Three miles through the thick brush of Slana Alaska, my ski group comes to the largest hill on a six-mile ski course. The first to go down falls at the end, where the big hill merges into a small one. Now my turn comes. A thousand thoughts are rushing through my mind, including the preposterous ones like I’m going to die, I’ll break a bone, and ideas of that sort. After about 30 seconds of my teacher repeating that I can come down I forget the speculations I was making. I stab my hot pink ski poles into the sticky snow and propel myself forward down the hill. I struggle to get up the smaller hill and end up falling. Not able to get back up, I start to crawl like an animal and finally get back to my feet. Once everyone made it down we continued along the trail.
The ski course continued to wind through the dense woods and everyone grew weary. We all just wanted to be back to Slana School, the place where we’d been staying. Some of the students didn’t have warm enough clothing to defend themselves against the vicious wind Mother Nature cast upon us. Almost everyone was fed up with skiing.
While trudging through the winding trail my ski fell off and I had to stop to fix it. By doing so I lagged behind the fast group and became a part of the slower group. Since I was faster than them I went ahead trying to catch up to the fast group. I was a long ways ahead of them and found myself scared that I may have taken the wrong trail for two reasons: one I couldn’t hear anyone at all and two, the trail wasn’t packed down much. The feeling of being lost is pretty terrible. However, that feeling vanished once I caught up to my classmates.
After about an hour and a half later we were back to the trail head and off to the school to rest. Though our group of skiers suffered through great pain, most of us ended up having a wonderful skiing experience that we’ll remember the rest of our lives.
The ski course continued to wind through the dense woods and everyone grew weary. We all just wanted to be back to Slana School, the place where we’d been staying. Some of the students didn’t have warm enough clothing to defend themselves against the vicious wind Mother Nature cast upon us. Almost everyone was fed up with skiing.
While trudging through the winding trail my ski fell off and I had to stop to fix it. By doing so I lagged behind the fast group and became a part of the slower group. Since I was faster than them I went ahead trying to catch up to the fast group. I was a long ways ahead of them and found myself scared that I may have taken the wrong trail for two reasons: one I couldn’t hear anyone at all and two, the trail wasn’t packed down much. The feeling of being lost is pretty terrible. However, that feeling vanished once I caught up to my classmates.
After about an hour and a half later we were back to the trail head and off to the school to rest. Though our group of skiers suffered through great pain, most of us ended up having a wonderful skiing experience that we’ll remember the rest of our lives.