I inhaled a breath of chilly mountain air. The beauty of Montana winters amaze me. Delicate snowflakes fell around my numb face. I stood in about of foot a snow outside my grandparents house in Missoula, Montana. I was thrilled when I was told we were going to Montana for Christmas break. Me, being from Portland, Oregon, have had few and fleeting experiences with snow since, in Oregon, if snow does fall it basically turns into ice in a day. This morning my younger sister, Grace, and I had begged our grandpa to take us sledding. He agreed and so we grabbed our cousins Lena and Lucas, bundled up, and ran out with a sled in our hands. We hopped into my grandpa's truck and drove down the road a ways. My grandparents house is nestled in a cul-de-sac towards the base of a mountain so there are plenty of hills to sled on. We pulled over to a steeper spot and jumped out of the truck, hauling the sled behind us. I looked down the slope. It went down quite a ways but we would stop the sled before then. The hill we were about to go down, in the summer, was covered with shrubs, but now it was nearly unrecognizable with the eight  inches of snow that covered it. Who knows what is under it? My sister and I volunteered to go first. I, as usual sat in the front, with my sister holding on from behind. My grandpa gave us a shove and we were off. Laughing, as we sailed down the hill. We felt the wind in our faces, speed picking up the farther we sailed, it was freeing as well as fun. Faster and faster and faster we went, sailing through the snow…”Thud!” And we hit a rock. I yelped as the sled flipped forward and I got a face full of cold, wet, snow. Then my sister came down on top of me. “Oomph!” I became a pancake. Funny thing was, she complained more than I did. That day I went back to my grandparents house bruised and freezing. When I think back, I realize that if I had just scouted of the area that we were sledding at, the whole situation could have been avoided. I now know not be so hasty and to think before I act.