The trip began when I took a small green pencil and signed by name on the release forms needed to hike in Yosemite National Park. I and nine of my friends left the ranger station that night with a neatly folded map and a felling of excitement to what lay ahead. The long drive to the park left us tired and in need of a good night’s sleep. We decided to stay in tent city like most hikers do before they set out for their trek. Tent city was a large subdivision of tents that resembled a community of houses. Each tent was perfectly uniformed in its appearance and made up a total of fifty tents. Before we went to bead, we studied our maps and made an itinerary to the amount of hiking we would do.
The next day began with an alarm clock echoing in my ears at 6 a.m. Our first days hike started early and began with one of the most impressive features of the park. El Capitan is a giant slab of granite rock that towers thousands of feet above the valley floor. Like a skyscraper, the rock has a presence of amazement surrounding its every crevice and crack. After a few minutes of starring at the rock had passed, Eric the leader for that days hike shouted that it was time to go. Because the leader was in charge of the navigation and speed we traveled, he knew that we would not make our campsite if we did not continue.
Time drugged along as the weight of a forty-pound pack full of food and water dug into to my bony shoulders. My pack seemed to be getting heaver as the day went on. My shoulders pulsed with pain from the thinly padded straps that connected to my pack. Four hours of this pain was all I could handle. I decided that this was enough I needed to stop. I shouted to Eric that I needed to take a break. He quickly turned around and said it was okay if we stopped. Because it was close to lunch everyone agreed and we all set down to eat lunch. Each one of us was caring five days worth of food for our trek. Every meal was neatly packed in a clear plastic bag and labeled for when it should be eaten. I opened up a package of peanut butter crackers from my lunch package and stared into the open field we had stopped in.
In article “Camping for their lives,” author Scott Bransford gives commendable information about the tent cities and causes of them. He gave a good start to article by mentioning experience of Marie and Francisco Caro. The article starts with Marie and Francisco Caro building their tent alongside the Union Pacific Railroad tracks in downtown Fresno (p. 1). He also mentioned that how harsh the conditions were when they started building their tent by mentioning that even a strong person could wither in a place like that. As the choice of name of the topic is sensible and evocative, it helps him to get more attention towards the article. He uses expert opinions describing about the tent cities and causes. As mentioned in the text, Rahul Mehrotra
In the 1800’s into the early 1900’s a man named John Muir began to explore the western American lands. He traveled down South and up North. But, when he reached Yosemite Valley, his life changed. As said in John Muir’s Wild America, written by Tom Melham, “Following the forest-lined mountain trails, Muir climbed higher into the Sierra Nevada: suddenly, a deep valley enclosed by colossal steeps and mighty water falls yawned before him. Spell bound, he entered Yosemite Valley” (79). Muir’s travels and adventures, highlighted in Melham’s book, explain this man’s love of the wilderness. Yosemite Valley was like a wide, open home to Muir, who, lived alone and discovered new landings and important later landmarks that create the aura of Yosemite National Park. Yosemite Valley was given to the state of California in 1864, part of the continuous idea of Manifest Destiny, later, in 1890; Yosemite became one of the first National Parks (“World Book”). Uniquely, the longer Muir stayed the more that he...
Bill Bryson uses his experience on the Appalachian Trail to show how different your expectations can be compared to the reality of the situation. Bryson believed that he was fully prepared for the hike and that it would be exciting but, in all actuality it was very difficult. He also believed that the hike would be stimulating for the mind but, at times it didn’t require a lot of thinking or attention. His experience and the background research he provided created an image for his audience so they could understand the point he was trying to make. These elements served as evidence in the book and was very effective because it was abundant and meaningful.
Zig-zag, back and forth, down, down, down, Jonathon, Dad, and I went into a mysterious new world. Now that I have gone into this hot, dry canyon surrounded by monstrous hoodoos, I have seen what it is really like to leave the small town of Seymour, and emerge into the greatness of this world. I have now seen several other National Parks on one of the most renowned places on earth for mysterious creations, the Colorado Plateau. Of all the beautiful places on it, even the Grand Canyon, I have found my favorite one. Bryce Canyon National Park. I thought it was amazing, because it was the most diverse to anything I have ever seen before. We hiked down into it and I felt like I was surrounded by skyscrapers. We trekked around a little, but we didn’t
Strayed uses a unique writing style and figurative language in Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail to give a picture of how one can use the past to create a healthy and bright present. Throughout the entire memoir, Strayed uses flashbacks and flash-forwards during her hike. Strayed starts off with her hike when she says, “My solo three-month hike on the Pacific Crest Trail had many beginnings” (1), and then she switches to “I accompanied my mother and stepfather, Eddie, from floor to floor of the Mayo Clinic” (10). With the constant back and forth where chronological time has no place, Strayed uses this repeatedly to clearly show her improvement by using the past as lessons to learn from. Strayed relies on her rare style to show that the past does help forge a better present. Likewise, the tone of the beginning and the end begin to shift. At the beginning, Strayed says that “I’ve never gone backpacking” (32), but at the end, she says, “Thank you. Not just for the long walk, but for everything I could feel finally gathered up inside
Between 1840 and 1950, over fifty-three thousand people travelled the Oregon Trail. Native American exposure to diseases such as smallpox and diphtheria decimated the tribes, and that along with the encroachment of settlers on tribal lands, was the cause of much strife between Native Americans and the incoming Europeans. The Land Donation Law, a government land giveaway allotting three-hindred twenty acres to white males and six-hundred forty to married white couples, gave impetus to the western expansion and the American idea of "Manifest destiny." This promotion of migration and families also allowed America to strentghen its hold on Oregon, in the interests of displacing British claims.
Hiking is something that many people do as a leisure activity, but some do it for the challenge. The latter is what author Cheryl Strayed describes in her novel Wild. The Pacific Crest Trail is a mountainous path that travels over many different mountain ranges and goes from Mexico to Canada, but Strayed only followed it from the Mojave Desert in California to the Bridge of Gods in Oregon. Her book was written to illustrate this trying time of her life, and to show how her hike helped her to move past the problems of her past.
The Oregon Trail was a very important aspect in the history of our country’s development. When Marcus and Narcissa Whitman made the first trip along the Oregon Trail, many Americans saw a window of opportunity. The Oregon Trail was the only practical way to pass through the Rockies. Pioneers crammed themselves into small wagons to try to make it to the unsettled land; however, 10% of these pioneers died on the way due to disease and accidents.
I knew it was coming. A couple weeks before, I received an introductory email from my instructor explaining the textbook we needed and providing a link to the class website. I selected the link and navigated curiously around the site, arriving at last at the class itinerary. To my horror, I saw planned on the third class day a “moderately strenuous hike over steep, rough ground.” Subsequent readings of this statement produced the same result, and so I resigned myself to impending doom.
One wonderful ability that people have always been able to do is walk thousands of miles through tough terrain to get where they want/need to go. The exercise known as hiking was practiced all over the world, including the famous Appalachian Trail, approximately 2,184 miles long. The A.T. was “Conceived in 1921, built by private citizens, and completed in 1937, today the trail is managed by the National Park Service, U.S. Forest Service, Appalachian Trail Conservancy, numerous state agencies and thousands of volunteers”, as stated on the National Park Services website. The trails path runs along the Appalachian Mountains and through 14 different states stretching from Maine to Georgia. The formation of the trail went through several stages beginning with Benton MacKaye’s idea and planning of a super trail in late 1921. A committee was formed, followed by a conference which years later became the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. The A.T. is a great trail to hike for the courageous individuals that are looking for a great time and adventure.
It’s 5:00 am in morning, March 5th, today is not going to be a normal day. Today is the day where we leave to go on the Oregon Trail. I got dressed quietly, I didn’t want to wake up my brother. I checked the supplies and I read the pamphlet that I got at the local town center. Talking to myself, I said, “flour, yes, bacon, yes, sugar, yes, coffee, yes, lard, yes; I’m pretty sure we have everything in the supplies list in the pamphlet.”
Despite my negative thoughts, I force myself to focus on the hike. Birds soar through the crisp air, singing their morning melodies and landing on trees and telephone wires. I hear cows in the pasture and feel nice, cool breezes. The road curves, and the hilly scenery suddenly appears more beautiful as we walk through the quarry. The fresh scent of a group of eucalyptus trees overwhelms me and brings back memories of the several times I have enjoyed Catalina Island. As I exhale, fond childhood memories make me increasingly excited about my journey, and I envision climbing a large live oak tree nearby. A small white butterfly flutters by me and a group of well-camouflaged deer...
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
It was much steeper than the path before. My legs felt like it would come off. But we could hear people cheering from above. That means the campsite is close! Me and Tharriel started to regain our spirit and we gained our pace. In just around 30 minutes, we finally reached the campsite. Gosh! It was very relieving and the view from the campsite was entertaining. We were literally camping above the clouds now. Some of the locals even sold beer there. Many foreigners also celebrate their arrival. Me and Tharriel took some photos, and continued to our tent. Finally, in the tent we can rest our feet. Poor feet forced to hike for approximately 12 hours, you deserve rest now. After awhile, we enjoyed our view around the campsite. The view is just getting more beautiful. Thick clouds were bellow touching some part of the mountain. The sun is starting to fade away, and the wind is very cold. Just reaching the campsite is eyes spoiling
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