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.” After one look Phil recognized the sarcasm and followed suit, “Is that all? Whoohoo, Yippee hooray. Lets jump for joy.” “Well this is one of the hardest legs of the trip you know,” I said more seriously. “The altitude change is about 3,000 ft. and it is at least 10 miles.” “I’ll just be happy when it’s over and I’m can sleep.” “Yup.” We sat there for a few more minutes then I got up and yelled for everyone to get ready to start moving again. I donned my pack and tightened the straps, and after making sure everyone else was ready, started off down the winding trail to the night’s campsite. 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. 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... ... middle of paper ... ...--which was fine since we had filters--but if we didn’t get there we would have no food and little water. I looked back and could see strain in faces, they also new, but that did not change exhaustion. Mr. Watkins was lagging behind so I slowed down a little, there was no point in getting over if we all didn’t make it. Halfway up it was beginning to look doubtful, the wind was picking up and everyone was getting out rain gear to prepare for the storm. I voiced my doubts to Phil and he said we might as well keep going until the lighting got too close. So we did. The thunder grew in volume and the echoes magnified the noise to a dull roar sometimes. Then suddenly it began to ebb. The wind died down and lightening came less frequently. I exchanged relieved looks with Phil after a bit, but kept the pace up--I didn’t want to take chances. Eventually it hit us, but by then it was nothing more then a heavy rain. We kept moving, if slower, and made it over the ridge with no other problems. That night I enjoyed the meal a little more and slept a little deeper realizing how much is important that easily goes unnoticed until something threatens to take it away.
We have had to deal with, “poor food- hard lodging- cold weather- fatigue, “(Document B). In this diary by Dr Waldo, a doctor we have at camp, he has accurately described what life is like at camp. The factors that we undergo make us sick both physically and mentally, these factors make us lose all sense of empowerment to win this war that we once felt, these factors make us want to go home more than anything just to hear our mother’s voice just once more. The absence of encouragement from other colonists and countries, and how I have to go to bed with my stomach empty every single night pushes me over the edge to give up and just
...ot always make progress everyday due to the harshness of the trip. On April sixteenth, they start to go from the Base Camp to Camp One, and this is the real beginning of their journey. Shortly after, they leave for Camp Two, and the trip is going well so far. At over 20,000 feet up, a dead body is seen. People are treated for medical conditions at the second camp, and soon need to keep moving up to the third camp. A storm hit during the journey, right before reaching the fourth camp.
“Yes” she said sarcastically. We greeted all of the other girls and started to jog around the gym to warm-up. I was in one of those moods where I didn’t want to talk because it was too early in the morning.
... to be inside this precarious place, I was careful with every movement. As we both lay in our bags, the cave's darkness soon soothed our eyes and sleep came to our tired bodies. Striking camp early in the morning we traversed over the white, moon lit landscape. We arrived at the car for a late lunch, which ended our camping trip.
It was my 2nd day as the acting crew leader of our 80-mile trek, and we were hopelessly lost somewhere in the New Mexican wilderness. I dared to glance back at the rest of my crew and was met with glares plastered on each and everyone's faces, their accusatory stairs boring into me, making me feel somehow guiltier than I already did. I thought back to the events that had occurred within the past couple of hours. The sun was at its peak, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky as we as plodded through the dry dessert heat. Grant started to angrily question
It was looking like it was going to be a miserable week in the rain. I am a member of an American Boy Scout troop in Japan and had signed up for a weeklong Summer Camp outside of Tokyo. I had planned on a relaxing week of earning merit badges, enjoying camp cooking, and letting the adult leaders take charge. Instead, I arrived to a campsite in chaos. The other campers were playing and chasing each other around the campsite, and not setting up tents or arranging gear. Worse, it was starting to rain, and forecasts predicted a wet week. I was a newly-appointed patrol leader with no experience, but I was the oldest scout present, and suddenly found myself with the task of making sure things don’t devolve into Lord of the Flies.
Each day concluded with snack time back in the basement of the mess hall as campers wait for their parents to come pick them up. During this time, I would clean up any garbage or scraps that were left over from previous activities and prepare for the next
As I stepped out of the car and onto the road I looked up to see the peak of the Pillbox Hike, also known as the Ka’iwa Ridge Trail. The sun was still hiding behind the Ko’olau Mountains, which encircled the town of Kailua and the windward side of O’ahu. Back home on the Big Island I had a lot of things on my mind such as, school, work and family problems. It was the summer before senior year and even though it wasn’t months from now I was already stressed about it; the schoolwork, socializing and senioritis. There was also the thought of having to go back to work with my unbearable manager and the piles of bills my parents were having trouble with. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to face the responsibilities, I just wanted to get away, even if it was only for a week, so I came to O’ahu. Here, I was with my older sister Jossevey. She was only 3 years older than me but more of a kid at heart. She was the reason we were about to hike this long trail, even though I’ve never really hiked before.
I had gone probably a little bit to far and should had some markings or something to back onto the trail. I had gotten lost I was in the woods for about a day with just me and my gun I didn't eat the whole rest of the day but I had a huge sack full of bision. I had been sitting there about twenty four hours and I heard pounding at the ground so I had to go look because it was my only way out or else I was stranded, it ended up it was some bision but while I was out there it looked a little familiar. It was where I had left and I ran for a total of proably three hours and finally saw the end of our wagon train and didn't loose my group, thank
With 115 miles of brilliant landscapes behind us, my father and I were halfway finished with the John Muir Trail. The day I had announced I wanted to embark on a twenty-two day trip through the Sierras; my dad laughed and dismissed what he considered a delusional episode. I made lists and itineraries, convinced that a detailed plan would ease all doubts. No amount of preparation could have prepared me for the trials of Mother Nature, though: waking up with aching muscles and then assembling a fifty pound backpack to be worn for ten more miles, fighting for breath at elevation, or existing in a state of uncertainty towards everything from the weather to whether we were even on the
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 continued down the infinitely long interstate towards our destination. Thunder clouds continued to rumble in, like an ocean tide rolling closer and closer to the beach front. Within minutes the entire landscape was calm and dark. It looked like a total eclipse of the sun, and the once ...
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.
We run into Jordan on our way to the lake and our campers start mingling. Jordan, Jessica and I start talking about the nightly bonfire and the stories were going to tell the campers tonight. Once we get to the lake, the three of us say bye to the campers and head back to the mess hall to grab a snack.
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