I still have A LOT to recap from my North Carolina trip…. But I just want to dedicate this post to my first skiing experience.
Wolf Ridge Ski lodge is the place we skied.
I pretty much could sum it up right now by just saying at the end of the whole experience we should have walked out of there with a t-shirt saying “I survived the Wolf."
My Mom and I particularly only skied 2 days. Some of the others skied more.
Me on the first day. I look more like Amelia Earhart here but whatev.
The first day we took ski lessons and I’m so glad we did, it made me so much more comfortable on the slopes, on the first day that is. We’ll get to the second day in a minute.
The first day was magical. It was snowing while we were skiing. The snow was powdery and perfect for skiing. I was having no fear; I was swishing back and forth. I was thinking bring it on.
Then, the ski lifts came into the picture.
Y’all, the ski lifts were going to be the death of me. It was my first experience with them. It is something else trying to get off those things. Because it kind of catapults you off and you just have to be prepared for it; butt to the edge of the seat, your skis positioned just so and your poles positioned, and what not.
Not to mention, the whole time you’re going up on that thing you’re just thinking, Lord, this is not how I want to die.
It NEVER failed, getting off that thing was ALWAYS an adventure. At most times one of us found ourselves yelling “DUCK” because our heads were about to be chopped off by an oncoming ski lift cart coming our way if we didn’t move our behinds out of the way…. But just let me mention that all we were trying to do was gather our composure and dignity after yet again another ski lift fall.
It seriously almost became comical.
Oh, and then there was the one time up the ski lift where I completely lost it, couldn’t get myself back up after about forever of trying and then the two ski lift control guys came on each side of me and helped me up. Bless their hearts.
Then there’s the awkward experience of getting on the ski lift with someone you don’t know and there just being dead silence. And all you want to say to them is “do you know where you’re going when God takes you from this earth?” Because y’all, I’m not a fan of those ski lifts.
You also try REALLY hard not to laugh at the people below you as you are watching them crashing and burning on the slopes, because you realize that could easily be you and the tables could be turned.
The first day, every time I fell it was not ski related on the actually slopes, but it was just clumsiness on my part. All I could do was just laugh.
The second day though, NO laughing matter. It was a totally different skiing experience ALL together and I fell a time or two, or three, or four. My Mom and I kept saying the whole day, this was so much more enjoyable yesterday, and found ourselves in the lodge for awhile. The snow was not as powdery and was much icier.
But, eventually we took those slopes head on and so imagine a girl (quite possibly could have been me, oh heck… it was me), going down the slopes and none and I mean none of the techniques that we learned so we could stop were working for me. I was going, going, going, and going, and I was not stopping. Seriously, I left my parents in the dust. NOT by choice. At one point I started thinking “well, if the good Lord is going to take me, then I’m going to take this sucker all the way down.” And all the way down the hill I made it, and still on my feet I might add. Only by the grace of God.
It took awhile for my heart rate to go down.
I’m imagining by the smile on my face, this was before the thrill ride.
Overall, the whole skiing experience was wonderful and I would do it again in a heartbeat, and for my first time, I’d say I did better than expected. I’m giving myself some grace here, ha!
But see all these happy people on the slopes though???
Don’t be fooled. The ski lifts kicked their butts too, I just know it!!!
