I was 8 years old and my family and I were taking our annual winter vacation to Sun Valley, Idaho. There we were going to enjoy both family time and hours of skiing on Mount Baldy and on Dollar Mountain. Both Mountains were extremely fun but Baldie was more advanced compared to the beginner mountain Dollar. When we arrived, we were greeted with a huge snow storm, building up our growing excitement and anticipation of the fun days to come.
In Sun Valley, we often carve out time to ski with our younger cousins. Although my family and I were quite avid skiers and loved skiing on Mount Baldy significantly more, we often times had to ski on Dollar because of our younger cousins abilities and today was one of those days.
Being eight, I thought I was so much older and better than my then 7 and 4-year old cousins. The day of skiing that day was fun at first but the slow runs and the constant “cocoa” breaks became repetitive and frustrating. Then later in the day, we took a run which had just been groomed and we had not gone on yet. When runs are groomed, they become smoother but also much quicker.
On the way up the chairlift to get to the run, I saw an older skier fly down the slope and thought that it looked like loads of fun on this particular run and on an increasingly boring day it was that much more enticing. So I yelled out, “Mom, that looks like fun.”
She answered, “No, don’t do that or you’ll end up hurt.”
This thing I saw the man do was one of my favorite things to do when I was skiing at this age. I would “tuck” in order to gain speed and speed down the slopes. So, when we got off the chairlift, to ski down the run, I began to barreling down the hill uncontrollably. However, I didn’t realize that the runs were lined with deep snow banks from the earlier grooming and the snow storm. As I flew down the hill not taking a single turn to slow myself I began to approach a turn. Now when I saw this I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I had seen some nice powder and thought I would just stop there and wait for my family. That was until I realized I couldn't stop. I began to panic as I accelerated closer to the thick snow and the gut-wrenching feeling grasped me told me that I was about to experience a world of hurt. And then it happened I was in the snow. For a split second I was fine and then my ski’s sunk into the snow and my momentum carried my out of my skis and it sent me flying, head first into the snow
As I laid in a heap of snow, skis and ski poles, I realized my mom was right and that what I had seen that man do was quite dangerous and irresponsible. As I lay in the snow, I felt cold and embarrassed because I had crashed in front of my younger cousins. That kind of ski accident is what some call a yard sale. Where you and your equipment are strewn in every direction. This was not my first-yard sale nor my last, but after each one, I knew I should have listened to my peers in this case my mom, in order to avoid the accident.