The hike down Steens Mountain Canyon began on a chilled Tuesday morning. 20 girls packed in an old and dusty military tent that trapped the freezing air. It was 5:00 in the morning and we were getting ready for Big Day: hiking down into a canyon for 21 miles and back up. We would have to run along rivers and cross multiple streams. It started on a steep terrain overflowing with bushes and weaving through the obstacles. I stiffly sat up to remove my big puffy jacket, and the first layer of sweatpants that I had buried myself into. I unzipped my sleeping bag and a freezing gust of cold air blew toward me. I crept out of the tent, gazed upward to look at thousands of flickering stars, and then made my way to the tables to make my lunch. The …show more content…
I had know idea what it was going to be like and a lot of past campers had told me that it was going to be challenging. We lined up in single file, girls in the front and guys in the back and we started making our way down. I remember thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?” and “Will I finish alive?” We started walking on a crummy gravel path and it got harder the longer we trekked. We reached some snow patches that took us a while to cross because people were slipping. Once the snow melted, the terrain got steeper and there were large rocks and boulders along the trail. We were jumping down and taking long strides over large gaps. The rocks started to fade out and turn into more prickly dehydrated bushes that were planted all around, covering the trail. and it smelt of sagebrush. The trail got more narrow and the forest of shrubs were as tall as our waists. The dirt was turning into mud, and we were making our own paths. As we were treading down the canyon, my legs were being attacked by the shrubs that laid on the ground, leaving scratches and bruises everywhere. Every step I tumbled into the mud and my ankles were swollen from twisting them after every step. My fingers were numb and turned into sausages. As the day went on, it only got hotter and harder to breathe because of the altitude. Pain shot up to my neck whenever I tried to look up because my eyes were glued to my feet to make sure I wouldn’t
There is a serene moment when reading John Muir “A Windstorm in the forests,” that rushed through me. Which can only be described as a rush of emotions that one might face when returning home after traveling for so long. I feel that this response is so far harder to write than I could have imagined it to be because the forest Muir is describing within his story, within the Sierra Nevada is one that I grew up with. The same ones that I spent my summers and winter breaks at, I feel a slight struggle when trying to describe my response because I didn’t realize how much I miss all of that and how many of my memories are surrounded by that forest. Reading Muir story brought back the images of seeing stretches of land covered in an endless amount
We sat there for a few more minutes then I got up and yelled for everyone to get ready to start moving again. I donned my pack and tightened the straps, and after making sure everyone else was ready, started off down the winding trail to the night’s campsite.
Zig-zag, back and forth, down, down, down, Jonathon, Dad, and I went into a mysterious new world. Now that I have gone into this hot, dry canyon surrounded by monstrous hoodoos, I have seen what it is really like to leave the small town of Seymour, and emerge into the greatness of this world. I have now seen several other National Parks on one of the most renowned places on earth for mysterious creations, the Colorado Plateau. Of all the beautiful places on it, even the Grand Canyon, I have found my favorite one. Bryce Canyon National Park. I thought it was amazing, because it was the most diverse to anything I have ever seen before. We hiked down into it and I felt like I was surrounded by skyscrapers. We trekked around a little, but we didn’t
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
The drive to cross the Kentucky border had taken hours and hours of strenuous patience to finally arrive in another state. The view was by far country like as hints of cow manure could be smelled far from a distance. We drive through small towns, half the size of our hometown of Glen Ellyn had been the biggest town we've seen if not smaller. The scenery had overwhelmed us, as lumps of Earth from a great distance turned to perfectly molded hills, but as we got closer and closer to our destination the hills no longer were hills anymore, instead the hills had transformed to massive mountains of various sizes. These mountains surrounded our every view as if we had sunken into a great big deep hole of green pastures. Our path of direction was seen, as the trails of our road that had followed for numerous hours ended up winding up the mountainous mountains in a corkscrew dizzy-like matter.
We were surrounded by old trees and spotted lots of cacti. We would also see a few squirrels here and there. Our trail had a view of the other side of the mountain which was stunning. We
There were a great many sights to see and memories to be made as we traversed across the beautiful landscape. The trek consisted of two ten mile segments so the younger scouts could just do one part if they became exhausted, but the older scouts were encouraged to tackle the entire journey. As we camped that night, we were able to use our leadership skills in order to delegate to the younger scouts the preparations that needed to made in order to create an organized
My legs ache from this long, treacherous hike. As I walk up the rocky, steep trail, my feet start to slip, but I regain balance before I fall. I shiver from the extremely cold temperatures, and my body starts to go numb. Soon I realize, my body can not take this hike for much longer. When I find a nice place to rest and make camp, I pray that there are no bears or other predators that are looking for a feast. Just as I was about to get some sleep, I hear a loud noise, coming from the mountains. I look over and see an avalanche coming down straight towards me. I grab all my stuff and start running the other way, trying my hardest to get away from the rocks tumbling towards me. This extreme place is located in the Rocky Mountain Range, and is the highest point in Colorado and the rocky mountain range.Mount Elbert has an impact on animal's, temperature, and the steepness and extremeness of the mountain.
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...
In hiking, as in life, there are choices between success and pain, pride and safety; this is the story of one such choice. Last summer I participated in the Rayado program at Philmont Scout Ranch. The eighth day of the trek was my crew’s greatest challenge: Super Black Death, a hike of seven peaks in one day.
I looked upward towards the midnight colored sky at the bright specks of light that seem to organize themselves into what we call constellations. The talking and laughing of my mom and brother are what pull my gaze from the beautiful night sky towards the bright crackling campfire and the smell of the smoky wood that is being slowly eaten by the flames. The sweet smell of the marshmallows roasting and the warmth of the blazing fire beacon me towards it as it is a cold fall night. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees and the smell of pine meets my nose as the wind pulls the leaves off of the trees nearby. I sit in the folding chair set up near the fire and I reach out letting the flames warm my cold hands.
Even from the very beginning, I started out on the courageous path. I had been sick the week leading up to the trip, but no, I didn't let the fear of being stranded sick in a tent in the middle of the dessert hold me back. It was a beautiful early afternoon after the last half-day of school before spring break, and I was getting in my car totally distraught over my parent's decision that I would not go on the trip. (After all, they had only let me come to school that day because I had to take a math test.) After tossing my books in the back seat of my car, I casually cruised over to the microbus where Stuart, the trip leader, and the rest of the climbers were busily making final preparations for their departure.
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.
In the distance, the trail along which I had been walking wound through a thick velvet fog. Lining the path were tall trees that stoo...
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