CMYK
Active member
Grammar Nazi's welcome too. This is a fictional story I wrote for my AP Language and Composition class about an interlodge day at Alta. Unfortunately, I have never been snowed in at Alta. If any locals wouldn't mind proofreading it for details, it would please me greatly.
StartFragment
Music
is blaring. Shower, food, clothes. All are done but immediately forgotten,
blending into the thousands of other times that I’ve followed the same routine.
I open my door and the rain and cold hits me, finally jarring me from my half
conscious state. It’s way to early. Its 5:30. That’s way too early, even for
Utah. The plane ride is
uneventful; except for the flight attendant giving me the full can of soda
(Score!). As we touch down on the rainy runway, I look up to the cloud-shrouded
mountains and smile, because when it rains in Salt Lake City, it’s snowing in
the mountains.
The
rental car is hastily packed and soon we are speeding off towards Little
Cottonwood Canyon. Halfway up the rain turns to snow. Good sign. I look by the
side of the road, cars that had parked there this morning are snowed in up past
their headlights. Great sign. The man at the check in counter of our hotel
informs us that this is just the beginning of a weeklong storm that’s supposed
to deposit over a foot of snow per day. Amazing sign.
Bags
are thrown open, bathing suits found. There is nothing more relaxing then
sitting in a hot tub while it snows all around you. The snow is different then
on the east coast. The flakes are large and perfectly crystalline. They don’t
fall, they float. And they were floating. Hard. As we ate in the bar connected
to our hotel, the word interlodge was often heard, whispered, hinted at.
According
to Alta’s official website interlodge is
When the chance of an avalanche
is likely and the Alta Marshal deems the area unsafe , The Town
of Alta goes into an interlodge alert.
This is when all occupants must go inside a building and stay there until
the area is determined to be safe again
What it really means is that as soon as your let outside,
you have the best mountain in the world, with the best snow in the world, for
the exclusive use of you and anyone else lucky enough to be above the avalanche
gates.
Unfortunately,
it was not to be. I still had the time of my life though. The amazing thing
about soft snow is the fact that it makes everything less scary. I charged
lines, jumped cliffs and slashed turns like I never could have in the east. I
fall asleep a happy man.
And
I’m woken up a scared one. Cannons are being shot off in the distance. Quickly,
and without warning, I’m herded into the hotel’s dingy basement. The booms are
dampened, but not my excitement. I know if were in the basement, that means the
avalanche danger is extremely high. High enough for an intelodge. The few
locals who were lucky enough to be on dish duty last night confirm my
suspicions. They huddle together in the corner, whispering about places on the
mountain that only they know about. I let them be. I have other ideas.
We
are released, and it’s a mad dash to the lifts. Everyone goes for the quad:
quickest ride to the top, and the best terrain with the least hiking. I make my
way to the old double, a relic from times past, kept mostly for show. I’ve got
a plan though. I came out to Utah to experience the best skiing in the world.
And that’s what I was planning on achieving today. Purely, Simply, the best run
of my life. Period. The double squeaked and strained as I began to collect
myself on the ride to the top. I get off the lift and ski. Two feet. And then I
take off my skis, sandwich them together, sling them across my back, and begin
hiking.
Since
I was the first one up, and the only one hiking there was no bootpack for me to
follow. It was almost impossible
to go on, the snow came up to my waist every step I took. The snow flurries
began to subside and in the distance, I could see my goal. The Baldy Chutes.
After an hour and a half of grueling hiking, I stood atop them, looking down.
The storm had completely cleared, offering me a complete view of Alta. I saw
specks weaving down all the trails. Soon I will join them. I peer over the edge
and drop in. I sink down into “the greatest snow on earth” and slowly float up.
I slash a turn sinking back down then ascending upwards once again, repeating
this over and over again as I hoot and holler. Once I reach the bottom, I hop
on the quad. Once was enough. That’s what I came here for. One run of perfect
bliss
EndFragment
StartFragment
Music
is blaring. Shower, food, clothes. All are done but immediately forgotten,
blending into the thousands of other times that I’ve followed the same routine.
I open my door and the rain and cold hits me, finally jarring me from my half
conscious state. It’s way to early. Its 5:30. That’s way too early, even for
Utah. The plane ride is
uneventful; except for the flight attendant giving me the full can of soda
(Score!). As we touch down on the rainy runway, I look up to the cloud-shrouded
mountains and smile, because when it rains in Salt Lake City, it’s snowing in
the mountains.
The
rental car is hastily packed and soon we are speeding off towards Little
Cottonwood Canyon. Halfway up the rain turns to snow. Good sign. I look by the
side of the road, cars that had parked there this morning are snowed in up past
their headlights. Great sign. The man at the check in counter of our hotel
informs us that this is just the beginning of a weeklong storm that’s supposed
to deposit over a foot of snow per day. Amazing sign.
Bags
are thrown open, bathing suits found. There is nothing more relaxing then
sitting in a hot tub while it snows all around you. The snow is different then
on the east coast. The flakes are large and perfectly crystalline. They don’t
fall, they float. And they were floating. Hard. As we ate in the bar connected
to our hotel, the word interlodge was often heard, whispered, hinted at.
According
to Alta’s official website interlodge is
When the chance of an avalanche
is likely and the Alta Marshal deems the area unsafe , The Town
of Alta goes into an interlodge alert.
This is when all occupants must go inside a building and stay there until
the area is determined to be safe again
What it really means is that as soon as your let outside,
you have the best mountain in the world, with the best snow in the world, for
the exclusive use of you and anyone else lucky enough to be above the avalanche
gates.
Unfortunately,
it was not to be. I still had the time of my life though. The amazing thing
about soft snow is the fact that it makes everything less scary. I charged
lines, jumped cliffs and slashed turns like I never could have in the east. I
fall asleep a happy man.
And
I’m woken up a scared one. Cannons are being shot off in the distance. Quickly,
and without warning, I’m herded into the hotel’s dingy basement. The booms are
dampened, but not my excitement. I know if were in the basement, that means the
avalanche danger is extremely high. High enough for an intelodge. The few
locals who were lucky enough to be on dish duty last night confirm my
suspicions. They huddle together in the corner, whispering about places on the
mountain that only they know about. I let them be. I have other ideas.
We
are released, and it’s a mad dash to the lifts. Everyone goes for the quad:
quickest ride to the top, and the best terrain with the least hiking. I make my
way to the old double, a relic from times past, kept mostly for show. I’ve got
a plan though. I came out to Utah to experience the best skiing in the world.
And that’s what I was planning on achieving today. Purely, Simply, the best run
of my life. Period. The double squeaked and strained as I began to collect
myself on the ride to the top. I get off the lift and ski. Two feet. And then I
take off my skis, sandwich them together, sling them across my back, and begin
hiking.
Since
I was the first one up, and the only one hiking there was no bootpack for me to
follow. It was almost impossible
to go on, the snow came up to my waist every step I took. The snow flurries
began to subside and in the distance, I could see my goal. The Baldy Chutes.
After an hour and a half of grueling hiking, I stood atop them, looking down.
The storm had completely cleared, offering me a complete view of Alta. I saw
specks weaving down all the trails. Soon I will join them. I peer over the edge
and drop in. I sink down into “the greatest snow on earth” and slowly float up.
I slash a turn sinking back down then ascending upwards once again, repeating
this over and over again as I hoot and holler. Once I reach the bottom, I hop
on the quad. Once was enough. That’s what I came here for. One run of perfect
bliss
EndFragment
