I had always felt a love for the outdoors; my parents had raised me that way. My father had been a forest guide at Mount Mitchell Park for twenty years, it’s where I grew up. I vividly recall hiking along the trail in the late summer evenings, when the sun had begun to vanish beyond the horizon, and the glittering sunlight no longer pouring through the trees, being replaced by orange ribbons streaming across the sky.
I planned to return to the place of my carefree days on the trail that I had once enjoyed so much, I set out to walk it another time. I left the following morning, just as the sun was to rise. The air was brisk and the sand crunched reassuringly beneath my feet. The only sounds to be heard were a twitter of a bird and the roar of a waterfall in the distant forest. My hike began on the trail that my father and I had walked many years ago. The day had past and I had reached the topmost point of the trail, but I was not yet ready to begin my return. Unwilling to accept the trail had come to the end, I stepped off the suspended walkway into untrodden ground and persisted to make my own path. I was uncertain of where I was going, and at the time, I didn't care. I felt free.
I continued to
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My toes tingled; the tingling intensified as the venom slowly crept up my leg. The torment had become unbearable, but I knew I had to keep moving. My breath became short and shallow as the venom pierced its way into me. I had to get back to the trail, before I could no longer move. Knowing that I was far from the trail, I moved into the fastest pace I could manage before collapsing onto the ground. I could not move my leg, it was completely numb. I pulled off my makeshift bandage, only to be greeted by a horrifyingly swollen, inflamed leg. To my terror I realized I could not stand either, I was immobile. My only hope now was that a ranger had seen me go off trail, my chances were slim but I was hopeful someone would save
Out of the 12 months of the year, students basically only have about two months to have fun and not worry about school. As a teenager, you do things without predicting the outcome. We tend to not always listen to our parents and sometimes end up in terrible situations.
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
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.
Years ago my family took a trip to Yellowstone National Park. I chose this common experience for this memory assignment. First, I made a list of all the things I remembered from my trip at Yellowstone. I remembered we traveled in our motorhome and got halfway to our destination and parked on the side of the road and slept there for the night. I remember seeing the famous geyser; Old Faithful, in addition to seeing lots of bison, and bears. I recall one night that we stayed in a campground bears were in the campground and we were being told to stay in our campers. I also remember during the trip my dad would give me all the spare change and I would collect it. I saved the change up to buy souvenirs or candy. I also remember going to a shirt
Bill Bryson the author of the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods’ constructs the story in a certain way to try to get the reader to accept his attitudes and values about how dangerous and death defying Earl V. Shaffer and other’s are in attempting to travel the trail. He uses the techniques of emotive language, unusual language and use of first hand accounts in the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods‘ . The use of descriptive and humorous language, combined with conversational text has allowed Bryson to express his feelings and opinions on his and others experiences on the Appalachian Trail to the audience.
It was simply amazing hiking out there, the mountains covered in tall trees that dug into the rocky soil, the beautiful sky, when visible. Even in the midst of strenuous exercise I still en...
...ollow. With her memory as my core to security and knowledge, I packed my campers into the canoes, and we set off, a camp song on my lips and hunger for the wilderness within my heart. Whenever challenges arose, Sara stood beside me; her rational eyes scrutinized the sky for advancing storms; her inexhaustible patience built a roaring fire out of wet wood; and her deft fingers secured fishermen's knots to hold up a tarp. Because her skills had built a firm foundation for trail life within me, my confidence now positioned the girls into lightening stances; my hilarity amused the girls as we huddled under the protective tarp; my voice sang reassuringly over the pounding of the fierce rain. At last, when a fantastic rainbow fanned the brilliant blue sky, it was the love of both of us that abounded the joy and fulfillment of leadership being passed on to a new generation.
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
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 am 36 year old George Edwin Pettit, I have 2 pit bulls, Tank and Sayge. I also have 2 adopted children, named Jesus (hey-sus) and Ana. Jesus is the oldest out of the two, he is 17 years old, and Ana is 15 years old. On my trip I also brought along my best friend, Jasper Hill. I work as a genuine fur trapper, as you should know I don’t make much money doing so. Sadly I couldn’t fit my whole family plus my best friend in my wagon, so I had to leave behind my mom and dad. Until my trip begins, we will be staying with Jasper and his family in North Tennessee.
As I began to walk this trail, I began to recollect the days of when I was a kid playing in the woods, the birds chirping and the squirrels running free. The trees interlocking each other as if I am walking through a tunnel with the smell of fresh pine and a hint of oak all around me; a hint of sunshine every now and then is gleaming down on the beat path. This path is not like your ordinary path, it has been used quite some time, as if hundreds of soldiers have marched this very path.
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.
there was no possible fishing hole in sight. All I could see was a river
One of the most enjoyable things in life are road trips, particularly to the Colorado mountains. Getting to spend time with your family and friends, while being in a beautiful place, is irreplaceable. The fifteen-hour road trip may feel never-ending, but gazing at the mountains from afar makes life’s problems seem a little smaller and causes worries to become a thing of the past. Coming in contact with nature, untouched, is a surreal experience. My family trip to the Colorado mountains last summer was inspiring.
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.