Ski binding

ready to reach the other peak, Castle Rock. I am tired, my body heat is rising, thirst and hunger send waves through my body, making it difficult to progress. My skis and poles are heavy and walking with my ski boots through the knee-deep snow makes it difficult to continue. I can feel bruises forming on my shoulder from the rigid bindings. The heat, even in the cold Vermont weather, fills my jacket and face. My throat is dry and I finally resort to eating some snow around me. The cold snow slides

waterski. I have had my fair share of wipeouts and successes. Wakeboards, jump skis, slalom skis, I have learned them all, and I am pretty good at them too. Since I felt comfortable water skiing, I thought snow skiing would not be much worse. One of the first times I went snow skiing, it was with my friends Dominic and R.J. We were at Hidden Valley, clearly the highest quality ski slope in North America. Once we had rented our skis, we headed out. My friends then told me to come to a certain slope with

I heard a soft whooshing sound as my skis slid across the soft powdered snow, which glistened in the winter sun. I felt practically no wind and it was the perfect temperature to prevent both slush, all in all the conditions were perfect for a day of skiing with my family. I was accompanied by my mom, uncle, and about 8 cousins. We had all woken up at the crack of dawn and began the hour and a half journey to Mount Sunapee, which for us is the prime skiing location. About eight at the time i had only

If the average person was asked what ski racing is they would respond with either a blank look or refer to the olympics. They might be able to explain the idea or throw around some famous skiers names. Most likely they would just ponder the question and not really have a clue what ski racing entails. When I tell people I did alpine ski racing in high school they give me looks of shock. Most people do not even realize that it is a high school sport. Growing up in the mountains though it was always

learning to ski is rough for almost anyone you ask. The day before my first ski trip, I could not help but wonder. Was I going to fall on my butt? Would I fall flat on my face? Would I make a fool out of myself? These were all questions that I knew I would soon get answers to. I had built up such intense feelings of nervousness and excitement that I could hardly tell the difference. All I wanted was to make it out alive. I was 12. I had heard the stories from my Uncle Randy about ski trips, but I

Imagine yourself being ferried by one of those gondolas at a ski resort. You see slopes that look like totally awesome places to ski. You ask the guide whether you'll be skiing there and he curtly replies "No," and he points you in the other direction where you see natural scenery with a variety of landscapes. "That's where you'll be skiing." So what is heli-skiing? It's getting on a helicopter and then going to that radical wilderness site to ski. No rules, no artificial snow blowers and nobody to tell

take a look at a few of some of the strangest airports in the world. Courchevel, France If daredevil skiing is your idea of a perfect activity when you’re traveling, then you’ll probably enjoy landing at the ski resort in Courchevel. This incredible airport runway looks just like a ski run, and it is

The very day that we went snowboarding, I had no idea what to wear so I threw on some super ugly 1980’s ski pants that were really worn out, gloves that were not meant for that kind of abuse. I also had to wear an off brand coat for EDU (Every Day Use) and a ripped hat. We get into the car and I have no idea what to expect, I thought the place would be

my day. Upon our final few turns of the afternoon, I found myself in a predicament that would later shape me into the person I am today. An exposed rock, due to the minimal snow conditions of early season skiing, clashed with my skis sending me flying out of my bindings head first into the snow. My natural instinct was to put my hands out to protect my fall, big mistake. The pressure put on my right thumb, due to the immense force of the fall, sent pain shrieking through my body. I knew something

chalet the dim illumination forces me to remove my blackout oakley airbrake goggles, and exposes the golden brown goggle tan contrasting my pale white skin around my eyes. I lazaly approche the dirty blonde haired lady with coffee stains covering white ski jacket at the front desk. “I’d like to join the air and style competition”, I mumbled. “Name and Age”, she questioned. “Spencer Faber, 16 years old”, I lamented. “Here's your jersey,competition starts in fifteen minutes