My destination is only six miles to the top. I can do this. My hands begin to shake from the nerves. Our trail guide takes the first steps onto the trailhead, other footsteps begin following close behind. I feel excitement for the challenge I am about to take on. It starts out easy. A few beads of sweat drip on my forehead from the hot beaming sun. I feel the wind breeze on my cheek and I breathe in the smell of fresh mountain air. I hear birds chirping and feet stomping on the rocks. Almost two hours in, I hear a rush of water not too far away. We stop at a beautiful waterfall, the water gliding down the dark rocks and plunging into a pool below. Satisfaction is what I began to feel when I take a moment to rest and enjoy the view of Rainbow …show more content…
Leconte. As I walk, I allow myself to appreciate the scenery. I notice bright pink and white flowers blooming all along the trail. I am completely surrounded by gray rock, which makes the bright blue sky and green trees stand out even more. The trail is starting to become steeper and narrower. I tell myself to stay focused when doubt begins to enter my thoughts that I won’t make it to the top. My legs start shaking and my palms begin to sweat. My heart starts pounding and my head feels dizzy. I try to think of anything to keep my mind away from any negative thoughts. I start to picture the scene from the movie The Lord of the Rings when the two hobbits, Frodo and Sam, are left alone, struggling to climb to the top of Mount Doom. Right when I feel like I’m about to quit, our trail guide turns to us to let us know that the worst is …show more content…
I realize my stomach is rumbling so I grab the sandwich I packed this morning, only hours earlier and take a seat on a large rock. I notice my dirty shoes. I notice how sore my body is and how uncomfortable my feet feel. Over four hours of hiking and I feel exhausted. The trail guide stands up from where he was perched on a rock. I start to dread having to get up from rest, but then he says he would like to tell us all a story. I breathe a sigh of relief to have a few more minutes of rest. Our guide begins the story with asking everyone to raise their hand if they thought of giving up on our trail journey. More than half of our group including me raises their hand. He continues by asking us if we have heard of Gracie’s Pulpit. Some raise their hands but most haven’t heard of it. He smiles and says that it is one of many destinations throughout the trails leading toward Mt. Leconte that you can visit. Gracie’s pulpit is named after a woman by the name of Gracie McNichol who has hiked this trail and many others two hundred and forty-four times to Mt. Leconte. The last time that she hiked it was on her ninety-second birthday. Our tour guide laughs at everyone’s reaction and ends the story by saying that he’s sure even Gracie McNichol doubted herself too, but she never gave up. After listening to the story, I feel an overwhelming determination to finish
"Wake up, drink coffee, eat oatmeal, break camp. Walk, walk, climb, walk, walk, descend, walk, climb." -- Karen Berger, Hiking the Triple Crown.
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.
At last the top of the hill was nearing, in his vision. A few steps more and he would be over it. His calf muscles had started cramping, but ignoring the pain, he reconditioned his mind, to only concentrate on the hill top and willed himself to make an extra effort to go over it.
Biking from Franklin on the Allegheny Valley Trail, average travelers would assume that the path on which they were riding was nothing more than an ordinary trail in an ordinary town. Then around the five mile marker they would see the massive Belmar Bridge rising in the distance. Today the bridge serves as a reminder of our region’s rich history, harkening back to the days when oil wells dotted the landscape and railroads crisscrossed the countryside. At about the eight mile marker, a large rock covered in intricate symbols and markings juts out of the river. Centuries ago, Indian God Rock served as a waypoint for the Native Americans who created the paths on which the railroads were built. The Allegheny Valley, Samuel Justus, and Sandycreek Trails built by the Allegheny Valley Trails connect all eras of our region’s history, from the Native American period to the glory days of the oil industry, the years of economic decline, and the our recent resurgence as a center of tourism and recreation.
One should be able to know when a specific trail or section is closed due to alerts in effect (“Safety”). Also, accidents can be reported on the trail (Appalachian). Although it is important to know how to stay safe and help someone on the trail there are some things on the trail than can help keep one safe. The main trail markings include paint blazers, double blazes, and metal markers (Birchard 145-150). Leave no trace signs are located through the trail (Birchard 156). A hiker should respect wild animals and plants from a safe distance (Appalachian). It is very important that one knows how to stay safe on the trail to be able to have a successful
Wiping the sweat from my brow I called a halt to the crew. Phil and I dumped our packs and found a comfy boulder to rest on. I looked back to where the last guys were coming from back down the trail. They had stopped talking a while back and marched slowly along the dirt trail. Phil produced an energy-bar he’d saved from breakfast and began to munch on it as I drained another water bottle. After the refreshing drink I laid back against the rock and stared up at the pine trees. But a moment later, hearing grumble about sore legs, I sat up, grinning, “By the map we only have another couple hours.”
“The lake or the cliffs?” I asked, gesturing to the singing frogs behind me and the rocky face that we had nestled our tent under the previous night. We had been hiking a long time the night before, at least twelve miles. We still had a long way to go too. The stretch that we were completing started just at the Connecticut border and wound its way down through the mountains of New York and into New Jersey before finally ending at the border in Pennsylvania, the most famous of East Coast trails.
Boom. Breath. Boom. Breath. Each step sounded like a war drum banging in my ears. The harmonious rhythm of my steps consistent with my breath continued on and on as I made my way up the side of the cliff in the middle of these Colorado woods. The sweltering heat was hindering my vision, and I began to feel dizzy. The worst part is, I am all alone.
The visual surrounding the lake was perceived before the mountains was beautiful and serene. The lavender flowers near the water mirroring the colossal mountains smelled of spring. The sunset illuminated the sky making it purple and orange. The huge rocks were faultless and could be used for sitting and thinking. The warm breeze reassured that springtime was near. The lake was ideal for swimming, it was so clear. The cabins around the lake were perfect for summertime with family and friends. The clouds looked impeccable as they were angled over the mountains, their rectangular shapes resembled fluffy pillows. The snow had almost completely melted off the mountain in the distance. The environment was well needed for break within a busy life.
Following the trail, we lost sight of the waterfall for most of the time it took to climb down. As we neared the bottom, huge rocks at the edge of the waterfall blocked all view of it. Once the waterfall became visible, it was more beautiful that ever. From the bottom, we could see the vapors rising from where the falls bubbled into the pool. We could see the rainbow that was made from the sunlight shining through the mist. Since it was such a nice day, we decided to go for a swim.
up a rocky path. Immediately I feel like I am in nature. I am reminded of all
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
It’s a beautiful morning, as my group of friends and I wake up, we hear the pounding and the thrashing of the water slamming on the moss covered granite rock, I go down the eroded leaf covered pathway to fetch water just like I would do every morning, the sun had just begun to rise, the mixture of scarlet red, orange, and a bleach-like yellow beaming against the hurried water of the river that led into the waterfall shone like flakes of gold floating on top of the whitening water. The serene environment of the surrounding rocks overlooking the waterfall, the ambience of water clashing against the granite, and the aroma of the white pine filling the forest is an awe inspiring experience to all who dare make their way down the narrow and lengthy
It was a warm sunny day in Tucson, Arizona, day three of our summer vacation. Me, my dad, my step-mom, and my sister had planned a hiking trip to Sabino Canyon. My dad and step-mom loved the outdoors and were very experienced with hiking, but however, my step-mom has horrendous Rheumatoid arthritis. Unlike me, my sister kept to herself and is not very fond of hikes nor is she big into nature. Once we got there, I unloaded my backpack out of the car and the rest of my family did the same. Our planned destination were the Seven Falls which was originally planned to only be about a four mile hike all around trip. However, we shorty figured out it was eight miles in total, but we were up for the challenge.
Driving was the hardest part, anticipation and undisguised excitement pressed hard against the edges of the car door. The sight of the river was embarrassed with welcome ecstasy. Sighting the pristine waters offered no challenge or apprehension of the event that were to come. Stepping out of the car was slightly overwhelming at first but soon the pine and algae became a sweet aroma. Within five minutes we were by the shore the older two were splashing around in the water like silly otter people. Soon they began to wade deeper and deeper into the water. I wasn't a strong swimmer, instead entertained myself by hopping from stone to stone. My goal was a large boulder on the other side of the river, I reached it within minutes. Gently I lowered my legs into the crisp water, dangling them until my sun-kissed skin began to cool.