By Lucas Gold

I was so happy.

About 4 years ago, when I was ten years old, I had just been let out of school for the winter break, and then Christmas arrived. I couldn’t contain my excitement, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Just when I thought life couldn’t get any better, my parents surprised me with a trip. I had absolutely no idea about the destination, purpose, or who was coming on the trip, given my oldest brother was in Halifax attending university. My parents eventually spilled the details – it was a ski trip to Colorado with our whole family, including both of my older brothers (William and Henry).

Some background information is important to understand this story.

At the time I was terrified of heights. I hated roller coasters, thanks to my older brothers always pushing me to do them, and really any other activity that had to do with being high up and looking down to the ground. It had also been a while since I had last skied.

So you can imagine my mixed feelings of both fear and joy when I did a little research on the ski mountain we were travelling to, named Breckenridge, Colorado, a ski resort that also was “One of the highest mountains that you can ski on in North America.”  I immediately felt butterflies in my stomach. Despite my fear, I was excited to be travelling. It had been a while since I had been on a trip, so I was really looking forward to it and actually packed a week in advance.

Time seemed to drag out the week while I anticipated the trip, until finally, it was the night before our flight. There I was, wide awake after my parents told me to go to bed early and sleep because we had to wake up at 5 AM for an early flight. Of course, I stared at my clock all night and tossed and turned, not getting so much as a wink of sleep because of how excited I was.

“BEEP, BEEP!” My alarm started blasting at maximum volume at 4 AM (It was only on a volume of 2, but of course, I am not a morning person so everything seemed loud at the time). Even though I was over the moon to go on a trip, all I wanted to do was remain in the comfort of my bed. After hearing a lot of “Get up – we have to get to the airport!”, I eventually found the energy to leave my warm bed and make my way to the shower. Afterwards, I looked in the mirror and understood what my mom meant by saying “You look like a raccoon with those eyes.”

Ignoring all the “hurry ups or we will be late,” I moved at a snail’s pace down the stairs and out into the cold morning air, wondering why we were travelling when it was still pitch black out. 

I barely remember sliding into the van arranged for pickup, which was stuffed to the brim with ski gear, and then immediately falling asleep.

When we arrived at the airport and got out of the car, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Every bone in my body seemed to weigh 50 pounds, knowing that I had to drag all our baggage to security. Nevertheless, I sprinted, which was a normal walking pace for my mom and dad, to check in all our luggage and then go through security. As usual, my dad was way out in front of us, with the rest of the family struggling to keep up. There was not much of a line at check-in or security, and I thought that made sense since it was only 6 AM and who else would travel at such a terrible time? Well, as it turned out the whole world does, as US Customs was hopelessly lined up. I watched my dad get more and more impatient as each minute went by, while my mom struggled to keep my two brothers separated from bugging each other. We eventually got through the line and went quickly to our gate.

We thought we were about to board the plane when tragedy struck… an announcement came over the speaker saying our flight was delayed 2 and a half hours! Just my family’s luck—all the rushing and an early wake-up for nothing. I could tell my parents were not impressed after overhearing some coarse language. So we waited, waited and waited until finally, we could board the plane. Unfortunately, the airline switched planes on us and we ended up being jammed into our seats, which were not together. I could see my parents were relieved that m brothers and I were not sitting together to avoid any rough play they could not control from their seats. We took off, and we were finally headed to Denver, Colorado, where we would be picked up for the drive to Breckenridge.

Flying into the Denver airport showed a great view of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains and my tension was building again. We finally landed late in the afternoon and had to walk what seemed like miles in the Denver airport to pick up all our baggage and ski gear and then catch our ride to Breckenridge. While the travel day was long, the drive out of the city and into the Colorado mountains was beautiful. There was not much snow at first, but the longer and higher we drove, the more snow and spectacular scenery we started to see. There were many cool, old towns we drove by along the way and we passed by a couple of other ski mountains.

I was getting tired but became excited again once I saw the “High Altitude” signs for Breckenridge. By the time we pulled into Breckenridge, it was early evening. I remember it being very dry, and I started to get a headache, which my parents explained was from the high altitude. They reminded me that I needed to stay hydrated.

The town of Breckenridge was so pretty at night. It is an old mining town and was lit up with all the Christmas decorations and people walking on snow-covered sidewalks to all kinds of stores and restaurants. Unfortunately, we were all so tired that we drove straight through the town to check into our lodge and unload our bags. I can still remember all the nice logs making up the townhouse we stayed in and the large fireplace and kitchen with windows looking into a forest – it was like a ski cabin in the woods. The best part was there were three rooms, which meant my older brothers wouldn’t fight, and I could choose whose room and which brother I stayed with.

The next morning we all got up late, thirsty and with headaches because of the altitude, but that didn’t stop us from getting our ski gear on. Getting ready is the worst part of skiing, and it is tiring watching my mom and dad run around trying to help each of us with our ski gear—let’s just say some of us need more help than others and there is always one brother who can’t get his boots on because “they hurt or don’t fit.”

It was a sunny, chilly morning with fresh snow and the mountain looked spectacular. From talking to my parents, I knew there were 5 peaks (I could just feel my fear of heights creeping in – I mean 5 peaks!!!) We finished getting ready, left the lodge, got on the chairlift and went straight on to the ski runs.

It was a good thing that the first chairlift we exited put us on a blue run, as my family and I were able to get our ski legs going. I was also able to get my ski crashes out of the way early. Skiing is like riding a bike which you don’t forget how to do, but I always worry until I get on the run and start making turns.

My family had a good first skiing day. Everyone skied at their own pace and on runs they were comfortable with. My mom and brothers like to take it easier than my dad and enjoy everything the mountain has to offer, including taking breaks and getting their ski boots off to eat and drink in front of a warm fire in the ski lodge. My dad is a die-hard skier who drives everyone crazy by not taking a break, always skiing in front of us and wanting to ski in areas no one else is comfortable with.

Towards the end of the day, my family had gone into the ski lodge for something to eat and I was skiing with my dad. We had a couple of runs left in us, and the sun was still out, so you could see the entire mountain perfectly. My dad looked way up the mountain and pointed out the highest-altitude chair on “Peak 5,” which I could see he wanted to go and ski even though it would take 3 more chairs to get up there. It looked like Mount Everest to me, and I started getting this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

I got up the courage to say, “We will ski down that peak at some point while we are on this trip.” In my head, I was thinking the opposite. There was no way that I was getting on that impossibly high chair and skiing down that steep peak. Unfortunately, my deepest fears became a reality when my dad said these 5 words: “ Today is the day, Lucas.” I could not believe my ears, and I only had myself to blame for making the suggestion. He said, “No excuses – you will do great buddy. You are ready for this!”

Looking back, I asked myself why I ever made the suggestion out loud. I must have truly believed that I wanted to conquer my altitude fear or maybe I was just trying to please my dad…

I wiped the sweat off my forehead from the fear I felt, braced myself and got ready to board the first chair up, then the second and the third. Those seemed like the longest chair rides of my life. The third chair was so high that I couldn’t look down, and when I did, all I saw was this massive, steep bowl. My dad didn’t pick up on my fear and kept going on about the snow and how lucky we were to be skiing on such a beautiful day.

As we neared the top of the Peak 5 chair lift, I braced myself for what could be my last day on the mountain—or the planet for that matter. Getting off the lift, I took a deep breath and realized the bowl was actually very nice – almost inviting. The snow was fresh, and the sun was out.

Usually, my dad races off first and then waits part way down for me to ski to him. Instead, he took a picture of us at the top of the bowl and pointed out a way down. He didn’t realize that I was not paying attention to him. I was just completely focused on conquering my fear and skiing this bowl.

Things got real very quickly, and much to the surprise of my dad I took off like a rock shot out of a slingshot. I had trouble catching my breath at such a high altitude, and my skis crossed over one another as I had one last look at the ground. The ground seemed like a much better place to be than on the chair I had just ridden up. I took another deep breath and suddenly, just like that, I was zooming straight down the bowl without a care in the world. For some reason, everything just became natural; my turns were straight and perfect, and I was placing my poles properly and staying on top of my skis. The more turns I made, the more confidence I had and suddenly, I skied to the bottom of the bowl, coming to a perfect parallel stop that kicked snow up into the trunk of a nearby tree.

For once, I watched my dad ski down from up above cheering and hollering at me about what a perfect run I had. Right then and there, my fear of ski heights became non-existent, as I had just conquered the peak or “Peak 5” in this case. Rather than shying away from this challenge, which I sometimes do in life, I really wanted this for myself. It is easy to take shortcuts in life, but there was no shortcut down Peak 5, and I was proud of myself for taking the challenge head-on.

The sun was getting high and starting to set, and the lift was going to close shortly. My dad and I looked at each other and without even speaking, we got back in the Peak 5 chair lift line and conquered the peak twice.