Skiing in Steamboat Springs

A whopping 6,732 feet of altitude and the flight of soaring skis start of the best vacation a girl could ask for! This spring break, I visited Steamboat Springs, a wonderful trip of chilly weather and beautiful mountainsides! From playing cards with loved ones, shredding the slopes and touring the village, this vacation was definitely one of my favorites.

Skiing with family is filled with both fun and competition! Beginning in Ski School allows us to catch up from the break, increasing the chance of higher ranked runs! This trip, my cousin Henry and I participated in lesson Teen Six, a course consititing of blue to black slopes, including moguls and tree trails. It was absolutely AMAZING! I have never experienced something as nerve-racking and exhilarating as sliding through bumpy tree trails and dodging vast patches of ice.

Skiing is an astonishing sport; I adore the wind and cold frost building up on my goggle lense—the crunch of my skis smoothing the snow under my boots, and the fire glowing in the village, bellowing warm smoke from its wood.

Although this may be one of my favorite sports, challenges may occur. During my time in Colorado, I fell trying to shuffle up a ski slope and wiped out—skis and poles coasting down the hill. Sweating through my jacket, I walk down through the trees to level land, glad for the minor incident.

Still, the challenges and efforts make the sport a event worth waiting for and at the end of long day, the best part is the after effect of happy exhaustion. I am so excited for next years adventure!

Steamboat Springs, CO!
Photo by me


Winter softens and the birds call their loves. The sun shines above and the grass pops up, gleaming brightly with dew. A white glaze covers my window, a sheen so clear that warm air lightly touches the edges. Raindrops leisure down to where the frame work meets the ground. I look out to the trees, tiny buds on the branches, like little children growing into toddlers, maturing with flying colors. It went by in a blink, the cold— the frost, that I jump out of bed to truly open my eyes to watch green nature sway like the outside is alive.

I put on my coat, for my skin creates tiny mountains in the chill of the breeze. My hair rubs on my face as it passes with ease. I slip on my running shoes and jog to a beat. I jog quicker until I break out a sweat but the wind wipes it away as if saying, “summers not here yet!”

Farther down the neighborhood I slow my pace, watching the flowers dance in water streams running along the corners of the road as if following me home from their journey from the tree. I stop in the driveway, five steps from the door, and look out at the backdrop before I enter my place of comfort once more.