TheAspen Extreme

After reading J.O's story about her senior trip, I thought I would share a senior trip story with TheShocker.

One day, Matt and I were on the slopes nearing closing time. We were close to the mountain peak and wanted to get in some more skiing before the lifts stopped. We had to options; we could either hurry down the far side of the mountain and get back up to where we should be, or just be responsible and get to the car.

When we got about half way down the run, we stopped for a breather. Just then I saw the most horrifying thing... the lift stopped, and the lift operator got in a truck and drove away.

So Matt and I took off our skiis, took our first steps in the snow, and realized how bad this experience was going to be. We sank completely down to our waists. We could barely move, the snow was so deep we had to throw our skiis about five feet ahead of us... slowly catch up to them and throw them up again. If this portion of the mointain would have been dry concrete, and we would have been wearing shoes, it would have taken us about forty five to fifty seconds to walk up this incline. In the snow however, it took us at least an hour and a half.

And it gets better. When we conquered our puny obstacle and reached our trail, we found out it wasn't a ski trail, it was service trail for the employees. But we didn't care... it had snow, it was smooth, and for a change, it was going down. Everything was going great until the trail ended up at a road.

We were then (again) stuck with two options; kick off the skiis (agian) and walk along the road, or try to ski on the snow along the side of the road. We decided to ski on the side, which wasn't very difficult. We then quickly ran out of snow to ski on and were forced to make another (stupid) decision; walk on the road, or try to go strait down the mountain through the trees.

In the forest, it was even harder to ski because there were so many trees and bushes. The trees and bushes were also a lot of fun because they made the snow fluffier than it should be.

After about ten or fifteen minutes we reached the windy road we had left behind all too long ago. Not a vote was taken, or a word spoken, we took off our skis and started the long walk down the road. It's ironic how glad we were to be out of the woods and on the road, because we had no idea how long the road was, or where it was taking us. After about forty five minutes of walking in our ski boots, the sky was getting dark and we began to worry. About a mile down the road we saw a car with a flat. Boy were we happy. Those were the first people we had seen for hours. Just then a rusted out pickup speeded by us and stopped at the car. They talked for a few minutes which got us a little closer to the action. A few moments later, the pickup backed up to talk to us. I could barely contain my joy when I saw the driver and passenger were ski patrols. They asked, "You guys need a ride?" I don't know what got into us, but our macho, studly, self-reliant, stupid-asses replied, "No, that's alright..." The men looked at us harder, "Are you sure? It's a pretty long way." We agreed and jumped in the back. We were driving for miles along that road.

Matt and I guessed it would have taken us alt least another three to four hours walking. When we got to the base of the mountain, we thanked the ski patrollers for (saving our lives) the ride and we left.

When we got back to the house where we were staying, Matt's dad and his friend (the guy that owned the house) were suprised we still had our ski stuff on. They thought we met up with some girls and were having the time of our lives.

I don't know about the time of our lives, but it's a time I'll always remember.