Descriptive Essay about skiing.
The morning air brought chills across the land. Trees shook and snow flurried about the ground creating the mountain smog. The cold metal of the chair lift endured the morning breeze comfortably, while the two on it sat silently tucking themselves away from the frigid air. Puffs of clouds rose from both of their mouths as they breathed in the rejuvenating gusts, only to disappear from sight within a few seconds. The quiet breath of the mountain and the groaning of the iron monoliths holding the two companions was all that was heard.
The lift dragged the onlookers forward, pushing through the morning breeze. Their suits could not have contrasted more. The sitter on the right wore pale blacks, blues and whites that matched the colors of the mountain. The mountain's own blood was put into the suit he wore. The sitter on the left wore a dark yellow jacket, whose tone jumped to the eye. The jacket emitted a radiance that drew the attention and opinion of all, but the lift sitter was content his choice of non-conformity. They both sat with their chins tucked into their jackets and their arms glued to their sides, just like a child might when things do not go his way. Their skis looked like modified rainbows and illuminated the white backdrop of snow that lay below them.
The main peak of the mountain lay ahead of them, and two other peaks stood out at both left and right. The mountain ridgeline hugged the chair lift and extended far back behind the skiers creating a winding valley. Beyond the ridgeline to the right lay an open meadow high in the Sierras that was invisible to the lift sitters. A gap between two peaks to the left revealed the breathtaking view of Lake Tahoe. A blue blotch on an evergreen canvass. The land was carved out to perfection, leaving no detail, however miniscule, out.
A blue sky hung over the mountain, with the sun hanging from it, pouring its rays into the valley. The colors were radiant and jumped out at the lift sitters who sat with a patient excitement. Pure white snow lay directly below. As the eye traveled further away, it grew sparse and littered the ground instead of submerging it. Early winter snow seemed to compliment every part of the mountain. It covered the mountain's scars and blemishes, yet intensified its beauty. Rocks sat half covered with their rusty reds and mellow browns painting their picture on the slopes. Young trees poked out of the snow just as a child leans out of its crib, trying to fight the confines that had been set upon them. Resilient weeds were yet to be covered, leaving them to become the mountain's unshaven stubble. The battle between Mother Nature and her nemesis Weather left beauty all over. It was truly a battle worth reminiscing.
This nature found its way to the hearts of the onlookers not only for its elegance, but also for its glorious gift of skiing. From its gentle slopes to the steep pitches, the mountain gave its gift to everyone. As the lift came over a knoll, the corduroy groomers lay visible for all to desire. The snow making machines worked all night to present this little tract of heaven for the early morning skiers to truly enjoy. As the lift sitters waited with anticipation their bodies grew warm and jittery. A state of total concentration began to overtake them, and the mountain air slowly intoxicated them.
The skiers reached the end of their seemingly infinitely long lift ride and jumped out of their lift seats. They stood over the virgin snow and took in her beauty, reluctant to hurt it. Slowly the skiers overcame their apprehension and creeped onto the slope. The snow squeaked as if laughing with delight with each turn the skier made. A mask of serenity overcame them as they looked on and let their legs do the work for them.
New lift sitters watched the skiers with envy, who looked like ants from such a distance. The mountain had delivered its gift to the companions and reassured its majestic wonders. It was truly a solitude worth seeking.
The lift dragged the onlookers forward, pushing through the morning breeze. Their suits could not have contrasted more. The sitter on the right wore pale blacks, blues and whites that matched the colors of the mountain. The mountain's own blood was put into the suit he wore. The sitter on the left wore a dark yellow jacket, whose tone jumped to the eye. The jacket emitted a radiance that drew the attention and opinion of all, but the lift sitter was content his choice of non-conformity. They both sat with their chins tucked into their jackets and their arms glued to their sides, just like a child might when things do not go his way. Their skis looked like modified rainbows and illuminated the white backdrop of snow that lay below them.
The main peak of the mountain lay ahead of them, and two other peaks stood out at both left and right. The mountain ridgeline hugged the chair lift and extended far back behind the skiers creating a winding valley. Beyond the ridgeline to the right lay an open meadow high in the Sierras that was invisible to the lift sitters. A gap between two peaks to the left revealed the breathtaking view of Lake Tahoe. A blue blotch on an evergreen canvass. The land was carved out to perfection, leaving no detail, however miniscule, out.
A blue sky hung over the mountain, with the sun hanging from it, pouring its rays into the valley. The colors were radiant and jumped out at the lift sitters who sat with a patient excitement. Pure white snow lay directly below. As the eye traveled further away, it grew sparse and littered the ground instead of submerging it. Early winter snow seemed to compliment every part of the mountain. It covered the mountain's scars and blemishes, yet intensified its beauty. Rocks sat half covered with their rusty reds and mellow browns painting their picture on the slopes. Young trees poked out of the snow just as a child leans out of its crib, trying to fight the confines that had been set upon them. Resilient weeds were yet to be covered, leaving them to become the mountain's unshaven stubble. The battle between Mother Nature and her nemesis Weather left beauty all over. It was truly a battle worth reminiscing.
This nature found its way to the hearts of the onlookers not only for its elegance, but also for its glorious gift of skiing. From its gentle slopes to the steep pitches, the mountain gave its gift to everyone. As the lift came over a knoll, the corduroy groomers lay visible for all to desire. The snow making machines worked all night to present this little tract of heaven for the early morning skiers to truly enjoy. As the lift sitters waited with anticipation their bodies grew warm and jittery. A state of total concentration began to overtake them, and the mountain air slowly intoxicated them.
The skiers reached the end of their seemingly infinitely long lift ride and jumped out of their lift seats. They stood over the virgin snow and took in her beauty, reluctant to hurt it. Slowly the skiers overcame their apprehension and creeped onto the slope. The snow squeaked as if laughing with delight with each turn the skier made. A mask of serenity overcame them as they looked on and let their legs do the work for them.
New lift sitters watched the skiers with envy, who looked like ants from such a distance. The mountain had delivered its gift to the companions and reassured its majestic wonders. It was truly a solitude worth seeking.