment center and grab all their gear.

​While on the mountain, brand new skiers were offered a free, hour-long lesson before they hit the slopes by themselves. During my lesson, my instructor taught me how to start, stop, turn, and get up when I fell down. From there, I taught myself how to slow down, speed up, and quickly get around obstacles that happened to cross my path, namely fallen people. 

​Nearly confining myself to the bunny hill, I almost spent the day learning how to ski in a safe area. It was just outside the equipment center and seemed incredibly short. Next to it was The Face, the steepest trail of the mountain, though certainly not the longest. I practiced getting on and off of the lift, while going down the little hill in between for the entire day as I watched my friends race along the trail next to me. Then and there, I decided to do something incredibly stupid.

​I can remember my exhilaration as I stepped onto a different lift that took me much farther up the mountain as one of my friends took the lift behind me, having decided to join me in my endeavor. Nearly falling when I got off, the lift smacked me in the back and nearly caused me to lose my balance, but I managed to stay upright. I got out of the way of my friend and we set off to find The Face.

​Feeling terrified, I stopped and looked down at the angleand distance I would have to cross after we had reached the top of The Face. Taking a deep breath, I plunged myself forwards and down. My friend raced ahead of me, snaking his way down the slope as the red and black pompoms on his hat flew in the wind he created. Other than that, all I can remember is my yelling.

​All of my terror began to ebb away like the tide as I felt myself slow down with the declination of the mountain and saw my vision focus itself once again. Maybe I shouldn't have relaxed so much, because the next thing I knew was that I had fallen over. Yes, I fell over and ate a mouthful of snow at the least dangerous part - the end. How exactly I managed that, I don't remember, but I'll always be glad it didn't scare me away from one of my favorite activities. 
Category: School

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