Montana, the state known for being the fourth largest state in the United States. Glacier National park is there in the northern part, close to the canadian border. I had the joy -and misfortune- of visiting a couple years ago. The air at 15,000 feet is cool and crisp, and there is a slight breeze. Nothing overpowering but enough to be noticed. Given the joys of living in the northern Michigan where everyone simply called it God’s country, a breeze like this was completely normal and none of us had noticed it. If it hadn’t been for an unfortunate mistake on my part, I probably would have never noticed it. We had just stopped to take a look at the gorge that had formed where the water that had melted off the glacier and surrounding snowfall …show more content…
The water still surged in between my legs as I stood completely soaked to the bone. I realized just how fast the water was moving. The signs that they had posted everywhere about the fast moving water were something I should have paid more attention to. As I got to the edge where I could climb out, there was my mother with the camera taking pictures of my own stupidity. That was the defining moment for Montana; those few seconds of adrenaline filled terror. That slight mountain breeze now was bone chilling. Luckily, the truck wasn’t parked too far away and I had a change of clothes available. This little joy ride had lasted for only a couple of seconds. I swear to this day that someone higher decided to smite me that day but in a hurry changed their mind. Probably was a good thing I hadn't been wearing my glasses or I would have lost them for sure. I came close to the edge of death that day, and this would only be the second of several close encounters with death.I almost lost the game that day. Made me realize how special the gift of life really is. This does not stop me from bragging about my encounters however. Never have I been in a severe life threatening situation, so I can not say that I have been to the edge but I feel like I have been as close as one could
Montana is a part of the country that many people do not know much about its history. Montana is divided into two parts, East and West. Eastern Montana is part of the Northern Great Plains and has played pivotal roles in American history since the early 1800’s. Western Montana is a history made up of gold rushes and the Copper King Marcus Daly. The history of Montana is that of many tales from Montanan Indian Tribes going back hundreds and thousands of years before American expansion into the region. On the other side we have white settlers from areas throughout the US and European countries, especially settlers from Germany and the Scandinavian countries. The settlers were brought to Montana by the promise of the American Dream of having a chance at striking it rich from mining or having the chance of owning your own piece of land from the Enlarged Homestead Act.
The day was the usual hot, dry arid time although Autumn seemed to be approaching. I rose with a terrible cough that left me stranded in bed all morning. Which for my usual self is unheard of. I knew David had passed by my room at least once and heard me coughing like a dog, how couldn't he? I had been all morning. I did summon the strength to stand myself upright and only to set out the table for when the Hayden’s were to return.
Within Colorado’s borders lies the home of 104,185 square miles of geology. Within those 104,185 square miles you will find many different types of sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic rocks. Colorado is split into five physiographic provinces: the Middle Rocky Mountains, the Wyoming Basin, the Colorado Plateau, the Southern Rocky Mountains, and the Great Plains (“Physiographic,” 2013). Inside these provinces are millions of years worth of geological time that tell a story of volcanic eruptions, uplift and erosion, deposition, and metamorphism.
Where I come from, the vast land stretches on for miles, filled with dancing corn and wheat fields. Turn one direction and look at the clouds of dust rising off the gravel road, then turn the other way, that's about all there is to see here. A town of two stop lights. As you are driving, don’t blink, you may miss this little place. Some people may say there isn’t much to miss anyway, but I’d beg to differ. This is the place where I met and grew up with lifelong friends.
Horses, Indians and Cowboys have been around for many of years. Imagine the West without horses- no swift ponies, cavalry steeds, or stagecoach teams. No spirit guides, wild mustangs, racers, or rodeo broncos. Actually Spanish conquistadors brought horses to North America as late as the mid-1500’s. Horse culture dominated the West until the arrival of trains and automobiles in the twentieth century. In the art of the West, the always popular horse is a timeless icon. Native Americans are also a favorite in western art. Often they have been portrayed as mythical figures- sometimes as primitive people living in an undisturbed wilderness, at other times
My sweat soaked shirt was clinging to my throbbing sunburn, and the salty droplets scalded my tender skin. “I need this water,” I reminded myself when my head started to fill with terrifying thoughts of me passing out on this ledge. I had never been so relieved to see this glistening, blissful water. As inviting as the water looked, the heat wasn't the only thing making my head spin anymore. Not only was the drop a horrifying thought, but I could see the rocks through the surface of the water and couldn't push aside the repeating notion of my body bouncing off them when I hit the bottom. I needed to make the decision to jump, and fast. Standing at the top of the cliff, it was as if I could reach out and poke the searing sun. Sweat dripped from my forehead, down my nose, and on its way to my dry, cracked lips which I licked to find a salty droplet. My shirt, soaked with perspiration, was now on the ground as I debated my
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
Immediately, I angled my position and went for a dead sprint toward the water. I jumped off the cliff. I never felt anything like it; the trajectory had me flying through the air for longer than I expected. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through my body, bringing a new sense of life to me. The scorching heat went away as gravity pulled my body toward the water, bringing me a pleasant breeze through my fall. Then, I finally hit the water. I didn’t stick a solid landing, as I went head first into the water. I panicked and opened my eyes under the murky water, only to see nothing but dirt and sediments float around me. I kept sinking and saw a monstrous fish swim right in front of my face. At that very moment, my body went into overdrive, and I managed to project myself back up to the surface.
Walking through the woods never fails to clear my mind. After spending all day sitting in a stale classroom, filled with stress, confusion, and overwhelming responsibilities, taking a long stroll through the familiar woods behind my grandmother’s house lifts any worries that could ever weigh me down. I never wander through aimlessly. I always follow the trail of grass that has been deliberately cut down shorter than the rest, making it easier to tread through to the small creek at the end of the trail. The entire journey through the woods behind my grandmother’s house, there and back, first took on a whole new importance in my life during my junior year of high school.
I did it. I jumped off. The cold air hitting my face as I plummet towards the gravel. Some panicking, some remained still. I heard one lady scream. Crashed. The pain jolted throughout my body. It didn't hurt as much as the realisation that I didn't succeed. I was still alive. People started to surround me, some dialing 911 to seek for professional help. A man was telling me "Hold on, you'll be fine". I didn't want to hold on.
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
After three hours we arrived at our first break stop. We stopped at a section that was on top of the waterfall. The view was amazing and spectacular because we had never seen anything like this. As we continued our hike after several more break stops, and nine more hours of hiking, we finally arrived at the top of El Capitan. Once we got to the top the view was amazing. We could not imagine how beautiful it was up there on top of the world. After about half an hour we started heading back down, when all of a sudden out of no where I felt someone push me out of the way. A man that was in a hurry to get back down pushed me so hard, that I lost my balance and fell of a twenty foot cliff. At that moment in time I could see flashbacks of my life. After a couple seconds of falling I somehow landed between two rocks which shattered my right foot. After that happen every one that was there tried to get help but unfortunately cell phones do not work in Yosemite, but the man that pushed me over the cliff had a walky-talky and he called for help.
For those who like winter sports like skiing and snowboarding, we have just the perfect place- the remote yet very popular mountain resort called Balea Lake.
I think we all have a beautiful place in our mind. I have a wonderful place that made me happy a lot of times, years ago. But sometimes I think that I am the only person who likes this place and I'm asking myself if this place will be as beautiful as I thought when I will go back to visit it again. Perhaps I made it beautiful in my mind.
This area of the world is so foreign to my Oklahoma life; it infuses me with awe, and with an eerie feeling of being strongly enclosed by huge mountains, and the mass of tall trees. However, when my foot first steps onto the dusty trail it feels crazily magical. The clean, crisp air, the new smell of evergreen trees and freshly fallen rain is mixed with fragrances I can only guess at. It is like the world has just taken a steroid of enchantment! I take it all in, and embrace this new place before it leaves like a dream and reality robs the moment. As I turn and look at my family, I was caught by my reflection in their impressions. The hair raising mischief in the car was forgotten and now it was time to be caught up in this newness of life. It was as if the whole world around us had changed and everyone was ready to engulf themselves in it. The trickling of water somewhere in the distance and the faint noise of animals all brought the mountains to