Trip Diary: Mammoth Mountain: Ski Bunnies


The mountain on our last day! [I wasn’t even skiing that day; I just have no pictures of me falling down and getting snow up my parka.]

Hello, everyone! I just got back from a 7-day long vacation in beautiful Mammoth Lakes, California.  Some days were spent skiing, most days were spent being sore from skiing… But hey, I had a wonderful time! I was staying with my friend her family, so shout-out to them for putting up with me and the small point and shoot I brought along for this trip.


Gondolas by the Village bus stop.

Day One was largely uneventful, with most of it spent trapped in a car and getting the necessary supplies for our stay. When we reached our condo, I had to suppress a little squeal of excitement–my family is more into tents than actual buildings with plumbing when it comes to overnight stays. I had the coziest little corner bunk bed [top bunk!] and felt lovely and warm.

Day Two was less warm. First thing in the morning, we got our stuff together to head out skiing. I actually haven’t been alpine skiing in a good 7+ years, but I had clear memories of my childhood spent coasting down mountainsides, so I was pretty confident that I’d be fine.


Getting ready to go!

I was… well, I was kind of right, but I also have some bruises to show for my hubris.


By the bus stop.

Unfortunately, there was a whiteout that day. The longer we stayed out on the mountain, the worse it got, and the bad weather conditions and my own natural  athletic inability lead to me pretty much falling down the entire length of the mountain. [Cue funky cartoon music and a giant snowball with legs and arms sticking out rolling leisurely down the slopes.] After only my first run, I gave in and retreated into Eagle Lodge to sip hot cocoa and guard the gear.


Much better.

My next attempt at skiing was a few days later, on Day Four. Determined to take it easy without wasting my $290 3-day lift ticket, I took the initial intermediate run down to Canyon Lodge at a slow pace, still managed to fall over at least twelve times in the process, then spent the rest of the day hopping around the bunny slopes. I even met up with another friend from school, who was gracious enough to ski with me and about 50 seven-year-olds, despite the fact that she herself was basically a seasoned professional. It was a beautiful day, thankfully, with a perfect blue sky, and I even managed to make the easy-intermediate run back down to our home base without falling over too often.

top of the mornin

No, Alyssa, I do not feel the need for speed. I can’t even drive on the freeway.

Conclusion? Skiing is fun, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be a fan of hurtling down a mountain at high speeds with nothing between me and death but two aluminum sticks. 


I’m really running out of pictures.

Happy New Years, everyone! Although that concludes my ski adventures, there are a lot more snowy Mammoth posts to come. [Plus, some past-year reminiscing]


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