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describing a camping trip
My first camping experience essay
My first camping experience essay
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Camping near Lake Michigan is one of the best experiences in my life. The lake has sparkling blue water and gorgeous sandy beaches. Every summer I go camping with my family. The campground is right on Lake Michigan. There are bikes, kayaks, volleyball nets, and huge fire pits. There is always an adventure around the corner.
One day Lake Michigan felt decently warm. Not like the usual temperature when I can only stand to be in the water for 10 minutes, and then I start to freeze. I invited my parents to go down to the beach with me. It was a surprisingly calm day. It was not too windy, and the water was calm and flat. I thought this would be a perfect day to go kayaking for a little while. I invited my parents to join me. At first, they were reluctant to join me on my adventure, but I was finally able to change their minds. To the left of our campground it appeared as if the land was coming to a point. We agreed that it seemed like the land stopped, and that this
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Every now and then, we passed a cute dog or found some cool shells lying on the beach. Our adventure was still entertaining, and it was a gorgeous day; how could any of us not be happy. Well, my mother who had accompanied us on this voyage was not feeling the same way. She started to get very tired of walking. Every 10 minutes we had to sit, and wait for her to rest until she felt ready to continue. That time she took to rest most likely attributed to how long this whole adventure took. Finally, we got to what we thought was the end of the land. Where we thought the ground came together in a point. From a very far distance things tend to look different than they actually are. There were five houses in a straight line that lead out to the point. Near the edge of the water the sand stopped, and we could walk no further. Right along the side of the edge of the land there was a bunch of planks of wood sticking out of the water like there had been a dock there
A long time ago, before man had mastery of the elements, the world was split in three. In this world, there was the fiery continent, the bottomless ocean and the infinite sky. No life could exist on the world for the land was too hot, the ocean too fierce and the sky was but a void.
Where is the best place to camp in michigan ? Pigeon River is the best place to camp. It has many different camp sites . It has many different sceneries from thick forests to grass fields to trout streams plus ponds that range in size .
It was 12:00 at night, but I was still wide awake. I was anxious for the trip that was in store for me. The next morning I drove to the airport and took a flight to Colorado. I rented a car and drove to Red Cliffs lodge in Moab, Utah. Moab is a dry, desert town in Utah located right next to Canyonlands national park where I would spend most of my time. Right as I got out of the car I could see the beautiful canyonlands scenery. The gigantic cliffs of the island in the sky loomed over the lodge. The blue waters of the Colorado river ran behind the lodge. My room was spacious and had a great view of the cliffs. The best part of the room was the window right above my bed. That night I fell asleep gazing at a full moon and a sky full of stars.
14 year old Blake Godwin runs through the hallway of West Florida High School on a rainy Tuesday morning. When he reached the end of the hallway he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked up slowly and there it was the monster that has been terrorizing West Florida high. Blake knew he would have to act quick before this green slimy putrid monster could capture anymore students and turn him into his kind. Blake has never used his superpowers before but he knew it would all come to him when lives where on the line like today.
Bodies pass, moving in a blur of a slow fast-forward. The haze of voices echoes through the crowd, only to be split and overcome by the burdened creak of the boardwalk’s wooden planks.
Immediately, I angled my position and went for a dead sprint toward the water. I jumped off the cliff. I never felt anything like it; the trajectory had me flying through the air for longer than I expected. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through my body, bringing a new sense of life to me. The scorching heat went away as gravity pulled my body toward the water, bringing me a pleasant breeze through my fall. Then, I finally hit the water. I didn’t stick a solid landing, as I went head first into the water. I panicked and opened my eyes under the murky water, only to see nothing but dirt and sediments float around me. I kept sinking and saw a monstrous fish swim right in front of my face. At that very moment, my body went into overdrive, and I managed to project myself back up to the surface.
What is writing style? I started out thinking that writing style is a personal thing and that all writers have their own style. But, this way of thinking is really just a simple way to answer the question. After more careful thought, I realized that style is actually quite the opposite of personal and original. Style is a form of standardization. As writers, we all follow certain rules and guidelines to make our point. Style is these rules and guidelines.
The Pulitzer Prize winning writer N. Scott Momaday has become known as a very distinctive writer who depicts the stories of the Native American life in almost poetic ways. He does an excellent job of transporting the reader from the black and white pages of a book, to a world where every detail is pointed out and every emotion felt when reading one of Momaday’s books or other writings. This style of writing that Momaday uses is very evident in his work “The Way to Rainy Mountain,” and made even more apparent by reading a review of the book House Made of Dawn found on a web site run by HarperCollins Publishers.
The front door bursts open, and the young girl bounces in carrying her gym bag, still wearing her school uniform. She looks like most Catholic school girls. Wearing a plaid skirt, white shirt and navy blue knee highs. The gym bag dangles from her fingers by one strap.
Everyone stood to their feet and cheered with thrill and astonishment as the whistle blew. It was on a beautiful Sunday morning. We were on the field with the opposing team, we were playing Saginaw. We were so similar in skill, that no one had a good enough opportunity to score.
Senior year; I’m at Cesar Chavez and I have 6 months left of high school. Had my favorite outfit on, tight black jeans, tank top with a red and black stripped t-shirt like cardigan over top. I had a good paying job, my own car, honor student with straight A’s things were great. Jonstens was there during lunch to take our papers for our caps and gowns. Just turned my papers in for that and was headed to sit down with my friends, a few minutes later I head to the bathroom. Everyone knows the bathrooms by the bleachers you can get away with just about anything over there.
I was wondering, why? Why was I alive? I was the one to be alive, when so many died. Everyone, old, young, rich, poor, gentlemen and sailors. So much death makes fear and fear makes supposition.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
We came into Lituya at about eight o’clock in the evening, my son was with me. Approximately 10:15 there was a loud rumbling noise from up at the head of the bay. There was a slight pause, I thought that everything was over with, but some movement up their caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and so I looked directly up and so what I observed was like an atomic explosion. This big splash came and then this huge wave, it looked like just a big wall of water.” said from the father. “I was only eight at the time, and me being a little boy, I was half asleep. He threw me a life preserver and said son pray, you’re looking at death. That was my first thought” With the Ulrich’s preparing their boat, and pray, they waited for the wave to come. “When the wave finally hit us I did feel the boat shooting upward… skyward. I had forty fathoms of anchor chains, and it started running out, off the boat, came to the end of the forty fathoms and snapped just like a string. And then we were free just on the front of the wave. We were swept up over the land over the trees. That’s where I assumed we were going to end up.” Two other boats that had been there were not fortunate enough to survive, carried out to sea and then wrecked.
One thing that is very important in all forms of writing – not just poetry – is the description. When writing, an author should describe the setting and the characters thoroughly, in a way that resounds in the reader. All descriptions are written in hopes of putting an image into your head, and especially as sophomores, I believe that we are still learning how to write descriptions. Descriptions are not as easy as everyone thinks of them as – not a good description, anyway. I’ve read many descriptive sentences from peer grading essays and my trudge through numerous novels and short stories, and rarely do I find that descriptions really put an image into my head. Not to discourage the way teachers teach descriptive writing as I understand that if it’s difficult to so much as write a description, it should be very difficult to teach it.