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My First and Last hike in Poly Canyon
I knew it was coming. A couple weeks before, I received an introductory email from my instructor explaining the textbook we needed and providing a link to the class website. I selected the link and navigated curiously around the site, arriving at last at the class itinerary. To my horror, I saw planned on the third class day a “moderately strenuous hike over steep, rough ground.” Subsequent readings of this statement produced the same result, and so I resigned myself to impending doom.
And so it was that I found myself standing on a dirt and gravel road, surrounded by equally sleepy classmates at 7:30 am, Monday morning. We all huddled within our baggy jackets, unconsciously mirroring one another in loose jeans, gray or black t-shirts and scuffed, dusty running shoes. In contrast the instructor appeared wide awake and put together, standing before us in a green sweater, pressed khaki slacks and well-worn yet well-maintained hiking boots. He perkily welcomed us to the threshold of Poly Canyon, and with other preliminary descriptions of the upcoming landscape turned and headed down the long, winding service road.
Being so close to the pacific coast- a mere ten or twelve miles- a thick marine layer had rolled in during the night, and the waning summer sun had not yet mustered the heat to dispel it. We moved to the crunch and scrape of rubber sole on loose stone, passing ancient monoliths of serpentine stone that jutted from the mountain on either side. Vague silhouettes of live oaks and yucca plants loomed from the morning mist, and occasionally a hoarse crow would cry out. Above and beside us power lines carried electricity to private homes hidden down the road, occasionally...
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...e distant than ever surrounded as I was by other life forms. What, I pondered, was my purpose there? Was I predator or prey, virulent or benevolent, useful or worthless? In nature, the strong and necessary survive and prosper, while the weak and redundant are mercifully removed for the good of the system. I solemnly asked myself which I was, and was relieved when like deer the answer retreated from view, filed away in the archives of my mind for future perusal. Giving Poly Canyon a final glance around, I followed their examples and left that ethereal place to meld once more with the world of Man.
I did not see my instructor nor my classmates again that day, and was content to be left alone with my meditations. It was an experience I would not trade, though I will admit that I am never setting foot in Poly Canyon again; once is definitely more than enough.
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.
The first impression of the Valley-white water, azaleas, cool fir caverns, tall pines, and solid oaks, cliffs rising to undreamed-of heights, the poignant sounds and smells of the sierra, the whirling flourish of the stage stop at Camp Curry with its bewildering activities of porters, tourists, desk clerks, and mountain jays, and the dark green-bright mood of our tent-was a culminations of experience so intense as to be almost painful. From that day in 1916, my life has been colored and modulated by the great earth-gesture of the Sierra. (Fischer 9)
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
...sion Native Americans made a connection with the earth that was an ongoing affirmation to be close to nature. To witness the beauty of the land and all it had to offer them. Seattle’s address took a strong and powerful stance against the Americans, not only did he stand up for his people but he showed the wrong in the Americans. The essay and art work have affected the progress and solidity of the Native American culture in the past and the present. Each piece possess vitality, power and a drive to move forward, they also coincide on different levels where as to the message, that they bring forth understanding the environment and relationship between land, and man.” At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land” (Seattle, 57).
John Steinbeck was a major literary figure in the 20th century and continues to be widely read in the twenty-first century. Steinbeck was born on February 27,1902 (About John Steinbeck) in the Salinas Valley of California. (Laskov) "His father, John Steinbeck, Sr. was the County Treasurer and his mother, Olive Hamilton Steinbeck, was a former school teacher. As a youth, he worked as a ranch hand and fruit picker. (John Steinbeck [2])". "He attended the local high school and studied marine biology at Stanford University between 1920 and 1926, but did not take a degree" (John Steinbeck [1]). Steinbeck's fascination with science and biology is evident in most of his works such as in this quote from the Grapes of Wrath: "Man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up in the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments." (Steinbeck 165) As Steinbeck began his writing career, he took many other jobs to support himself. For a short time, he worked at the American in New York City, and then returned to California where he worked various jobs such as a painter and fruit-picker before taking a job as a caretaker for a Lake Tahoe Estate. (John Steinbeck [1]) His job as a caretaker allowed him time to write and by the time he left the job in 1930 he had already published his first book, Cup of Gold (1929) and married his first wife Carol Henning (John Steinbeck [2]). After his marriage he moved to Pacific Grove, California where, in the early 1930s, Steinbeck met Edward Ricketts, a marine biologist, whose views on the interdependence of all life deeply influenced Steinbeck's novel To a God Unknown (1933). (John Steinbeck [2])
Fox, Lauren. “Study: Immigration Reform Would Boost Tax Revenues,” US News. U.S.News & World Report, 10 July 2013. Web. 18 Apr. 2014.
In A Walk in the Woods our author, Bill Bryson, hikes through the deadly wilderness along the terribly long Appalachian Trail with his humorously witty companion Katz. Throughout the journey it becomes embarrassingly obvious that they will not be able to hike the entirety of the trail. The idea that they will not completely finish it begs the question; have Bryson and his faithful companion Katz actually hiked the Appalachian Trail? Katz gave his own account of whether or not they have hiked the trail when he states,” As far as I’m concerned, I hiked the Appalachian Trail. I hiked it in snow and I hiked it in heat. I hiked it in the South and I hiked in the North. I hiked it till my feet bled. I hiked the Appalachian Trail, Bryson.” (Bryson 271). Bryson and Katz have had both terrible and amazing experiences along the trail, thus it should be said that they have in fact hiked the Appalachian Trail.
John Steinbeck was born in February of 1902 in the town of Salinas, California. He would be the only son of four children (Millichap). He was an avid reader and writer from a young age, and would attend Salinas Valley High School, where he graduated as the president of his class (Bergquist and Millichap). After high school, he would enroll in
3."Music Thought To Enhance Intelligence, Mental Health And Immune System." Science Daily: News & Articles in Science, Health, Environment & Technology. Web. 14 Dec. 2011. .
With Enlightenment came the idea that Man is capable to understand and shape the world that surrounds him. Human beings no longer rely on an all-powerful God that decides everything; in...
To make the model, he attached a rotating paddle to nail brushes (“Alexander Graham Bell Inventions”). As a boy, Bell wondered if when dogs bark if they are actually saying any words. With this curiosity, he invented a robot like item to go down into the dog’s throat to see if the dog says words or not (“Lemelson-MIT Program”). At the age of sixteen, Bell created a windpipe that when blown into it the mouth it would make random words (“Famous Scientists”).In 1881, Bell created a metal jacket that helped people breathe better and more efficient (“Alexander Graham Bell Timeline”). As another way to help the deaf, he created a device called the Audio Meter to tell how well a person’s hearing is. Then in 1881, when President Garfield was shot , they called Bell for help. They called him due to his inventions of the metal detector which would tell the doctors working on President Garfield where the bullet was in his body (“Alexander Graham Bell
Sitting in the back seat between two towering piles of clothes and snacks we drive up the abandoned streets of Adell. I see vast open fields of corn and dense wooded forest filled with life, along with the occasional, towering grain house. We pull into a dry, dusty, driveway of rock and thriving, overgrown weeds. We come up to an aged log cabin with a massive crab apple tree with its sharp thorns like claws. The ancient weeping willow provides, with is huge sagging arms, shade from the intense rays of the sun. Near the back of the house there is a rotten, wobbly dock slowly rotting in the dark blue, cool water. Near that we store our old rusted canoes, to which the desperate frogs hop for shelter. When I venture out to the water I feel the thick gooey mud squish through my toes and the fish mindlessly try to escape but instead swim into my legs. On the lively river banks I see great blue herring and there attempt to catch a fish for their dinner. They gracefully fly with their beautiful wings arching in the sun to silvery points.
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
On the edge of a small wood, an ancient tree sat hunched over, the gnarled, old king of a once vast domain that had long ago been turned to pasture. The great, gray knees gripped the hard earth with a solidity of purpose that made it difficult to determine just where the tree began and the soil ended, so strong was the union of the ancient bark and grainy sustenance. Many years had those roots known—years when the dry sands had shriveled the outer branches under a parched sun, years when the waters had risen up, drowning those same sands in the tears of unceasing time.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every