No Hope in New Zealand

One moment I was on top of the world, speeding down the hill on some rickety hire skis with a smile as wide as the run. Three seconds and a side-of-the-hill baby jump later and my glorious childhood memory would be forever tainted by a near-death experience.

I was a fresh-faced thirteen-year-old; my uncontrollable frizz shoved under a multi-coloured beanie that complemented the creamy outer-layer of my five-shirts-deep ski gear. No doubt, I was the perfect snow bunny.

Caught up in the excitement of seeing snow for the first time, my sister and I were officially on the last run of ski school celebrating three successful days and no serious injuries. I had perfected my pizza stop and could manage the occasional parallel turn. I considered myself now a pro skier who could conquer even longest bunny hill detours and survive milliseconds of millimetre high airtime. All of that after three days of ski school huh? Pretty impressive, I know.

Perched on the frozen metal of a chairlift, we watched as the slopes splurged out below us, preying on experienced off-track adventurers. Under the direction of our Canadian ski instructor, we sped along the green route, snaking a trail of over-confident beginners. With a spray of snow, she stopped to warn us that she was detouring over a jump built into the side of the hill, and that one-by-one we could take our chances and have a go!

The little tucker who led the pack went first but couldn’t gain the momentum for his tiny eight-year-old body to get up and over. Slowly, the next two took their chances – one made it, the other chickened out. And then it was my turn.

With my eyes on the prize, I sped toward the goal. “Make the jump! Make the jump!” Hello new friends, my name is determination and I WILL get over this jump! But then all too quickly I went up and over and was barreling down the other side at an Olympic-medal-worthy speed. With horror in my eyes and a scream on my lips I crashed into the orange rope barrier, thanking every god I had ever prayed to that from my hips up, I was cushioned by snow and unforgivingly tangled in the rope. As I lay with half my body dangling over the edge of a cliff, telepathically giving my sister funeral instructions, I waited for the safe hands of life to pull me back onto a solid, albeit snowy, floor.

From a peaceful family holiday in the snow to this life-threatening predicament; how on earth did I end up here!?