Cover Photo: A breathtaking winter landscape from the top of Cascade, a blue slope located at Snowshoe Mountain Resort.
D&E Student Blog: This blog post was written by a D&E student, Martina Paredes, in the ENGL 326: Writing for the Community course as a collaboration with Augusta.
Winter in West Virginia always arrives in unpredictable ways. Winter lovers, like myself, wait impatiently for the first snowflakes; we check the sky every hour, just watching and waiting. It can be overwhelming sometimes, not knowing what the season will bring us.
About three years ago, I came all the way from Argentina to work as a ski instructor for the 2022-2023 winter season at Snowshoe Mountain Resort, one of the largest winter East Coast ski resorts in the mid-Atlantic. At first, I thought it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but then I decided to give it another try and came back for the 2023-2024 season. The Snowshoe community is very small, so we get to know each other well. During my second season working there, I simply couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this incredible place and its community, so I decided to stay for as long as my heart desires. It has now been a year since I became part of Appalachian culture, and so far, life has been incredible.
One tradition we all share up in the Allegheny Mountains is preparing our winter equipment and gear in October. For some reason, every year we hope for 40 inches of snow while it’s still over 50 degrees outside—kind of silly, if you ask me. But by October, we’re ready for whatever plan Mother Nature has for us. We’re ready to have fun with her.
This winter, the first storm hit us in November—48 inches in less than a week. Insane. The news traveled quickly through the neighboring communities: Elkins, Marlinton, Buckhannon, Cass, Lewisburg, and beyond. Soon, hundreds of us gathered at the top of the slopes, bundled up in multiple layers, skis in hand, simply admiring the breathtaking beauty before us—beauty that would be ours for the next four months.
A view of skiers as they reach the bottom of a hill at Snowshoe Mountain Resort.
The first time I ever skied was three years ago, during my first time at Snowshoe and at any ski resort. Even after all these years, standing at the top of a slope and looking down always takes my breath away. It gives me a rush of adrenaline first thing in the morning. The mountain stares at me with defiant eyes, as if she’s daring me, calling me a coward. But between me and her, we both know—I always win.
One particular morning, I woke up with more adrenaline than usual. To make things worse, I added a 12-ounce cup of coffee to my already shaking body. I geared up and, together with my boyfriend, went to challenge the mountains. But there was a reason behind my nervous energy. I had been skiing for three years, yet I had never found the courage to face the most intimidating slope at Snowshoe—until that morning.
Lower Shay’s Revenge is known as the mountain that ends the holidays of many visitors and locals alike. Frightening, intimidating, mocking. At Snowshoe, you’ll find many types of slopes: the Green Slopes—gentle, friendly, always fun; the Blue Slopes—sometimes moody, sometimes playful, occasionally eager to throw you to the ground; and then, the Black Slopes—no joke, no mercy. Only experts can tame them. Those who have battled them for years might dance with them gracefully, but not without falling at least once.
And there I was. Face to face with the most terrifying slope of them all, convinced I was ready. That morning, I stood before Lower Shay’s. I wasn’t alone—my boyfriend, who had conquered this beast eight years ago and remained undefeated, was by my side.
The first half of the slope was exhilarating. We danced with her, carving and spraying snow. Everyone around me was happy, and so was I. “This isn’t so bad,” I thought. But that feeling lasted only two minutes.
Suddenly, I saw people standing still in the middle of the mountain—an unusual sight. Curious, I joined them, only to watch their faces shift from excitement to pure dread. I understood why. We were all staring at what seemed to be a sheer 70-degree drop.
When I say Lower Shay’s was mocking us, I mean it. She lured us in, pretending to be kind in the first half, knowing full well that once we reached this point, there was no turning back. You cannot hike back up. You must finish. You must face her.
It’s crucial to have experienced companions in this battle, especially as a first-timer. As an immigrant, I’ve always feared feeling alone. But I was lucky. I found an incredible group of friends who not only welcomed me as family but also kept me safe. Most of them had been skiing for over five years, so I felt somewhat secure. The people you choose to back you up must be present, vigilant, and ready to act. In an instant, the mountain can drag you down, and your friends must be there to catch you, check on you, and push you forward. They’re also a crucial mental support, distracting you from the battle you’re fighting.
Long story short, I was utterly defeated. I still believe that Lower Shay’s Revenge took it easy on me—considering how many times she threw me down, I’m surprised I didn’t have to call Ski Patrol (our mountain doctors). I honestly don’t remember if I had fun or not; I was too focused on making it down. But I do know that this memory is now forever etched in my heart. The feeling of standing high above the clouds, surrounded by friends who cheer for you, being part of a community that embraces you, and gathering at a restaurant afterward to share stories of our battles with these majestic mountains—it’s indescribable.
Choosing West Virginia as my forever home will always be my best decision. There’s a reason it’s called Almost Heaven, and it’s not just because of the breathtaking landscapes. The community, the mountains, the weather, and the nature make me forget—at least sometimes—that I’m 5,000 miles away from my other home. They make me feel like I’m already in heaven.
D&E Student Bio: My name is Martina Paredes, and I am from Argentina. I am 23 years old, and approximately a year ago, I made the best decision of my life: relocating to Snowshoe, West Virginia, and becoming part of the vibrant community at Davis & Elkins College. Immersing myself in nature has been an amazing experience, and I hope you will consider exploring this remarkable place as well.