My summer camping trip at Sidney Spit was a peaceful retreat from a busy city routine. Only a twenty-minute boat ride away from Vancouver Island, it makes for a quick escape from my weekly obligations. As soon as I stepped foot on the old wooden dock, creaking under each step, the sounds of buzzing street lights and blaring sirens of city I left behind grow more distant. As I feel the heat of the sun beating down on my neck, I scan the shoreline for the trail to the campsite. I am relieved to step into the cool shaded forest after crossing the hazardous shell ridden beach. As I approach the field something darts across my path into the long golden grass, expecting a filthy city rat, I’m relieved to see the dark tail of a snake disappear into the brush. I realize I’m no longer held by the constraints of my daily expectations.
As I wandered down the soft sandy beach, the soothing rhythm of the waves gently washing against the island banks. The salt in the air stung my nose as I ventured further. Cracked and worn bricks covered in barnacles littered the beach, they’re different from the pristine
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As darkness grew the swift pattering wings of bats could be heard as they picked off mosquitos drawn to the bright lamp on the picnic table. The lamp provided a bright protective barrier from the pitch-black darkness surrounding me. I felt something brush against my foot, I searched the moist night grass with a florescent flashlight, and spotted a mouse silently nibbling on forgotten left-overs at a safe distance. The night is cold and silent, deer trotting off deep in the woods can be heard from far away. The crackling of a falling tree, makes a thunderous crash and echoed for what felt like hours. Ready for bed, I turned off the lamp and was plunged into the darkness of the night. I bundled up in my cold sleeping bag and fell asleep in the silent
The whole island is in the shape of a giant square with white sandy beaches full of people sunbathing, swimming and fishing right on the shoreline. From the end of the hot pavement parking lot to shore of the beach is an ocean of soft white sand. The pearlescent white sand seems to know how to invade every nook and cranny almost as if it enjoys it. Walking around the beach on the fluffy whiteness surrounding the parking lot, the seagulls are fighting over scraps of food on the ground. “Sandy beach ecosystems provide invaluable services to humankind. Their functions have been exploited through history, with significant anthropogenic effects (Lucrezi, 2015)”. This white sandy beach is a beautiful refuge from the mundane grind of everyday life. The smell of the misty ocean air mixed with the sound of seagulls hovering above and kids playing is a tonic for the mind. The feel of the sand between their toes and the waves crashing over them as people swim in the water, or the jerk of a fishing pole when someone is catching a fish makes Fred Howard Park one of the best places to relax. Standing on the beach looking out on the water, people are kayaking and windsurfing. The lifeguards watching vigilantly in their bright red shirt and shorts, blowing their whistles when they see someone being unsafe. After a long day of swimming and laying around visitors head back over the soft white sand to the showers, in order to rinse off the menacing sand that clings to everything like a bad habit. Everyone rushes over the hot pavement burning their feet to reach their cars so they can put away their beach paraphernalia which is still covered in the white sand, nearly impossible to completely leave behind, so when they get home it serves as a reminder of where they were that
It was a very quiet morning and everything was very settled on May 5th, 1864 in the state Virginia, until a high powered Battle broke loose on a very open and vulnerable terrain that stretched 70 miles wide and 30 miles long. The battle ended just 2 days later on May 7th. By the end, over 3,700 soldiers lost their lives, of what was left over 4,000 were missing or captured. The 162,000 involved lives were changed for a battle that was found inclusive. What was this pointless battle called? Its known as “The Battle of the Wilderness”. This battle was between the Potomac, IX corps (Yankees) and the Army of Northern Virginia (confederates) .The Yankees were lead by Ulysses S.Grant and George G. Meade and the confederates were controlled by Robert E. Lee.
When I was a Camp counselor at Camp Mendocino, the most important part of my job was to make sure my campers were safe, comfortable, and were enjoying their camp experience. My responsibilities were facilitating and helping organize activities for the campers. I also gained valuable experience with conflict mediation, and problem solving. I was trained to know what to do in emergency situations, and social situations such as bullying. One of the most important lessons I learned from the experience is when to be a friend, and when to be professional. I believe this experience relates to the resident assistant role because it does consist of similar responsibilities. Both jobs require the individual to provide comfort and supervision. Not only do the two resemble similar rules, that one must enforce and abide by, to be an RA or camp counselor you must be able to put yourself in your supervisees’ shoes. As a second year student I definitely have had my fair share of stress and hard times from the transition from high school to independence. Just like a camp counselor I would be able to give comfort to homesick students and tell them things do get easier. I also have experience with running events and activities that are both safe and fun, and I can stay calm and act fast in an urgent situation.
There was a light through the upstairs’ window of the house. I could see a mother sitting with her baby son. Although all I could hear were the many crickets singing softly in the night, I knew that the loving mother was telling a bedtime story to her sweet and sleepy child.
No electricity, water, sewer, permanent address and certainty. These are what the people in tent cities live through every day. In the article “Camping for Their Lives”, author Scott Bransford chronicled the stories of people who reside in tent cities, a makeshift housing for informal settlers. He also documented their struggles, the different circumstances of the informal settlers and the origins of tent cities. The author was effective in raising awareness on the issues surrounding tent cities were growth rate seems to be proportionate on the amount of indigent residents. He was able to communicate the story without prejudice by citing stories of residents from Taco Flat, and adding excerpts from interviews with experts on the matter.
Imagine the biggest deer of our life walking in front of us. The thing is so big that at first glance you didn’t even think it was a deer. That is what the Zellmer deer camp is all about. The deer camp was started seven and a half decades ago by my grandfather’s grandfather.
When thought of camping is referenced the idea of families going hiking through the woods having a blast telling stories by the fire comes to mind. Camping is viewed to the public as recreational event families and friends take part in to get away from society for a short period of time. Scott Bransford author of “Camping for Their Lives” sees camping in a completely different manner. Homeless are colonizing in areas around or outside cities; the government refers to these areas as “tent cities” rather than the slums, in which they resemble. Scott Bransford stresses the addictions, living situations, job market, and the role government assist has little to no help towards rehabilitating and getting the homeless off the streets. His article
As the sun rose in a pool of crimson gold, light spilled across the sprawling rainforest, heralding in the start of a new day. Thousands of feet below under the thick canopy of trees, I was abruptly woken by the raucous cry of a large bird. Sluggishly sitting up on my thick taffeta sleeping mat, I turned to see my equipment shambolically scattered from last night’s blind rummage for a torch. My body ached from last night's trek. Struggling to crawl out, I was struck by a burst of crisp, cool and calming gush of wind.
There were many things I learned about myself while walking the Appalachian Trail. In addition, there were many things I learned about my team as well. My role in my trail group, the Porcupines, was captain. As a captain we are responsible for our group and making big decisions while on the trail. At first I didn't think I was the right person to do this job, but my field commander Mr.Duffy told me that I wouldn't be captain if I wasn't qualified for the job. From there on I knew what my job was and that was to get my team to the Delaware Water Gap and have fun.
Camping is a fun activity for friends and family, that’s the time where they share their memories, and also make new ones. On the other hand, camping is when people are trying to stay off the rain, and wild animals form attacking them. That’s when camping is a time their lives depends on it. The article “Camping for their lives” by Scott Bransford talk about small and big cities that is over populated with homeless citizens. The article talks about what is happening in the scene, and what they have to face each and everyday order to survive.
"Hey, be careful and don't do anything stupid," my dad said to me right before I hopped into Chase Miller's dark blue Chevy S-10 with a camper shell on the back. I looked at Chase and Tyler Becker and said, "Let's go camping." As Chase pushed down the gas pedal, a big cloud of black smoke shot out of the back of the truck and the smell of burning motor oil filled the cab.
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
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.
We all grabbed our lawn chairs and cozied up next to the roaring red fire. I always sat a little too close, enough to where the fire burnt a hole straight through my favorite pair of flip-flops, assuring me to never make that mistake again. S’mores was all of our favorite bed time snack time and a perfect way to end the night. Every time I would roast my marshmallow until it became slightly brown, mushy, and not too hot in the center; then I 'd put it between two graham crackers and extra pieces of chocolate. One too many s’mores and a belly like later I laid back in my chair and listened as Nancy told us stories. Before going to bed Nancy told us about her favorite past times here as a child and how just like the little girl we saw fishing, she was also afraid of fishing. She told us stories about how much the campground has evolved since she was a child and how every year she promises to take us here and to keep it a tradition. At bedtime Alicia and I crawl into our tents and snuggle up in our warm sleeping bags. We talked to each other about how sad we felt that it was almost the end of summer, and how nervous we felt to start our freshman year of high school. However, our conversations ended when Nancy yelled at as from the other tent to keep quiet and go to bed. I’d fallen asleep that night to the sound of the fire crackling out and the crickets chirping
I was so ecstatic to go on this field trip and so was everyone else. Of course I knew why, everyone loves field trips. Everyone that had seen the one man show reported that it was impeccable performance. Furthermore, I was adrenalized because I didn’t have to do any work. Before the show, all I thought was that it would be a normal bus ride. One that would be loud, but everyone minded their own business.