Alone with the Mountain

I wrote this as a descriptive writing exercise in high school. The year was 1989.

As I waited on the lift line, my stomach was in knots from anticipation. I kept straining to find the top of the mountain, but all I could find was a cable carrying chairs from the lift line into an eternity of fog. The fog seemed to devour each chair as it rose to the top and I knew that soon it would be me who was consumed.

Finally, a chair approached and it was my turn to traverse the mountainside. Alone I escalated closer and closer to the fog feeling more and more lonely with each passing moment. The wind was relatively calm, but the moisture in the passing breeze cut through me painfully. I looked back for a moment to see a gorgeous skyline in the distance – snow covered mountaintops etched perfectly on a gloomy, gray sky. As I looked forward again, I noticed myself being engulfed in the monster fog and suddenly was unable to see more than thirty or forty feet ahead of me. “Eaten by a giant cotton ball,” I thought to myself. Now there’s a though that cheered me up (at least for the moment.) After climbing for a few more minutes, I felt some light snowflakes falling and the snowfall increased as I approached the summit.

As the lift was nearing its final destination I rose above the fog line and was shocked to see an intense sunlight blazing from a perfectly blue sky! While others looked outside their homes and decided that bad weather was upon us, I challenged Mother Nature and found a gift waiting for me atop this mountain. I looked around the summit and the image was vividly captured in my mind forever. I looked about to see an immense spider webbing of trails dropping off the mountain in every direction. Separating the slopes were groups of snow and ice covered trees and rocks hibernating under the warm, white winter blanket. The snow and ice glittered off these skeletal forms and embossed a beautiful memory in all that were lucky enough to see it.

About thirty-five minutes after looking up the mountain, never to see the top, I was now there and the sun was bright and bold. I got off the lift and began to glide through the fresh powder of the morning. I felt as if I was in heaven! The snow conditions were about the best I’d ever experienced with a nice base of packed powder and several inches of light, fresh powder in top. I went over to the posted trial map to examine my choices. After looking over the map for a few moments, I chose an area of trails called “Sunbrook.” These trails went off down the back of the mountain and then corkscrewed some of the way around towards the front. To get into the “Sunbrook” area, I chose a trail called “Moonwalk.” I started to make my way down this gradually sloping trail and I suddenly realized why they called this area “Sunbrook.” All around me were frozen trees and powdered snow blazing in the sunshine. There weren’t any people around me and the trail ahead appeared to go on forever. I felt as if I had just been dropped into a painting of a snow-covered mountainside. I continued at a peacefully slow pace, looking around at the beautiful landscape and it seemed like I would never reach the bottom.

While the trail itself was beautiful, the trees off to the side were enticing me to meander within them. They had many zigs and zags within them and an entirely new dimension of skiing to offer me. I accepted their bribe and weaved into their puzzling patterns. The snow was smooth and untouched as I expertly maneuvered within the trees’ obstacles. I enjoyed the challenge for a few minutes and then proceeded back to the main trail where the sun, slightly above the horizon, was framed within the trail boundaries.

After a total of about fifteen minutes, I saw the trail’s end in the distance. After gliding down the final feet of the slope, I approached a very lonely looking lift attendant reading a book. We exchanged short greetings and I hopped onto the lift for another run.

A natural high came over me, giving me the feeling that I could do anything. While on the lift, I decided to challenge that good feeling. I was going to finally suck it up and challenge one of the toughest trails on the mountain. This trail was appropriately named, “Jaws of Death.” It second only to the steepest slope in the area called, “Ripcord.” The traditional home of a Mogul Competition, Ripcord was closed to prepare for the following week’s event. The incline of Ripcord is a nice, round 45 degrees. The slope I was planning to challenge was a mere 42 degrees and contained more moguls than an adolescent with bad acne. I later became very intimate with this slope and have since referred to him as simply, “Jaws.”

At the mountain’s summit, I guided myself to the top of Jaws and peered over the edge. A skier was on her way down, gracefully conquering each and every mogul. She took each mogul and seemed to flatten it as she moved down this treacherous slope. A crowd of six or seven had gathered at the bottom to watch her successfully tame the beast. I noticed that a crowd would always gather during the rare moment that a skier would risk all against these monsters of nature.

After watching her display, I felt Jaws look up at me and smile. “Let’s see what you can do,” he seemed to taunt at me. I felt his threat and his danger, but I also knew that I could not back down to him. The challenge had been offered and accepted; truly my fate was sealed. Deciding that it was now or never, I put on my sunglasses, clutched my poles, and sent myself plunging over the edge of the mountaintop into an infinity of imagination. I felt confident, strong and spiteful towards Jaws. I desperately wanted to put him back in his place. “Jaws cannot beat me,” I thought as I expertly maneuvered myself down, taking each mogul as easily as I could. It was now my turn to tame the beast. My confidence was high, my skiing was and my graceful display thus far was destine to make this the best run of my life.

But then I began to get cocky, showing of my aerial skills on the way. I did some things I never really thought I could, but I guess I took it a bit too far. Just as Jaws was reluctantly giving in to my flawless skiing, I hit a mogul wrong. After a moment of air, I landed dead on top of another mogul. I landed with a dull thud and my body collapsed instantly like a puppet. For a short moment my motor skills seemed to be lost and my breathing was difficult. I slowly gathered my bearings and got to my feet. My back felt as though it had been shortened an inch or two and I was terribly stiff, but the physical pain was nothing. My emotional loss to Jaws was unbearable. That cold feeling that engulfed me in the early morning gray was back and I felt vanquished. Jaws began bellowing deep laughter in disgust at my lowly attempts to beat him. I was down, but not yet out. I would not allow one, small setback such as this to ruin me dream of victory. I smiled back at Jaws. “I’ll be back soon,” I said to him. I could feel him shudder at my unexpected comment. His fear was obvious and he secretly hoped I would not return.

I took a short break for lunch and physical recovery. After refueling, I proceeded directly to the lift that would position me atop the beast’s lair. Once there I wasted no time in beginning my glorious run down the mountain. I wanted to show Jaws my confidence and enduring attitude. Jaws was taken aback and obviously impressed by my persistence and skill. I continued my run as I had before, still being somewhat cocky, but this time with a wise eye. I showed my aerial abilities to the crowd below only when I was completely sure that I could. Before I knew it, I was flying spread-eagle over the final mogul and stopped next to the crowd of about ten who had gathered to watch.

I paid no attention to the crowd as I turned back to look at Jaws. He had been defeated, but was no less threatening then before. “Until next time,” I said aloud, smiling at Jaws. “I’ll be ready,” I heard him respond with a newfound respect and the usual challenge. Then I turned and skied gently past the crowd and headed for my next run. I’m sure that someone heard me talking to the mountain and thought that I was crazy. But then again, if they had gotten to know him like I did, they would understand.

Mother Nature had on this day provided me with one of the most memorable experiences of my life. She showed me her gentle and tranquil demure that soothed me, and attempted to tear it away with the instinctual desire to conquer. Having seen both sides of her, I have earned a deep respect and love for her. I only hope that I never allow her challenges to overcome me. Overcoming these challenges only makes her more beautiful.