Christmas, snow, sledding, hot cocoa, and a toasty fire define my winter.
At this point in my life (age 12), the idea of learning to ski or snowboarding never occurred to me. I always heard my friends say they were going to ski club or they are going up to the mountains but I never had any interest. That Christmas my aunt surprised my family with a trip up to Loon Mountain for a weekend to explore the slopes. I was fascinated at the thought. Riding a lift, trying a fresh sport, having my own set up and exploring a resort, it all sounded amazing!
The ride up was three hours but unforgettable. My aunt and I drove up together, belting the classics tunes from the 80’s station on Pandora. We arrived at a dark brown building about 10 floors tall. I had never seen a mountain resort before.  Wide eyed I gazed at the mountain. The small figures cruising down the slope reminded me of fall leaves drifting to the ground.  After 15 minutes of unpacking the car we were directed to our suite.
I do not travel or stay at hotels very often, to be treated to a slope side room was above and beyond my expectation. I remained bundled up near the fire watching the hundreds of people flying down the mountain. I was more than excited to try it and after mentally preparing myself and watching so many people, I was ready to go for it.
We stayed in for dinner that night listening to my dad tell endless stories about his past experiences snowboarding. He loved it and told me I would too.  He assured me I would pick it up fast because I already surfed and skateboarded and this would feel like a natural extension of the two. We gathered all of our gear and laid it on the floor in preparation for the next morning. My brothers and I shared a room and had no problem going right to sleep, with only the excitement for the next day on mind.
I was woken by the sound of pans hitting the stove, everyone was eating and getting ready. I got up, put on the clothes I was going to wear under my gear and raced to the kitchen. We all went to the shop and got rentals, five snowboards and boots. My aunt and cousins already had gear.  After the renting process which seemed to take hours more than I was expecting, we went out to the brisk mountain.
We stepped out of the resort lobby and onto the snow. People raced by and collected in a line for the lift. I was told that I was goofy footed, or in other words, I ride with my right foot forward.  This was always the way I surfed too, so I strapped in my right foot and stood up. I then attempted to lift the board which was only attached to one foot and tried to walk. The edge caught the snow and I toppled over. Wiping the smile off his face my dad showed me how to push with my left and glide with the foot attached to the board.  I soon caught on after passing through the awkward duck walk phase.
Already struggling and getting slightly frustrated I got in line for the lift, head down observing the black and white pattern on my board. I was most excited for the lift. A concept that I didn’t understand at the time, having never seen or ridden one before. I was going to ride up the two person lift with my mom. She was also a new snowboarder at the time, although she was a great skier.  The lift whipped around bringing the people in front of us up and the man controlling the lift motioned us to come forward. After pushing forward to the black line spray painted onto the snow, I looked back at the chair lift coming at us. I suddenly got nervous but the tension was released when both my mom and I made it safely onto the lift and put the bar down. I leaned over looking at the board hanging from my right foot. The board was heavy and I could feel the tension on my foot, luckily my boot was tight enough that it felt secure. The whole ride up consisted of my mother explaining to me how to get off, trying her best to calm my fear, my fear of the unknown.
We were getting closer to the top and within 100 meters of the unload and we lifted the safety bar. We both position our bodies facing the left, put our unattached foot in the middle of the board and slid down the hill. My mom looked at me after the perfect landing and we smiled. Everything was of to a great start! We waited for our whole group to unload off the lifts and we all strapped in. We started on a sizable blue with hundreds of experienced skiers and snowboarders coming within 3 feet of us. My dad taught me to slow down by using the “heel edge” of my board. I went straight for about 1 foot and then immediately wiped to my heel edge falling on my stomach. The wind was knocked right out of me. I remained down with my board in front of me, caught my breath, stood up, went racing down the trail at a very fast speed, panicked and fell. At this point it felt like people were closing in on us and I didn't wanna be at the top of this bottomless trail anymore.
I fought back the tears of pure frustration and pain and listened to my dad, who was kneeling in front of me. He told me to shift from heel edge to toe edge and then showed me. An action that came so easily to him and as it appeared to my younger brother as well. My mom seemed to be in the same position as me but she has endless patience. I gave it another try but I continued falling and sliding down the trail causing everyone to weave around me. I was upset, embarrassed and frustrated. My dad wanted me to try again but I started to cry. I thought it was going to be the best time of my life but I was let down by the harsh reality. At the moment the only thing I wanted was to be at home surrounded by snow, hot chocolate in hand sitting by the fire, the way my winter used to be.
The hot tears fogged up my goggles adding yet another obstacle to the mission of making my way down the mountain. I pushed myself up into heel edge position and started slowly sliding down the mountain. The only way I could get down aside from sliding, was on heel edge. So I slowly “braked” down the mountain.  When we got to the bottom everyone got back in line for the life and I had no choice but to go along. The whole day consisted of more falling, frustration, bruised hips and hurt wrists.
Later that trip after, after going down all the trails on just heel edge, my dad brought me to a kids learning trial that wrapped around a small hill. I finally achieved the flow from going straight, whipping to heel edge and turning. I had no interest in learning toe edge, one of the most essential aspects of the sport.  I went back to some of the other trails and successfully made it down with the skills I mastered. My trip had become much more enjoyable.
I think of that day as a milestone.
We went to several other resorts that winter and I continued to use only heel edge. At this point my 10 year old brother had already mastered the sport and all of his movements looked natural and polished. My mom and I still left out toe edge. I am very a very stubborn learner and after all the time it took me to learn heel edge I didn’t even wanna think about toe.
As the winter went on we got Gunstock season passes. I would wake up every weekday morning at 5:30, have sports after school and not go to bed until 9. My weeks were long and on the weekends I just wanted to sleep in and have a relaxing day. Instead my brother tackled me with excitement and told me to get ready to go to the mountain. The last thing I wanted to do…
  One year later we got season passes to Gunstock again. The mountain now felt like home. We knew every trail, every lift and all the lodges. I was very bored with the sport and never wanted to go back up the lift. The highlight of those days were going into the lodge for lunch and burning my tongue on the hot broth from my Ramen noodle soup. I finally came to the conclusion it was time to try toe edge. The factor I had been avoiding.
As I’m sure you can imagine toe edge came like a piece of cake. I had all the skills needed and the only things standing in my way was my head.  I was now wiping down the mountain. Going from side to side, weaving between people, going faster than I even could’ve with just heel edge and I absolutely loved it.
Every Saturday morning I was the first one up and ready. I never wanted to go in for lunch and we always stayed two hours later then we used to. For I used to beg to leave so I could go home, snuggle up in my bed and watch Netflix. But now Gunstock is my second home in the winter, though I hope I am fortunate enough to explore more mountains.
What I took away from this experience is my dad is always right, always have an open mind to trying new things, and my favorite place is on the top of a mountain.