Right left, right left, parallel skis, watch out for the snowboarder and the kids. These are the thoughts that are whirling through my head as I race my dad back to the lodge. The sharp wind attacking my exposed skin between my goggles and my neon yellow turtle fur. My line of sight is blurred by the wet snow spitting down from the cluster of gray clouds and sticking to my tinted pink goggles. The crackling noise of the ice on top of the packed snow underneath my skis reaches my ears. The sound causes power to run through my body.The power fuels me to increase my speed and ski faster. The trail continues to twist and turn as we fly down Mount Sunapee.

The most memorable part of the winter season has always been skiing. I love the burst of adrenaline that explodes in my body as I ski as fast as I can down the mountain. Being taught to ski in Norway, is one of the my earliest memories. The young, blonde instructor yelling at me to make a pizza with my skis. To make sure that I did wide turns he would try to draw my attention to the woods on either side of the slopes.  “Look there on the right there is a squirrel and look to the left there is a deer.” Of course those quick remarks got me to turn but they left a four year old Alicia in a state of confusion. Since there were no squirrels or deer to be found in the those woods just skiers and snowboarders going by. As I saw them ski by me, I began to understand how much I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be able to go down the mountain freely with no fear and no help from anyone. That thought stayed with me through the whole trip. Arriving back home I started to “practice” so that next time I would be able to be as good as everyone else.

The next time did not come as quickly as I had hoped. It came four years later. Though I was now eight years old, my dream of skiing fast still seemed fresh.  As soon as our car pulled up to the Bretton Woods ski resort the dream started to become reality.  At Bretton Woods, I was able to have another lesson where I was able to relearn my old skills and master new ones. From that day on I knew that skiing would be an important part of my life.

In the Disney classic, Finding Nemo, Dory’s most famous quote was, “Just keep swimming.” This quote got me through the tough learning time as a beginner skier. But since I was not swimming, I changed the words to, “Get to the bottom”. It was my way to encourage myself while learning to ski.   As my skills improved and the trails  got harder this mantra helped me to brave my first black diamond and glades run.

My father wanted me to ski well so he took me often and paid for lessons.   He liked the lessons that taught me to ski without poles and made me ski like that for two years. This is different from most skiers because polls are supposed to help you ski better.This was okay because I was not alone. My close friend Kayla had joined me on this journey. Together our fathers joined forces and started to teach us everything that they knew.

The first lesson from our fathers taught was at Mount Sunapee. They taught us to keep our skis parallel and to make sharp turns. It would help us gain speed and correct our form. This way of skiing was foreign for us, different from the pizza. It was difficult for Kayla and me to learn, but our fathers taught us drawing in the snow and yelling reminders to us while we skied down the slopes. To help us learn faster, our dads decided to go on a steep trail. Kayla and I were both scared so we sat down on the back of our skis and pushed off. Our skis became sleds that had no steering. Quickly, we lost control. We decided it was better to follow our fathers’ instructions. We stood up on our skis and prepared to go down. The fear of falling or crashing was pulsing through my veins as I started to ski down. I tried to make turns as quick as possible to maintain my speed and not fall over. I kept chanting “Get to the bottom” as I skied down to my dad.  Then I stopped beside him, sat back on my skis and collapsed into the snow. I had survived that lesson.

The next lesson was to ski down a black diamond trail. At Sunapee we had to ski down what looked like a right angle trail. While we were standing around, whining about going down, I saw a mother teaching her kids how to go down. I over heard her say to her kids to follow her tracks in the snow. I decided to follow them since they were going down the mountain and controlling their speed. As I started to go down, my father and Mr. Aimone saw what I was doing. They quickly got Kayla, so she could following me. The fear of falling started up all over again like the previous time. But then I started my chant. The trail that the mother had made was easy to follow. After finishing the run, both Kayla and I were very proud. We had done a black diamond without crashing into the snow or skiing into the woods. Dad also told us we had skied in correct form. This caused us to be even more proud. As the day continued we went on more black diamonds for practice. Though we fell some of the time, we were still very happy and proud of ourselves.

Two seasons of skiing passed until our third and final lesson. During those two seasons we kept on practicing by going to new mountains.  At the start of my third season of skiing my dad and Mr. Aimone gave us the best surprise. We were given our own ski poles. This led into the final lesson which was learning how to ski with poles. Ski poles are supposed to assist you with turning. You have to plant them into the ground and then turn. This did cause some difficulty because we were not used to them. As always Dad and Mr. Aimone were there to help. They had us watch them ski with poles down Mount Sunapee. They would also draw out diagrams of how to plant and turn. Half way through the season we finally understood the proper way. As that final lesson ended, we knew that though this was the end of learning from our fathers and we were on our own. But there was a lot more to learn through trial and error.

I continue to gain speed every season in my skiing. With every run I try to go faster as I feel a surge of adrenaline through me. At the end of last year I raced my father to the bottom of Mount Sunapee.  As we approached the lift line we slowed down to avoid crashing with other skiers.
“See I told you I could beat you,” I yelled to my dad through the howling wind.
“Sure, sure, we’ll go with that,” my father said back.
“Fine, if you don’t believe me then let's go again,” I yelled as I got in line to go back up the mountain again.

The lessons that my father taught me have had a big impact on me. Not only did it improve my skiing abilities but it also showed me that my dad was always there for me. He used his own time to teach me these skills. He never gave up on me when I had trouble with something. My father had the patience to teach me from beginning to end. Dad could have just thrown me into ski classes. Allowing him to ski by himself wherever he wanted.  But instead he was there for me and never left. Having understood this, skiing has started to mean more to me than just a sport. This was something that both of us shared together. Other people may be part of it but it would always be ours. We would always get to the bottom together.