Imagine traveling in an eight seater SUV with your seven member family and all that luggage for twenty-five hours to the great state of Wyoming. The joy in that vehicle was through the roof, let me tell you. Everyone was all smiles and sunshine all the time! Not. These trips are always dreaded until we arrive at our destination and then once again when we have to leave and go home. My warm, fuzzy feelings for my family were not at an all-time high. On our first day in Cody, Wyoming, my parents decided to raise everyone’s morale with a seemly white water rafting trip. Let’s just say that trip did not have the intended outcome. We arrived at Wyoming River Trips early on a brisk morning to get geared up and briefed on some information we needed to know. The only other people on our full raft were an older father and son duo. Starting us off, our easy-going, college-aged, brown haired guide with a crooked smile told us that only three rafts had ever flipped in the forty years the rafting company had been open. This obviously eased everyone's worries as we all relaxed our stiff-backed postures by a smidgen. Off we go, with the older man on the raft telling jokes to my two younger sisters Rhylanne, age nine, and Elliana, age seven. The guide would spout off facts, as all guides do, to keep the trip …show more content…
They can come in moments of extreme duress or in an ordinary run-of-the-mill day. No matter when inspirations come to us, it is something that will remain with us long after they strike for sure. There could have been no better outcome for the situation my family was put in, besides maybe not being terrified of large bodies of water now. All jokes aside, I never really thought of how important any one individual is to my entire family’s dynamic and almost losing them put that into perspective in a horrifyingly real way. As Michael J. Fox said, “Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” and I could not agree
In this story, Will remembers that his mother chose to rent a row-boat instead of a canoe because “a row-boat was safer” (233). The irony strikes the reader when their row-boat collides with a rock and springs a leak, causing the children to fear for their lives. In the more current story, Harlen and Luise convince Will to purchase a canoe so that they can all go boating together. In the inaugural trip, though, the canoe began to take on water. After Harlen urges him to start bailing water, Will realizes that “[they] didn’t have anything to bail with” (235), and soon, the canoe flips, sending Harlen and Will into a stream of rapids....
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
Have you ever looked off a gigantic cliff? Now imagine traveling 30 miles per hour on a bike with curvy roads with enormous cliffs on your side with no rails. This is exactly what I did with my family when we went to Colorado. From the hotel we drove to a bike tour place to take us to the summit of Pikes Peak. After we arrived at the building we saw pictures of how massive the cliffs were, but what terrified me was the fact they had no side rails. This observation was thrilling as well as terrifying. It was an odd mix of emotions, but I loved the adrenaline rush it gave me. My dad whispered to me, “ This will be absolutely horrifying”.
I'm Jeffery the oxe and I recently completed the Oregon trail. In the beginning we started in Saint Louis, Missouri. We were waiting on the field for my food to grow, then I would be free fed.
Ever since he was a little kid, Rex Scruggs has had only one ambition. Win the respect and approval and, heck, maybe even the love, of his difficult grandfather. It isn’t easy to be the grandson of Malcolm Scruggs whose house is filled with trophies and medals from his years as an international-level kayaker, and whose kayaking exploits on the rivers of the Columbian Andes decades earlier earned him a write-up in National Geographic magazine. Now seventeen, Rex, who has inherited from Gramps his fiercely competitive nature, is determined to travel to Columbia and kayak The Furiosos, the river that his grandfather never finished. He is determined to be the first to kayak it from top to bottom, and claim its first descent.
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
Surprisingly, our parents had beaten us to the top and we all stopped in awe, mesmerized by the great waterfall in front of us. My mouth felt like the Sahara desert. I vividly remember reaching for the chilling water bottle that hid underneath the tons of clothes stuffed in my father’s black backpack to quench my thirst. I took off my beaten down shoes and stinky socks covered in dirt from the trail and blood from the blisters on my feet and dove into the refreshing lake. After swimming through the lake for a few seconds, I abruptly jumped out of the freezing water. My toes turned into a blue that reminded me of the blueberry muffins from breakfast that morning. My body shivered as I exited the lake and threw on a warm towel over my shoulders. Gradually my body heat increased, escaping the risk of hypothermia. At that point, I just wanted to go home. My family and I gathered all our belongings and I dragged my energyless body into the large, gray shuttle. The shuttle smelled of sweat from previous passengers. It drove us down a rough, bumpy trail, causing my tall father to constantly slam his head on the roof of the car. After we finally got back to our hotel, we all let off a sigh of
It had been a decade since I camped last, and I recalled it being a jam packed, smokey, noisy family campground. I had only been camping in the “real woods” once, and that was literally decades ago - four of them. And now, Wendy, who is a self-proclaimed Queen-of-the-wilderness, introduced a weekend in the interior of Algonquin Park as one of our - Canadian Destinations.
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.
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.
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.
An observer looking in at my life would say I have an extreme case of FOMO, the fear of missing out. Reflecting upon this summer when I went to the boundary waters, a canoe spot in the wilderness, I would not slow down for anything. I stole every memory I could during this time, taking in every sight and sound. My friends, also there with me, wanted to take it slow and sit in camp for a day. I told them “everybody dies, but not everybody lives”(Alan Sachs) then continued to cruise around the bend, eager for what experience the lake had to offer. I simply wanted to make the most out of the time we had in the wilderness. I did not see the point in being there if we were not going to take advantage of it, so this pushed me to go further. I do not wish we rested and am glad I saw so much there. This instance is one of many types in my life where I am afraid of what I could miss.
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.
It all started when my father came home from work. He threw the door open letting it slam exclaiming “Guys, tomorrow we are going on the adventure of a lifetime!” Now, my brother and I aren't new to the whole adventure scene. As far back as I can remember, we were always on adventures. Whether in the dark New York woods, North Carolina's stinking swamps, or mountains towering in Arizona, we've been there. Only this time it was going to be different. My father's friend Jim, invited us to join his expedition through Sedona AZ on four wheelers. That night we packed up all of our equipment, 4 gallons of water, and 20 gallons of gas.
The worst day of my life began innocently enough with my small group of friends preparing to explore a cave. Each month the four of us, I, Jill, John, and Ted, would choose two or three caves and spend our weekends engrossed in exploring them. Today’s cave was a special one; it afforded just a small window of opportunity for exploration because it flooded completely with each high tide. As we checked our packs and made sure all our spelunking and survival gear was in order, a rather jovial, but sizable, fellow by the name of Scott Porker happened by and asked if he could join our group. We agreed, as we were always happy to be in the company of a kindred spirit, and since the tide had just gone out we began our descent into the cave.