Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • When I ski, the normal rules governing my awkward nature are suspended. My clumsiness is replaced by a gracefulness whose origin I do not know. Something happens when I step onto the slopes. I can fly.

    The faster, the better!

    The steeper, the better!

    The deeper, the better!

    There's nothing quite like flying through the trees in knee-deep powder on a beautiful, sunny day. I can't imagine a better sport, where you can be so physically challenged, in a solitary world of your own, while surrounded by the awesomeness of nature. The mountain cannot be conquered, but it might let you feel that way for an afternoon.

    As you pick up speed, you separate from your friends and your breathing mixes with the sound of the skis carving the turns. Suddenly you look up, catch a glimpse of the mountains around you, and then quickly focus back on the trees flying by around you.

    A helmet is required.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.