Sliding.

I’ve decided to create a new snow sport.

There’s already skiing, snowboarding, and sledding. And what I accomplished on the mountain today does not fit into any of these categories.

Our morning started early as we arose and got ready for our day on the mountain. We were all very excited for the adventures awaiting us on Monarch Mountain. After a long drawn out rental process we finally got all of our gear and headed out for our first run.

I must say, I was quite proud of myself at the beginning of the day. I was skiing, and quite well for not having snow skied in well over 8 years.

We were cruising down the green slopes and after a while we decided to take on some more challenging slopes. This was my first mistake. Green. Always take green. I am not a blue person.

We headed up to the very top of the mountain and took the “Great Divide.” Now this part was spectacular. There was no mistake here. The view was absolutely phenomenal. We were breathless, it was so beautiful.

As we stopped to take pictures a man and his daughter were also taking pictures. We offered to take their pictures if they would be willing to take ours. The man continually thanked us for taking their pictures. He informed us that he was a heart patient, and that this may in fact be his last time down the mountain with his daughter.

Right after these photos were taken, the disaster began. The only way down from this point was to take one of two blue slopes.

It started off pretty decent, and then it happened. I tumbled and fell. I lost my hat, my left ski, my right pole, my goggles, my glasses. I laid on the side of the mountain, crying. Most likely I was crying of embarrassment and because of my stupidity, but it was partially because of fear. I was trapped. All of my abandoned gear was farther up the mountain and I couldn’t reach it. I tried climbing, but it was no use. I was stuck. Logan and Emma were already down at the bottom, my only hope was that Josh would be able to get to me and help me.

After retrieving all of my strewn out items (with the help of Josh), I attempted to put my ski back on. No matter how hard I tried though, there was no hope. This ski was not going back on. At least not at on this steep slope. So I did probably the stupidest thing a person could do. I took off my other ski, sat on my butt, laid my skis and poles across my lap and slid down the mountain until I came across a flatish part. I slid about 50 feet. After this experience I was traumatized. And everything from that point on was downhill.

But this was not my only sliding incident. There was another, once again off of a blue connected to the Great Divide. I told myself that I had to redeem myself. I was not about to let this silly mountain conquer me.

Well, the mountain had more pull than I did. This time all of my friends watched as I rolled/slid down about 30 feet, almost taking out LeAnn in the process. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen the boys laugh so hard. And before I got down to the lifts I fell once more. This time I decided to walk the last 50 feet.

After a break I gathered up the courage to go once again. The boys and I rode the lift up partway and skied down to another lift. I didn’t even make it 50 feet off of the lift before falling once again. I looked up and saw Josh and Logan at the bottom bent over laughing. At this point I decided that my purpose was to entertain, as skiing was not my forte.

Given the choice to just head back down or keep going, I decided to press on. I was not about to give up. After riding the lift and arriving at the top, the three of us went our separate ways. I was sticking to the green. No more blues for me.

This solo skiing experience was the most successful run I had had all day long. I breezed from slope to slope with ease and grace. Now granted I almost fell down once or twice (okay maybe more than that), but I never actually fell. I was skiing! As I rounded the corner back to the lifts, I spotted the rest of the gang, and they spotted me. Unfortunately within seconds of seeing each other I was back on my butt in the snow.

Maybe I’m more of a solo skier, or a slider. Which by the way, the sport of sliding only requires ski clothes and a way to get to the top of the slopes. From there you just slide down. It’s pretty simple, but may result in lots of snow up your pants and your clothes.