Skiing Probs

Me and my dad had just skied from the Gold Coast Express lift down to Siberia Express and we were ready to conquer my first-ever black diamond lift and trail. We got in line and waited until our turn to get onto the lift. The chair spun around the humongous gear and hit me right in the thigh, so hard it almost knocked me over but my dad grabbed me and pulled me back on so I wouldn’t be crushed by a really big chair. Me and my dad got onto the chair and I sat next to a guy with an orange jacket, blue pants, and a neon yellow ski helmet. The helmet was so loose that looked like it would fall off.   

It was snowing so hard, and it was windy almost like a blizzard. We hopped off the lift and the guy wished me luck. I regretted being hit by the chair lift because my thigh was aching and throbbing. The man with the yellow helmet went down to the right where the easy way down was and we went to the left where the trail Chicken Bowl was. We were observing the yellow ski helmet guy as he skied down the easier trail. As he got to the end and was going downhill his helmet flew off and he had to take off his skis and hike up to get his helmet back. When he finally skied all the way down, I wondered in my head how terrible that would have been. Little did I know what would happen to me next and what a terror it would be.

I stared down the steep hilly run and almost jumped out of my socks it was so steep. When I looked to my left side there were many people going down French Fry and were probably going 50 miles per hour, so my dad told me to wait for everyone to go down the trail. To spend a little time as everyone went down, I looked to see what was at the end of the trail and there was a drop that looked to go to just rocks and trees. The trees looked like they had been planted by a madman because they were on their side and were about to fall over. I saw to the right of me that it was a little bit less steep but had more moguls and decided I wanted to go down it. I soon took back that idea, because, skiing to the lip, a gust of wind blew me even more to the side, and I saw that it was way steeper. My dad caught up to me and said it will be fine, but little did he know it was about to be “a terrible horrible no good very bad day” (like the book). We were one fifth of the way down when one of my legs got stuck in a mogul but the other one kept going and I did the splits and with all that gear on I heard a crack and my leg broke. My dad was force feeding me candy bars when someone approached us and said they would call ski patrol. Once they came, I was fast asleep.