Descriptive Essay About My Best Friend

We were all encouraged to choke down as much food as possible. Any kind of energy was essential. A melancholy atmosphere hung heavy as the journey progressed. Minutes walking slowly progressed into hours, the sky seemed to darken steadily. All of us were oblivious to the danger shrouded by the dim evening. Only moments after scaling a rather steep ledge did nature dice to turn sour. A deafening rumble made each climber perk up. Snow began to descend at an alarming rate. Thunder began to mic the steady beating of a drum, causing more concern among the ranks of climbers. The powdery snow became more of a risk than ever, climbing under pressure and leaving nothing to stand on. Third base was more than three hours away. Three hours wasn't possible at the rate. Snowfall this bad could be detrimental to the climb’s success. Snow obscured vision and numbed faces. Shouts and orders deemed lost in the screaming wind; people’s figure became shapeless blurs frantically shifting, hoping if they struggled against the wind hard enough, they might find someone. Of course, this was to no avail. Not a single person doubted their demise would come at this point: the stakes were high and no-one could play too well against Mother Nature. The snow crept up to knee-level, making it harder and harder to travel. Death and I were face-to-face. To some, they couldn't bare the idea of dying up here; they had families and friends, children who need parents and

story, at camp it snowed during the night, they expected the snow would stop soon, and they will attempt to make it the

As I jump off the pontoon, I feel the freezing water surround my body. I'll slip on the boots of the skis and grab the handlebar. Releasing my grip, I put one thumb up into the wind to signal I’m ready to go. Suddenly there is a tug on the rope, and I’m being dragged through the water. Pressing the skis against the cold water, I can finally stand up above the waves. The boat pulls me around the bend of the lake, and the view of all the enormous cabins is thrilling. The seniors on the campground beach will clap and stand up from their Adirondack chairs to wave or whistle. As my legs begin to feel tired, I wave one last time and let go of the handlebar. I can feel my body quickly sink down into the water; the life jacket on my chest will be

As I heard my alarm clock go off at two in the morning, feeling prepared mentally but not physically. My mind,at that point in time raced with thoughts and expectations, although my body felt like it wanted to die. Finally dragging myself out from under the soft covers, I pulled my gear to the bed of the truck and threw my bag up over the side of the truck's bed,-- hearing a giant thud from the heftiness of my pack. I felt mixed emotions coming from my body, my mind ready and my body said: “go back to bed hate you, I hate you, I hate you”. As soon as I plopped myself into the truck squished with three people in the back seat, after about five minutes of driving all three of us passed out fast asleep. The moment I woke, pulling into the parking lot of Mount Washington, New Hampshire I felt ready. When I stepped out of the car, I threw my hands in the air, the best feeling of stretching after a car ride. I look up to see this mountain completely covered with snow and only one round part completely treeless; that's where we hiked too. Strapping my fifty-pound pack on my back containing ski boots, skis, poles, winter gear, and food felt more tiring than it should have.

Once my dad arrived, we were on our way. I jumped out into the first park that we came to and the fresh new powder exalted me. We then rode over to our friend's cabin to say hello and have a Pepsi. We asked our friend, Bob to come along for the ride and he was delighted to join us. From there we cut across flat lined Twin Lake and then across the untracked Eggleston Lake. To my unpleasant surprise, we approached the lodge, and sleds were buzzing around like crows on road kill. Ten miles down the road I expected to, at least, see some other people riding, but we had the whole mountain to ourselves. We rode from mountain to mountain, crossing open drainages and gigantic playgrounds of snow one after another.

I watched the mountain recede into the dust cloud stirred up by the car as we drove down the access road and had the feeling we'd left something important on that mountain. I wasn't sure what. It would be decades before I'd figure it out. We left two of my favorite people in all the world up there. Dad had dropped off a pair of child grubs who had returned a week later like a pair of moths that had escaped the confinement of their chrysalises. Steve and I came off the mountain, unrecognizable from the worms we had been, to fly away and leave our child-selves behind.

Before the night was over my son, Nathan, convinced me to switch to snowboarding. It would be a decision that I would later question and chase as I strove to master it. “Master” it—ha! What a laugh. I must have thought I was Sean White or something. I would be lucky just to make it off the ski lift without breaking my arm, and after an evening and a morning of snowboarding, my elbow and hips were so black and blue, my wife persuaded me to stop

Mom and I got up early and started coffee and breakfast for everyone, and my dad and sister joined us in the kitchen after they both got their showers. We got our equipment, headed down to the lift, and rode it halfway up the mountain. The lifts were the only time that any of us regretted not wearing heavy coats. When you’re on the ground, the trees block most of the wind, and you’re actually moving and active. Sitting on those lifts, though, you were too high to have the thick forest to protect against the wind, and you were stuck sitting still.

After a good night’s rest, we headed off to the trail. We had to take frequent breaks, because the air was super thin. The trail was rocky, uneven, and slippery. If I were to fall that would be very very bad. I thought it was easy, but then the impossible happened.

It is early October, the final weekend of the mountain biking season at Northstar Ski Resort. I am waiting to load my bike onto the lift. There are long lines for everything, because the place is packed. Riders rocket down the mountain, sending cinnamon colored dust into the air. A breeze blows this across the hills. The trees are green, and the afternoon sun warms the ground. The time of day makes it a bit chilly. The metallic noise of bikes can be heard, but not always seen. The sound of both joy and pain fills the air around me. I can smell only the wonderful scents of trees and overpriced food. I suddenly feel a nudge on my shoulder.

It was a chilly Sunday afternoon with blue skies and all the makings for a good day of early season skiing on that fateful November afternoon. The day was winding down, the Broncos had just kicked off, and my friends and I had just leapt off the chairlift to embark on our last run of the day. All was well on the way down, a blur of orange jerseys rushing by as I sped down the mountain making the most of the last run of my day. Upon our final few turns of the afternoon, I found myself in a predicament that would later shape me into the person I am today.

I slowly crept around a corner engraved by the trail of smashed snow, getting ready for the huge drop. Of course, I made my uncle go first because like always, I am a scaredy cat. He softly drifted smoothly across the surface, spraying snow all around the backs of the skis. Turning around, asking for an applause, he smiled and chuckled like the hill was a breeze. My huge feet clomped loudly on the surface of the snow. I positioned myself forward and pushed off with my poles. The rushing wind paralyzed my face as I tried to focus on my path. The bushy trees zoomed past me, giving me this rush of adrenaline. I finally came to a halting stop right next to my uncle and waited for the others to join

For my entire life as I knew it, I had been skiing. Ever since I was a little, chubby four-year old, tumbling right off the magic carpet like a glove in the dryer every time it shuddered even just the slightest bit, I’d been on skis. And I was more than satisfied with that. It was the same every Saturday afternoon during winter: my mom would spend almost an hour smothering me in layers upon layers of fleece, coaxing my pudgy legs into my snow pants, and tugging at me and attempting in vain to force my feet into my hand-sized ski boots, haul after heave, until I was finally ready to hit the snow. And then I would realize I had to go to the bathroom. Eventually, I think it got remotely easier as I learned how to do it myself, although I absolutely despised putting on my boots myself and the suffocating heat of one too many layers, as hot as the elementary school classrooms that year when all the air conditioners decided it would be a good idea to stop working in June.

The moment I believed would mark one of the best summer day of my life. As I got on the ride I slowly buckled up and my hands immediately grabbed on tightly the metal harness. While waiting on the people to start the machine I was closing my eyes and imaging how it would feel. Suddenly my feet were off the ground and I found myself looking up. At first I did not dare look down, for I thought I would start panicking. I quickly looked down and saw lights then looked back up. While it arrived to the highest point I said “This is a precious moment in your life, just take the time to look at the beauty in front of you.” I started to look down and got to see the whole park. It was like seeing Christmas lights, it was bright with different colors. Instantaneously the ride dropped, I felt as if my heart was going to come out of my body. I screamed so hard that I could feel my veins in my head accumulating the blood from the pressure of the ride and from me screaming. It stopped half way and it took us up again. This time it did not go all the way, but it slowly went up and once again it quickly went down. At the end of the ride, as my feet touched the ground I was so thankful to God that I made it through without having a heart attack or panic

As we grow older, we meet new people and make new friendships. Out of all the people you meet there is always that one friend that you click with the most. That being said a best friend is someone you look out for and care for like sibling. As we grow older we have a perception of growing old and having your best friend by your side, but I came to the realization one morning that it is not true. I found out my childhood best friend past away from a drug overdose.