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Scary stuff.
- Thread starter ski diva
- Start date
BatGirl
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Some friends and I went out to Vail one year. It was my third time on skis, first time on a mountain out West. I'd freaked out earlier in the day on my ski skates because I just wasn't experienced on them enough to know how to turn. Everyone kept telling me, "Oh, it's just like skating. You won't have a problem." Except I did. Despite this, my friends somehow talked me in to going ski biking. At night.
On the first run, my headlamp died, so I couldn't really see where I was going. I just did the best I could to keep up with my friends. Got a new headlamp when we got back to the top for the second run. However, it seemed our guide must have had a hot date that night, because she couldn't be bothered to wait for us at the top. She just barked out a few quick directions, disappeared around the lift hut, and left us to figure out where she'd gone. A group of us followed what we thought she'd said, but ended up on an icy black diamond trail right under the lift. I lost control of the bike and was headed towards the trees. I just threw the bike away from me, went limp, and let myself skid down the slope.
Fortunately, a few of my friends were right there with me. They picked me up, found the bike, checked for anything broken, and then one of them who had a bit more familiarity with the mountain guided us back to where he thought the guide would be. Sure enough, we eventually caught up with her, and her lack of concern was astounding. She later accused us of having been drinking (which we hadn't) and going down that trail on purpose.
Needless to say, I now have a fear of speed and steep trails which I'm working very hard to overcome if I'm going to get anywhere with this sport.
On the first run, my headlamp died, so I couldn't really see where I was going. I just did the best I could to keep up with my friends. Got a new headlamp when we got back to the top for the second run. However, it seemed our guide must have had a hot date that night, because she couldn't be bothered to wait for us at the top. She just barked out a few quick directions, disappeared around the lift hut, and left us to figure out where she'd gone. A group of us followed what we thought she'd said, but ended up on an icy black diamond trail right under the lift. I lost control of the bike and was headed towards the trees. I just threw the bike away from me, went limp, and let myself skid down the slope.
Fortunately, a few of my friends were right there with me. They picked me up, found the bike, checked for anything broken, and then one of them who had a bit more familiarity with the mountain guided us back to where he thought the guide would be. Sure enough, we eventually caught up with her, and her lack of concern was astounding. She later accused us of having been drinking (which we hadn't) and going down that trail on purpose.
Needless to say, I now have a fear of speed and steep trails which I'm working very hard to overcome if I'm going to get anywhere with this sport.
Snowsong
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Batgirl, I highly recommend "In the Yikes Zone" by Mermer Blakeslee. It's a book that deals with fear and skiing, full of good stuff.
For myself, the ski patrol at my area wanted to train the instructors in a lift evacuation in case they ever needed extra help. Riding the lift doesn't bother me (it better not!), but the thought of sliding my butt cheeks off that chair into the air and hanging by a rope didn't appeal to me. After we were "rescued", we got to evacuate the next person. I was on the lift with another female instructor who rock climbs, so it was no big deal to her. She is VERY talkative, which I was thankful for, because it helped keep my mind off the task at hand while we were sitting in the air waiting for our turn. When it was my turn, it felt like forever until I got up the guts to leave the chair. It also didn't help that the guy holding the rope was really small and skinny. Once I was in the air, I felt okay once I knew I was secure, and Matt did a good job of letting me down. Now that I've done it, I know I can do it again if I ever have to.
For myself, the ski patrol at my area wanted to train the instructors in a lift evacuation in case they ever needed extra help. Riding the lift doesn't bother me (it better not!), but the thought of sliding my butt cheeks off that chair into the air and hanging by a rope didn't appeal to me. After we were "rescued", we got to evacuate the next person. I was on the lift with another female instructor who rock climbs, so it was no big deal to her. She is VERY talkative, which I was thankful for, because it helped keep my mind off the task at hand while we were sitting in the air waiting for our turn. When it was my turn, it felt like forever until I got up the guts to leave the chair. It also didn't help that the guy holding the rope was really small and skinny. Once I was in the air, I felt okay once I knew I was secure, and Matt did a good job of letting me down. Now that I've done it, I know I can do it again if I ever have to.
Lilgeorg
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Early in my skiing experience we skied at Seven springs in Pennsylvania. It was a great day until it started to snow very hard and Lightening! We could not see at all since it was a white out. We ended up skiing with our eyes closed to get back down the hill. The whole time the lightening got closer and closer.They closed the area just after we got to the lodge.
I had a similar experience to yours Ski Diva at Snowbird. I just wanted to get the "H" out of there. But the first scary thing was when I was 5 years old. Uncle Bob puts these sticks on my snow boots, told me to hold onto the moving rope and it would pull me up the hill. Like everyone else, the first time skiing, down on my butt and sliding on. But did it again and again. Heah, I was 5 years old.
A couple of years ago I decided to try Snowboarding. As part of a Ladies day in Collingwood, we would get a lesson for 2 hours. So I rented the boots and board. The instructor was CASI certified and did a great job. But here I am on beginner terrain, looking down a flat slope, tied to a board with my front foot and looking at the parking lot. The snowbanks go right to the foot of the beginner area. I'm imagining myself, sliding forward, hitting the snow bank and becoming a hood ornament on somebody's Jeep. It was great experience in that it brought back the feelings that a beginner skier must have when I standing there in front of them, explaining that this slope is flat, you can't get enough speed to do anything etc. I did get to ride the chair and slide and turn through one run on that beginner terrain. But mostly like that first time skiing, on my butt!
A couple of years ago I decided to try Snowboarding. As part of a Ladies day in Collingwood, we would get a lesson for 2 hours. So I rented the boots and board. The instructor was CASI certified and did a great job. But here I am on beginner terrain, looking down a flat slope, tied to a board with my front foot and looking at the parking lot. The snowbanks go right to the foot of the beginner area. I'm imagining myself, sliding forward, hitting the snow bank and becoming a hood ornament on somebody's Jeep. It was great experience in that it brought back the feelings that a beginner skier must have when I standing there in front of them, explaining that this slope is flat, you can't get enough speed to do anything etc. I did get to ride the chair and slide and turn through one run on that beginner terrain. But mostly like that first time skiing, on my butt!
I got lost in the woods at the Canyons. Saw some untouched snow thru widely spaced trees and decided to explore. As I went down, the trees got tighter and tighter and there were no tracks or signs that this led to a trail. I realized I needed to stop and reconsider what I was doing. IT was dead quiet when I heard some noise in the direction I had come. I could see someone who was behind a tree. I called out, but no answer. At this point, I was sure it was a serial killer. Fortunately, it was a boarder who saw my tracks and assumed they went somewhere, a nice guy from canada. We climbed out of the ravine-like area where we were. He had it easier with his boots. I could barely breathe from the effort at altitude when we finally got out of there.
It was a scary and embarrassing moment. I learned a valuable lesson about skiing alone, taking chances and being responsible. :o
It was a scary and embarrassing moment. I learned a valuable lesson about skiing alone, taking chances and being responsible. :o
liquidfeet
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Wow, these are great stories. Mine can't even come close, but here goes....
Every time I follow someone who is much faster than I am, and I keep up (which I do), I get scared. I guess it doesn't even count. But this year I have better information on how to keep my skis carving in that situation; I am determined to gain more control and should experience fear less often.
Twice I fell on a steep icy double-black (White Heat, Sunday River) and slid almost all the way down head first looking at the sky. The slope was long but empty of obstacles and I slid to a stop when it got less steep. So embarrassing, as the chair goes up one side of the slope, of course. That was back when I was just learning. I needed (and still do) some self-arrest skills for such situations.
Every time I follow someone who is much faster than I am, and I keep up (which I do), I get scared. I guess it doesn't even count. But this year I have better information on how to keep my skis carving in that situation; I am determined to gain more control and should experience fear less often.
Twice I fell on a steep icy double-black (White Heat, Sunday River) and slid almost all the way down head first looking at the sky. The slope was long but empty of obstacles and I slid to a stop when it got less steep. So embarrassing, as the chair goes up one side of the slope, of course. That was back when I was just learning. I needed (and still do) some self-arrest skills for such situations.
dburdenbates
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Hubby and I were barely intermediate skiers when we were at Wolf Creek in CO after a 21 inch dump. We accidentlly got on a cat walk that had waist deep powder. Trudging through that stuff for what seemed like hours to find a way down that we thought we could handle, I had basically given up hope and was resigned to waiting for the ski patrol to find us. I'm not sure how, but we finally made our way down in a not-so-graceful manner, I'm sure.
A couple of years ago I got off the K-1 Gondola at Killington and began to drift blindly (blandly) down—I think—Cascade. Except that the whole thing was a solid sheet of ice, and I couldn't even get as far as the initial dropoff before I freaked out completely.
I figured that if I kept going I could make it down to a cutoff where another trail goes off to the skiers' left—but when I got closer to that one I saw that not only was it just as bad as the one I was on, but getting onto it would have involved navigating a narrow ice-encrusted gully and hopping over an exposed twelve-inch pipe.
So I did what any sane person would do.
I collapsed straight down onto my butt.
Which meant that I began instantly to slide toward the dropoff, which I was pretty darned sure would have killed me if I'd gone over.
So I dug in with my poles and dragged myself to a halt, somehow got my skis off (stupid, I know, but I did it anyway), and—finding purchase with my bootheels, my poles, and my skis, like some kind of bizarre and imperiled six-legged insect—managed to inch my way off the trail and into the basement of the lodge.
I'm sure everyone watching had a great time.
I figured that if I kept going I could make it down to a cutoff where another trail goes off to the skiers' left—but when I got closer to that one I saw that not only was it just as bad as the one I was on, but getting onto it would have involved navigating a narrow ice-encrusted gully and hopping over an exposed twelve-inch pipe.
So I did what any sane person would do.
I collapsed straight down onto my butt.
Which meant that I began instantly to slide toward the dropoff, which I was pretty darned sure would have killed me if I'd gone over.
So I dug in with my poles and dragged myself to a halt, somehow got my skis off (stupid, I know, but I did it anyway), and—finding purchase with my bootheels, my poles, and my skis, like some kind of bizarre and imperiled six-legged insect—managed to inch my way off the trail and into the basement of the lodge.
I'm sure everyone watching had a great time.
liquidfeet
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Molly, that's a great laugh. Thanks. I've done the same. Applause is called for, along with congratulations on being resourceful!
pinto
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
Molly said:
I've done the same thing -- okay, I wasn't skiing, but back when I lived in Wash DC, we had an absolutely insane ice storm. One to three inches covered everything ... I'd never seen anything like it (I'm from Colorado, we don't have that here).
I lived close enough to work that I could walk, so I thought I'd give it a go. I was amazed that once I stepped outside my apartment, it was a perfectly smooth sheet of ice all the way to the door of the building across the street, like a Zamboni had been there!
Anyway, I made it about a block, crawling up a hill, and then said, "To hell with this," sat on my butt, and scooted back home.
I really think I can do anything. It may take a kick in the but or a shove from a companion, but once I go beyond my comfort zone, I usually get the biggest high from the extra level of the sport I achieve.
Even if it doesn't look pretty, or if it takes me a while on my first try. ;)
Even if it doesn't look pretty, or if it takes me a while on my first try. ;)
Back before helmets were the "norm", I was taking a high-speed cruise down Willoughby at Burke Mountain. Before I knew what was happening, my skis went out from under me and I wacked my head HARD on some hardpack. Got an immediate headache. Scared me enough that I stopped at the Village Sportshop in Lyndonville on the way home and bought a helmet!
smpayne
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
I was 6 my brother was 3, it was our first time on skis. My brother turned toward the tow rope and couldn't stop or turn left and he ran right into it. He had a rope burn across his face that went from his right eye, down under his nose and across to his left cheek. I refused to turn right (toward the tow rope) after that, I was terrified the same thing would happen to me. I still stear clear of tow ropes to this day and I tend to default into a left turn when I get scared, which usually ends up with me landing on my left hip as I try to stop.
Lola
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
I know that we are all going to Stowe this weekend, but I have to say that, my scariest experience was at Stowe.
We were in line for the gondola and my 4-year old son fell, and his ski boot got caught between the gondola car and the cement floor. The gondola was moving and dragging my little boy with it across the cement (thank God he had a helmet on). I remember screaming "STOP! STOP! STOP!" very loudly, but to me, it seemed like ages before the attendants stopped the gondola. Anyway, they had to swing the gondola car away so that he could crawl out from underneath it. I was sure that his leg was maulled, or broken, or contorted somehow.
But he got up, brushed himself off, and said, "Mom, the gondola tried to eat me!"
Well, he wasn't hurt. And I remember riding the gondala up the hill sitting next to him and crying and laughing at the same time. Tears of relief and laughter at a near tradegy. Of course, with my Dad and my husband along, we had to ski down to the gondola and ride it again to prove to all of us (my son included) that the gondola was safe to ride.
That was my scariest moment on skis . . .
Lola
We were in line for the gondola and my 4-year old son fell, and his ski boot got caught between the gondola car and the cement floor. The gondola was moving and dragging my little boy with it across the cement (thank God he had a helmet on). I remember screaming "STOP! STOP! STOP!" very loudly, but to me, it seemed like ages before the attendants stopped the gondola. Anyway, they had to swing the gondola car away so that he could crawl out from underneath it. I was sure that his leg was maulled, or broken, or contorted somehow.
But he got up, brushed himself off, and said, "Mom, the gondola tried to eat me!" Well, he wasn't hurt. And I remember riding the gondala up the hill sitting next to him and crying and laughing at the same time. Tears of relief and laughter at a near tradegy. Of course, with my Dad and my husband along, we had to ski down to the gondola and ride it again to prove to all of us (my son included) that the gondola was safe to ride.
That was my scariest moment on skis . . .
Lola
