Lehigh Valley is covered in snow, which reminds me of the first time I tried skiing. I was in 7th grade when I signed up to go on a ski trip with my church youth group to Bear Creek Mountain Resort (although back then it was called Doe Mountain). As we pulled up to the base of the mountain, which was brightly lit in the night sky, I was in awe - although now, with all the terrain parks, halfpipe and massive slope-side resort, it's even more impressive!
After figuring out how to get those rental boots on, I walked out to the man-made-snow-covered mountain holding my pair of rental skis and polls pointing in all directions. I was wearing jeans, my winter coat, some gloves and an ear-warmer. Looking back, I realize I must've looked completely clueless! But, wait, it gets better!
I was signed up for a lesson on the bunny hill. I don't know if I missed the explanation of how to use the rope tow or what, but when the time came for me to grab the moving rope that was going to pull me to the top of the small hill, I totally biffed it! I gripped the rope so tight it jerked me off my feet, face first up the slope. My knees buckled, so laying on my stomach, my skis were now tangled in the rope, which was still moving me up the mountain. They had to stop the whole thing to untangle me. And because I was wearing jeans instead of snow pants and rolling around on the snow, I was soaked, looking like I had a major "accident." How embarrassing!
Unfortunately, that's where my memory fades, but I didn't give up. I joined ski club at school, got my own pair of skis, boots and poles (along with a pair of ski pants), got a season pass for Blue Mountain (check out this doozy of a story) and eventually made my way to Vermont and Montana. But it all began at a little place in Macungie!
Anyone else care to share their embarrassing "first time on skis" story?