It was almost the end of the fourth day during my five day canoe trip at Algonquin Park. The bright yet faint sunset lightly shimmered onto the water as it began its descent into the sea. The water sparkled like the stars at night during the dead of winter. The crystal water was calm and serene, only gently lapping to the rhythm of our canoes and paddles. Conversely, the air trembled with energy-- throngs of mosquitoes fluttered around our heads. The humid air after the storm was thick and reminded me of rainy days. The backdrop comprised of contrasting gray rocks on the shoreline, sandy coasts that elicited beach memories and lush green deciduous forests that had began to change outfits into its autumn colors. The beauty backdrop reflected onto the water creating an incredible mirror-like image. I was frozen with wonder, amazement and awe. Time slowed down to a near standstill and I forgot everything - I forgot all my little troubles and I forgot all my trivial matters.
As the night approached, I began to ruminate over my current problems again. My umbrella broke and an unfortunate jagged branch from a tree had torn apart my only rain poncho. I fell into the lake twice that left me with only one set of dry clothes. It was also forecasted to rain heavily tomorrow – a seemingly condemning concurrence. I was completely defenseless against the rain – no clothes, no umbrella and no poncho. What if I got wet? The clothes on my back were the last of the dry and wearable clothing that I had and I cannot bear to sludge around with dripping wet clothing.
Even worse, I began to worry about the troubles and dilemmas that tomorrow would inevitably bring. Would tomorrow give us a usable thunder-box at our next camp ground? Would tomorrow hol...
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...iven an antithetical effect of ending off in a weary and tired condition.
After that five day canoe trip, I came to the realization that people do not enjoy life to the fullest. The inconsequential and trivial everyday matters seem to stress even the best of us. Personally, I took the small things during my trip too seriously that ultimately had an adverse effect on my enjoyment and pleasure. I was so confused on the small details that I failed to appreciate the entire picture. I was so troubled that I failed to remember why I was on the canoe trip in the first place. Sometimes, it was much easier to forget all the little troubles that life throws at us and enjoy the moment. For me, it was the moment with the panoramic view that put me at ease. Furthermore, every moment in life should be approached with awe and wonder and it is one’s job to live life to its fullest.
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
After looking into the journey and obstacles he faced to scale this dangerous and intimidating mountain, I noticed with each stop at each rest area he had learned something different about himself or established a new outlook about the journey. But it was not until they were in the final leg of the journey in which he learned his greatest lesson about himself. It was during the last leg that he realized he had spent most of the day looking at “how far he had to go,” instead of relishing in “how far he had come.” After stating he normally views things as “the glass half empty” I realized, I too, have a similar outlook on life. It was in this moment that I realized perception has a large impact on how I maneuver throughout life, bringing the popular phrase “mind over matter” to my
If we bemoan the loss of light as the day changes to night we miss the sunset. In her memoirs Refuge, Terry Tempest Williams relates the circumstances surrounding the 1982 rise in the Great Salt Lake as well as her mother’s death from cancer. Throughout the book Williams gets so caught up in preventing her mother’s death that she risks missing the sunset of her mother’s life. However the Sevier-Fremont’s adaptability to changes in nature inspires Terry Tempest Williams to re-evaluate her response to changes in her life.
The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon. (Krakauer 57)” McCandless felt the trip was necessary to fill a void in him. He became so infatuated with adventure that he encouraged others to venture out and explore the world. Unfortunately for McCandless he was very stubborn.
When the day came to leave I was woken at the crack of dawn. I was keen to get to Blackpool as swiftly as possible, not only for the football that was ahead of us but also for the famous Pleasure Beach. The coach picked us up at around 8 am and in we crammed into an already full coach. The journey down was full of laughter and friendly joking from the parents. That day, it was particularly hot and inside the coach a number of people were becoming uncomfortable. I was unaffected by the warmth inside the coach, with my earphones in I relaxed and paid more attention to the vast countryside we were passing through. The vivid scenery blew me away, with colossal hills to calm rivers that we met on the journey.
The time spent there became more about meeting family friends and going to dinners. Almost four years passed before I returned to the memory of getting lost in those woods. It was a week before the start to my junior year of high school, and I was visiting my grandparents in Virginia. One morning, after a very early breakfast and a promise to return promptly, I walked outside toward the woods. I walked aimlessly, remembering the similar trips I used to make in the forest upstate. I saw a young kid, eager to dirty his hands with exploration of the tangible world. I was older now, and my summer had been spent exploring a possible career path by interning at a financial services firm. A sudden thought crept slowly into my mind, piecing itself together before my
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
There are many things in everyday life that can be taken for granted. As a young teen just barely over the age of 13 I had yet to gain an understanding of the hard work that life is, and what it really takes to survive in this world. It wasn’t until I took a three week long Outward Bound wilderness survival course when I gained essential life skills that would help me through the challenges that life would place in front of me. This trip played a significant role during my upbringing by teaching me to take responsibility for failure, getting out of my comfort zone by working with new people on common goals, and helped me gain a deeper appreciation for my hardworking folks.
Whatever pain is displayed in the passages that follow, the authors ground their characters through this shared location, which shows in the landscape and nature’s influence that happens to be prevalent in a number of the works chosen for this anthology in particular. It is a common theme, it seems, that Newfoundland is the one solid, concrete location, while it is the humans that are flimsy with their dedications. Being an island, Newfoundland is often portrayed as a concrete entity that will never disappear except by the occasional water erosion, but instead it is always the humans that leave as is mentioned in Cedar’s Cove by John
While traveling to Wisconsin,I had chosen to write down what I might see when I got there.Writing about a place I had never seen before wasn’t hard, because all I had to do was use my imagination.I had imagined sitting in front of a breath-taking sunset.The cool air felt like cool a ocean breeze,the amazing view;had looked like a scene from a movie.Every image in my head, I wrote down hoping I would see it when we got there.
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.
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
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
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
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...