Lone Palm The river trip is a camping trip near the Georgia coast that my dad and his friends have gone on since 1998. Every year during my youth, my dad would make preparations, and I would ask, “When can I go on the trip?” He would always say “You can when you get older.” until he relented and allowed me to go at age twelve. From that moment, I began counting down the days. The time until I turned twelve felt like an eternity to my young self. When the time finally arrived for me to prepare for the trip, I was in a state of disbelief; the long-awaited moment had come. The first two days of the tip went smoothly like calm seas in the bay. The last day, well, not so much. The beginning of the day was much like the first two. We then had the
FANTASTIC idea to take our small fifteen foot boat to the “Big Blue” also known as the Atlantic Ocean. We traveled in two boats, as one boat was not large enough for all of us. When we reached the “Big Blue”, we quickly realized that our small boat was no match for the massive Atlantic Ocean. We elected to return thinking we were the smart ones as the rest of my dad’s friends continued their journey to the “Big Blue”. We soon discovered that we were not as intelligent as we thought. We were on our way back when suddenly a jolt of the boat threw all of us into the floor of the boat. As we gathered ourselves off the floor, we realized we were stuck on an island with little water around us and a lone palm tree in our path. My dad’s friends quickly began to push the boat back into the deeper water. It was pointless. We were not going anywhere until the tide came back in. Since I was only twelve, my dad wanted me to be back safe at camp. The other boat came to the rescue like superman saving a cat trapped in a tree. I mistakenly believed I was out of danger and that I would soon be near the safe comfort of the fire. I was not even close. My journey was only just beginning. For the next three hours, we proceeded to drive around in circles getting stuck on every sandbar possible. It was pitch black dark with only a meager spotlight to light our way. Each way we turned looked the same in the darkness of the night. As I sat there listening to the argument over which direction to go and shivering from the cold, I wondered if we were ever going to return to camp before daylight. After several hours, we decided to try one last path to make it back. This turned out to be the golden road that would lead us back to safety, but not before we nearly collided with a sailboat and ran out of gas. After we MIRACULOUSLY reached camp’s safety, my dad and his friends surprisingly got back no more than fifteen minutes after we did. I would have endured the same amount of exposure to the elements had I just stayed with my dad. To this day, none of us know how we made it back that night. I had never been so happy to be on solid ground. The memories I made on that first river trip are unforgettable. From the excitement of the thought of making it to the “Big Blue” to the despair of being stuck on an island, the experience will stick with me forever. As long as I live, I will never forget the image of that lone palm tree in front of us as we sat on the Georgia shore.
Imagine waking up to beautiful freshwater streams and wildlife foraging through the mountainside. This is what citizens of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee get to wake up to ever day. Pigeon Forge is a small town near the border of South Carolina. It sits along the edge of the Cherokee National Forest and on the west side of Little Pigeon River. It is not only located in a beautiful area, but also a thriving area economically speaking. Overall, Pigeon Forge is a family friendly place where people can not only live in a beautiful city, but also exciting environment.
A little over three years after the expedition began, it finally ended in ST. Louis. Most people think that Sacagawea was the ONLY guide for the expedition but that’s not true. Even though she was the most helpful, Toussaint and about 24 others came along. People learn about her in school and think she was a heroic guide, which she was, but really, her life was hard and sad (Sacagawea:childhood).
To me, the drive felt like forever even though it was only 35 miles from Petoskey to Mackinaw City. As 10-year-old me sat in the back seat of my mom’s car, I remember repeatedly asking the question most parents dread to hear, “are we almost there?” Every time I asked she would shake her head in bemused frustration and respond, “you’ll know when we get there”. At the time, I was not sure what I was most excited for: the ride on the ferry, the big horses, the historical fort, the inevitable delicious ice cream; it all sounded whimsically amazing and I could not be more excited to arrive on Mackinac Island.
Before 1700, Californians lived in the mountains, deserts, and the coast. Natives who lived in mountains and valleys hunted deer, elk, bears, and other animals. They gathered acorns, berries, and seeds. People who lived near the coast ate fish, shellfish, seaweed, and sea mammals for food. Desert dwellers ate pinons nuts, yucca roots, and a cactus plant fruit. They adapted to the way of life in the mission. Mountain natives built houses from poles. They would bend the poles to make a cone shape. Desert dwellers would make their house from Adobe. Natives living near the coast make their houses out of straw.
I never wanted to leave. I truly thought my life was ending on that August day in 2010 as the Peter Pan bus pulled off the dirt bumpy road in New Hampshire on its trek back to the Bloomingdales parking lot in Connecticut. The night before, I stood on the shore of New Found Lake looking out at the horizon on my last night, arm and arm with my sisters, tears streaming down our faces as our beloved director quoted, "You never really leave a place you love; part of it you take with you, leaving a part of yourself behind." Throughout the years, I have taken so much of what I learned those seven summers with me. I can undoubtedly say that Camp Wicosuta is the happiest place on earth; my second and most memorable home. Camp was more than just fun even as I smile recalling every campfire, color-war competition, and bunk bonding activity I participated in. It was an opportunity to learn, be independent, apart of an integral community, and thrive in a new and safe environment. I recognize that camp played an essential role in who I am today.
The battle of Heartbreak Ridge was also known as the battle of wendengli. It was a month long battle in the Korean War which took place September 13 and October 15th, 1951. The Battle of Heartbreak Ridge was one of several major engagements in the hills of North Korea a few miles north of the 38th parallel. The attack began on September 13th and quickly deteriorated into a familiar pattern. First, American aircraft, tanks, and artillery would pummel the ridge for hours on end, turning the already barren hillside into a cratered moonscape. Next, the 23rd’s infantrymen would clamber up the mountain’s rocky slopes, taking out one enemy bunker after another by direct assault.
The greatest explorers of the west Lewis and Clark, but they did not go alone to explore the west they had a marvelous woman to help them in their journey. Sacagawea earned the respect of Lewis and Clark because she proved herself in many trials during the expedition. At the age of twelve Sacagawea was captured by a neighboring tribe and they made her a slave for that tribe. Sacagawea would then be won by her husband in a poker game, which would lead her to the meeting of Lewis and Clark. During the expedition Sacagawea would also care for her newborn child (Hoose 130-132). Sacagawea is a legendary women still to this day for people and has memorials dedicated in her honor for the Lewis and Clark expedition. Sacagawea's life as a guide
Another issue with race is Miamifield’s community perspective and involvement with it. Miamifield community members have been sharply criticized for ignoring the history and literature of racial minorities in the United States and the world. Adults in the local African American, Latino, and Asian American populations had recently formed a coalition demanding that a series of eleventh-grade ethnic studies courses be developed and offered as alternatives to any student who might wish to study American history or literature from a different perspective. This caused a conflict in the community. But the former mayor insisted that ethnic-studies courses are themselves racist since they identify race as a central element of each person rather than
I felt dizzy and didn't know which rod I was at the end of," (White, 181). The author has a hard time letting go of his old past and live as an adult in the present. I feel that he urges for the freedom and adventures he used to get when he was a little boy. He wants to feel and enjoy things in the same manner a child would. It seems that he does not feel ready to move on and take his place as the man of his household, but instead looks for the child he used to be within his own son. Moreover, he does not want to accept that he has grown old and in a way he has become his father. The trip to the lake awakes intense emotions that provokes him to think back to his childhood and makes him realize that his is no longer that little boy, but a father with
Willow Glen is a beautiful community located in San Jose, California. It is a favored neighborhood to many because of the local independent businesses, specialty shops, the amazingly diverse architecture, a wide variety of restaurants, and the outstanding downtown area that many are fond of visiting. While many find Willow Glen a wonderful place to visit, it's also a spectacular place to live because of the defining Willow Glen real estate market and a true feeling of community.
Driving to a new place, I embraced the surrounding that I was witnessing for the first one. When I got out of the car the gravel crunched under my feet. My family and I walk up a long, skinny board walk approaching the front entrance. As I looked out the front windows all I could see was the beautiful view of Lake Travis. Walking out I saw rows of tables that had umbrellas on top. There was multiple different levels that you could sit at all looking out at the same mesmerizing view. Looking out over the lake I felt a sense of home.
One of the most appealing things about living in Pittsburgh is the collection of distinct cultural neighborhoods. The Bloomfield neighborhood is a prime example of how unique and memorable each part of Pittsburgh can be. Bloomfield is regarded as Pittsburgh’s Little Italy, and both residents and visitors have much to enjoy in the way of restaurants, shops, and local cultural attractions. The following highlights will give you a good idea of what to expect if you’re planning to visit or move to this quaint neighborhood. If you’re planning a trip to Pittsburgh, you won’t want to miss the opportunity to explore the Bloomfield neighborhood.
It was our fifth day in the Philmont Scout Reservation in New Mexico, the halfway point of the trek. I as the Crew Leader was responsible for the other 11 members of the crew, including 4 adults. I was in charge, and amazingly the adults rarely tried to take over, although they would strongly advise me what to do in some situations. Phil, with the exception of me, the oldest scout and the Chaplain for the trip, was my second. Together we dealt with problems of making sure everyone carried the right amount of stuff in their pack to who had to cook and cleanup each day. The trip had gone well so far, no injuries, and the worst problem had been a faulty backpack. As I walked I thought about the upcoming campsite. Supposedly this one had running water from a solar powered pump—so had the last night’s site but the tank was too low to use for anything but cooking because the of how cloudy it had been of late. But today was bright and shinny, and hot, so I didn’t think there would be a problem.
It was a breezy and cloudy June morning as I made my way through Door County traffic. My best memory was driving up here was when I was about 10 head dangling out the window as the wind blew in my face. As I drove through the small towns I saw the rustic houses, cute cafes, and pedestrians enjoying their day. I drove a little farther and suddenly saw the great and sparkling blue Lake Michigan and the ferry dock where I would soon be boarding. This would be my 100th time on this boat going to Washington Island, but I knew would still get the same sick feeling. I slowly approached the ticket booth, purchased my two-way ticket, and pulled onto the boat. It was a windy day and the waves were splashing high on the side of the ferry. I got out of
I’ve always had a rush of angst surge through my veins when thinking about my future, because most of my family comes from a long line of high school and college dropouts. This subsequently led to the urging of my family to get a life career around my middle school year. I’ve never understood the appeal of a family and kids, not in any cynical way, I’d just rather experience the world more before having children. What I’ve always wanted to do is travel the Earth. It’s a simple dream, but for me it’s a way of life I’ve always wanted to implement, but couldn’t. Ever since I was a kid, the one thing that made me happy was going to new places outside of Fresno, and California, but now I’ve gained an appreciation for nature and my surroundings, which only pushed my dream to new heights. To experience the world is to experience life, I say. I’ve already made a decision with a loved one to do this together in the years to come after college. After college, I have a choice to do this, save up as much money as possible for gas and hit the road while playing Rocket-man by Elton John.