I was thrilled to be able to get back to the snow again. I’ve been waiting all year for this. The first time I tried to ski, I was very wobbly and scared. Even so, I was determined to keep trying. The adrenaline I felt, once I managed to soar down that mountain was indescribable. When I became more advanced, I could do jumps, flips, and tricks like you wouldn’t believe. Skiing brings me at peace. I love the whoosh of the snow uprooted by the skis, the precision and skill it takes to manoeuver myself around the trees, and the rush of excitement. Without skiing I would be lost. It is my true calling in life.
As I got off the plane, my parents rushed over to hug me. All three of us were excited that I was here. In the winter, Canada always had snow. I couldn’t wait to hit the slopes. My parents helped me gather my luggage and drove me to their apartment. It was an unusually warm night considering it was winter time. Once we arrived at their home, they settled me into a room. I instantly fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
My alarm went off at seven a.m. and I rushed around eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, and getting my gear together. I asked to borrow my mom’s car and then loaded everything into her sedan. Luckily, she had a GPS system, so I could navigate my way through the city. I found my way to Grouse Mountain only to discover that it was closed. A fellow skier told me that there was no snow on this mountain and then he advised me to head home.
I’ve waited too long to ski to give up now! There was another mountain I could check out – Mount Seymour. I drove, nearly speeding, hoping to find snow. Once I got there, I was told again that there was not enough snow on the mountain for any winter sports. My heart sank into my stomach. How could this happen? I had been researching the best places to ski here for months. I bought the best equipment. It was all for nothing.
Disappointed by how much time and money I had wasted, I started driving around aimlessly. Somehow I spotted a lively place called Seymour’s Pub. Once I found a place to park, I walked over there bundled up in my thick black coat and wool gloves. I didn’t really need them as I was burning up when I entered the bar. Sitting on a stool, I ordered a beer and stripped off my coat. There were a few other guys in the bar, all drinking beer. They were quiet and kept to themselves, just like me.
Wracking my brain, I tried to think of places where I could go to ski. That was hard to do considering I’m from the other side of the country. I was so blinded by my excitement to ski, that I didn’t factor in the odds of it actually snowing. Skiing was my only hobby and I hadn’t had the chance to go in years. I missed it so much that I thought I was physically going insane.
After my third or fourth beer, a rowdy group of guys about my age crashed through the doors. They hooted and hollered about how awesome they were and that they couldn’t wait to leave tomorrow. I scowled as they crowded around me at the bar, barking at the poor bartender for drinks. He seemed to be okay with it, as he just rolled his eyes and poured the alcohol.
“What are you fellas so cheery about?” I scoffed, not really expecting an answer. “Well, my friend,” a clean shaven man said as he patted my back, “We’re all headed down to Washington tomorrow to go skiing and snowboarding!” He let out a loud holler and his friends echoed his noise.
My eyes lit up and I looked at the man who was now chugging down a pint. “You’re going skiing?” “Hell, yeah!” the man exclaims. His breath smelled as if he’d already had too much to drink. “Bright and early, we’ll be off.” The group of men cheered and I cheered along with them.
“I haven’t been skiing in ages! It would be great if I could tag along!” I beamed, “I could even give one of you a ride in my car. It’s kind of small but there’s enough room for me and a passenger.”
“No way!” one of the other men, with freckles all over his face, roared, “That would be awesome, dude!”
I smiled at this group who had so quickly welcomed me on their journey. My heart beat quickened and I could almost feel the icy breezes against my skin. I could smell the freshly fallen puffs of white already. The next morning was Saturday and I was up and ready to go well before I needed to be. I was far too excited, that my parents even thought I was still drunk. I was perfectly sober, but I was overjoyed at the thought of skiing again. Nothing could compare to what I was feeling. I wasn’t even afraid of how rusty I might be considering how long it’s been.
It took about three hours to get where we needed to go. I leaped out of the car and rushed towards the slopes, ecstatic that I now had a place to go every weekend.