So you think you can ski?

My younger brother and I were taught how to ski at a small ski resort in McHenry, Md. Before I even made it out to the bunny slopes, I poked myself in the eye with my pole, losing my contact in the process. I recovered the contact only to have the wind blow it off my glove.

It wasn't a good start.

Half blind, I struggled to get my skis on my boots, fell countless times, lost my other contact, and could not grasp anything past the pizza/french fry ski position until I face-planted the mountain wall.

Five years later, I still consider myself a novice skier, but I'm much better than I was that first day. I have skied throughout Maryland and Pennsylvania, so I was an East Coast skier.

But, this past weekend, my skiing experience was extended to the West Coast when I traveled with my family to Breckenridge, Colo.

I quickly learned that East Coast skiing is a world apart from West Coast skiing.

My father's friend, who grew up outside of Pittsburgh but now lives in Denver, acted as our guide on the slopes. Knowing that all of us had to get used to the altitude change and the harsh weather conditions, he took it easy on my family and me. All of us had to get used to the changes and the sound of dynamite exploding every 20 minutes or so which acted as avalanche prevention.

It was the first time I had been skiing since December  2010, so the first trail we attempted was a nice green circle, which on ski maps means only a step above bunny slopes.

At least, that is the case in the East.

The trail started smoothly enough, with wide paths, smooth powder and no dramatic declines. Then we moved on to more trails, and as the lift rides got longer and longer, and as we traveled farther up the mountain, the little "green" trails became increasingly harder. Mountains on the East Coast typically peak at about 3,000 feet above sea level, but the peak of the mountains at Breck reached 12,000 feet.

We had about five runs down the mountain that day. The runs were much longer than those of my previous skiing experience, and it us took more than half an hour to reach the bottom of the mountain each time.

Although I was able to keep myself on my feet the entire first day, it was incredibly difficult, and I dreaded moving on to the intermediate blue trails. I bet I could easily be pointed out as a newbie or just a dumb East Coast skier not able to handle the more challenging West Coast slopes.

The night before our second day of skiing, the town was hit with more than 10 inches of fresh snow. If that happened to almost any town on the East Coast, that town would shut down. But in Breck, it was no big deal.

As I watched skiers slide through snow up to their knees, I became terrified. Then I saw the cliff that began the blue trail my little brother swore I would be "OK" on.

Despite the fact that we learned how to ski at the same time, my brother is an incredibly athletic 13-year-old who can ski far better than his nerdy 21-year-old sister. He was dying to do black diamonds on our first day in Colorado, but both parents restricted him.

Needless to say, I was not OK on the blue trails.

These trails had slopes that were as steep as East Coast black diamonds and had moguls over six-feet-tall that covered entire trees. At times, the fresh snow was much harder to maneuver in because it was incredibly thick and seemed to fight against you. Other times, the snow hid small layers of ice lying beneath and caused me to go faster than I intended. The trails also had tree lines in the middle, unlike the eastern resorts I had been to, which I had to avoid — or at least tried to.

I fell at least a dozen times.

Half of those falls were intentional because I couldn't think of a better way to stop myself from skiing to my death into the trees or off the cliffs. I was scared out of my mind of the sharp edges, steep slopes and West Coast expert skiers who were too close for comfort.

Yes, I was scared out of my mind. But I had a blast.

I discovered that skiing out in Colorado was much harder than I ever expected it to be. Now I am more confident in my skiing abilities and might even brave a few East Coast black diamonds, because I met their equal out West.

By the end of the trip, my brother was sporting a sticker on his helmet that read "I'll be interested when you learn how to ski" with the ski resort logo on it. (Not that he's allowed to be interested in girls.) I will probably never be as good as him, but we both have set a new life goal of splitting the cost of a house in Breck someday so we can ski out there when we are older with our families.

If you think you have already learned how to ski, but have only skied on the East Coast … think again.

Katie Walsh is a junior English and philosophy major and can be reached at walshk2@duq.edu.