I could barely sleep. The anticipation kept me thinking of what it would be like. I changed sleeping positions all night, from side to side, on my back, on my stomach. Nothing was comfortable. Finally, it was morning, and my dad woke me up. I quickly rose, despite the restless night of sleep.
It was here! I was finally going skiing! I had been dreaming of this day for four years.
My love for skiing and ski resorts began four years ago on April 8, 1993. That was the day I visited a ski resort for the first time. I was visiting my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Salt Lake City. My aunt recommended we go to Snowbird because we could ride a tram to the top of Hidden Peak without having to ski down. I had no idea what Snowbird was. Frankly, I wasn’t even excited that we were going there.
We arrived at Snowbird about 25 minutes after we left her home in Sugarhouse. It was the greatest thing I had ever seen. There was a huge mountain right in front of my eyes. It was awesome. The air up there seemed so fresh and thin! It felt different. Just walking around made me lose my breath. That’s what I would come to love about the mountains, though: the feeling of the thin, cool, mountain air.
We took a complimentary bus ride to Snowbird Center from our parking spot. When got out onto the main base area, we bought our tram tickets. I gazed up at the huge mountain. This was my first time at any type of ski resort, and I loved it! I could definitely get used to this, I thought.
Soon after, I was in the tram and riding up the mountain. But I was uncomfortable. I was nervous, and I was being pressed against the glass. They jammed as many people as they could on that tram!
I reached the top about seven minutes later. I couldn’t believe what I saw! It was the greatest sight I had ever seen. For the next 15 minutes, a peaceful calm came over me because I realized I was in the best possible place I could ever be—on top of Hidden Peak at 11,000 feet.
I did a 360 and took photos in every direction. To the northeast, there were beautiful snowcapped mountains. To the east was Mount Baldy and Alta Ski Area. To the south was a small valley in the foreground with Mount Timpanogos in the distance. To the north was an imposing ridge. To the west were the American Fork Twin Peaks, a stunning pair of connected peaks that rise about 500 feet above Hidden Peak. At the end of the canyon, there was a huge valley, the Oquirrh Mountains, and a lake. Salt Lake City was in that huge valley, and the lake was, of course, the Great Salt Lake. The view was spectacular!
I’ve loved ski resorts—especially Snowbird—since that day.
Over the next three years, I would order dozens of brochures from ski resorts. I dreamed of being able to visit each of those resorts. In December 1995, I put together a scrapbook of ski-resort pictures from the brochures and ordered many reprints of the photos I took on Hidden Peak.
But shortly after I compiled that scrapbook, my interest in ski resorts faded because I knew I wouldn’t visit any of them anytime soon.
It wasn’t until September 1996 that my “skiing fever” returned. I was in my school’s library, bored as usual, when I grabbed a copy of Snow Country magazine. The cover announced the “50 Top Ski Resorts.” I checked out Snowbird’s place in the rankings (number 26).
Right at the moment my eyes made contact with the picture of Snowbird, I became gripped by the joy I felt that day in April 1993.
I’ve wanted to go skiing since that day. The difference between my interest in September 1996 and my prior interest in ski resorts was my desire to actually ski.
As the days went by, and the stacks of ski-resort brochures piled up, I still hadn’t gone skiing.
In November 1996, I tried out for the junior-varsity basketball team. I made the basketball team the past three years (since I started junior high school), but it was almost a relief when the coach called me into his office to tell me he was cutting me because the team had “too many guards.” If I had made the team, I probably wouldn’t have played much anyway.
I had never been cut from a team before, and I didn’t expect to get cut from the basketball team this year. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I wouldn’t have basketball games and practices until the spring.
My gym teacher, who was also the swim team’s coach, asked me to join the JV swim team. I decided to try it. I went to one practice, but I hated it. I quit after that one practice.
Joining the ski club was my last but best option. I am guaranteed at least six ski days. I was excited!
My dad promised a ski day at Bristol Mountain before ski club started. He planned to help me learn skiing basics. This ski day would be my dad’s first ski day in about 15 years!
When the day finally arrived, I dressed for skiing according to my dad’s recommendations. I rented super-sidecut skis because I had already been reading the ski-lesson articles in Skiing magazine, which were specifically targeted for skiing with super-sidecut skis.
After eating a bagel for breakfast and driving to Bristol for about 45 minutes, I was greeted by Rocket, an imposingly steep trail right in front of the parking lot. Bristol was much bigger than I expected, but it was still nothing like Snowbird.
While we were dressing in the car, I could see the mist from the snow guns up and down the mountain. The sound of the guns was unmistakable. The sound easily carried from the slopes to our car.
We hit the slopes after we quickly buckled our rental ski boots and locked up our belongings—sort of! First, we walked slowly and awkwardly up a small hill toward the south side of the resort. It took me several minutes to click into my skis’ bindings and even longer to make my way up a gentle slope to practice standing on my skis and sliding on the snow.
I graduated to riding the chair lift a short time later. This would be my first time riding a chairlift. I dropped my ski pole the first time I loaded on a chair lift. Thankfully, the lady working at the ski lift stopped the lift and handed me my pole.
My first run was slow, but I made progress. After about four runs down the almost-flat Infinity run, I thought I was ready for Sunset, an intermediate trail.
My run down Sunset did not go well! I linked turns at a rate of about one per minute, I fell twice, and I was terrified by the steepness of the slope. After two more runs on Infinity, though, I tried Sunset again.
After lunch, I decided I would accompany my dad to the summit. He wanted to ski Lower Rocket, but I did not because it had big moguls. We decided to ski Lower Meteor instead.
To get to Lower Meteor, we had to ski down Universe, an intermediate trail from the summit. I took a couple of tumbles, and I was afraid a couple of times, but I did all right.
I was terrified when I arrived atop Lower Meteor! I had never seen anything so steep. Plus, the slope was covered with ice. Damn that man-made snow! But Lower Meteor was the “easiest” way down from where we were. So I started down the slope. Partway down, I stopped and began sideslipping down the trail. Eventually, an unwelcomed sense of failure helped me work up enough courage to carve my way down the rest of the slope. This blast of courage left my dad behind. He was surprised.
After that episode, we stuck to easier slopes. We quit skiing at 4:15 p.m. Our lift tickets were good for another 45 minutes, but what let me accept an early retreat from this dream day was the knowledge that another ski day would come shortly. I was scheduled to go skiing with my school’s ski club the following day! All this fun and progress would have to wait one more day.
The last four years had come down to this first day of skiing. I enjoyed the experience even more than I expected. The day’s events excited me so much that I felt inspired to write this story.
Note: I wrote this ski day report when I was 15. I only lightly edited it for publication on this website; however, if you can believe it, I did remove a lot of exclamation points!