My dad removed a Swiss Army knife from his belt and poised the miniature scissors at the nape of my neck. The snip-snip reverberated sharply against my numb ears. I knelt down at the banks of Evolution Lake and surveyed my reflection on the water: my face was toughened and my appearance starkly different.
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
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I became resentful at myself, my dad, and the all-too-innocent trail for challenging me, as though backpacking was supposed to be a walk in the park. I allowed myself to be a martyr of my own design, absorbing distress with seemingly no control. I was oblivious to the progress I had made and the privilege I was afforded to truly experience nature. I mistook lousy weather and a slowed pace for failure.
And so, naturally, I partook in the ceremony of all misguided girls and let my dad chop off my hair with a multi-tool. Perhaps the thin air or the name Evolution Lake was clouding my judgement, but I felt as though I was evolving, too.
I tossed a lock of hair into the water. I watched the blonde remains drift north feeling comfort that it would eventually float down a stream my boots had already crossed and sail by campsites we had already disassembled. That blonde hair would travel past all the steps I had taken, but was too disillusioned to
It was Saturday morning at Alexan’s vacation home in Tehachapi, CA. We ate our breakfast, and decided to go for a hike in the dangerous mountains of Tehachapi. It was approximately fifty degrees Fahrenheit and the clouds had covered the mountains, causing the area to be very foggy and difficult to see. Knowing that it was not a good idea, Alexan still managed to convince me to go hiking, and he said to me, “Don’t worry it will be fine”. This reminded me of Oliveira saying to Ronald, “I think you feel very sure of yourself, firmly planted in yourself and in your surroundings” (Oliveira 161).
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.
Youth 30) and took great pleasure in the outdoors. In 1849, Muir and his family
Surprisingly, our parents had beaten us to the top and we all stopped in awe, mesmerized by the great waterfall in front of us. My mouth felt like the Sahara desert. I vividly remember reaching for the chilling water bottle that hid underneath the tons of clothes stuffed in my father’s black backpack to quench my thirst. I took off my beaten down shoes and stinky socks covered in dirt from the trail and blood from the blisters on my feet and dove into the refreshing lake. After swimming through the lake for a few seconds, I abruptly jumped out of the freezing water. My toes turned into a blue that reminded me of the blueberry muffins from breakfast that morning. My body shivered as I exited the lake and threw on a warm towel over my shoulders. Gradually my body heat increased, escaping the risk of hypothermia. At that point, I just wanted to go home. My family and I gathered all our belongings and I dragged my energyless body into the large, gray shuttle. The shuttle smelled of sweat from previous passengers. It drove us down a rough, bumpy trail, causing my tall father to constantly slam his head on the roof of the car. After we finally got back to our hotel, we all let off a sigh of
Do people look back at the past to hurt themselves or to become a better person? With my very first relationship, we both had a rocky start and bad things happened that we both regret. As time passed by, my significant other chose to learn from the past and wanted to have a better relationship, but I sometimes faltered and looked back at the past that had us going in reverse rather than forward in the relationship. As I learned to accept the past and learn from it, I eventually used the past as a lesson, and I chose to have a stronger and better relationship that is still going on. My story is parallel to that of Cheryl Strayed as she constantly looked back at the past while on her hike on the Pacific Crest Trail that led down a destructive
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.
Cheryl took the risk to hike the Pacific Coast Trail alone, despite men offering to assist her and doubting her abilities, she wanted to do this to challenge and find herself. She knew she was taking a risk being inexperienced and hiking alone, but she needed to do this by herself as best she could. When offered to push on with a pair of hikers, she responds “ “Thank you,” I said “I’m touched you’d offer, but I can’t.” “Why can’t you?” Doug asked. “Because the point of my trip I’m out here to do it alone””(Strayed, 122). The author pushed herself to value
Wilderness therapy is a form of therapy that combines the therapeutic benefits of adventure experiences and activities with traditional models of therapy (Foundations of Adventure Therapy, 2007). Wilderness therapy has a background in experiential education and is conducted in natural settings that “kinesthetically engage clients on cognitive, affective, and behavioral levels” (Norton et al., 2014). In wilderness therapy, clients are given the opportunity to rely upon each other all while using wilderness skills such as “pack building, shelter construction, fire making, and meal preparation” (Bettmann, Russell, & Parry 2013). There are two primary settings that wilderness therapy occurs in: a base camp where individuals remain in the same place for most of the program, and an expedition where individuals travel for most the duration of the program (Rutko & Gillespie, 2013). During their wilderness experience clients focus on treatment, daily life, and the present moment (Bettmann et al., 2013). The activities and challenges encountered ...
Being in the wild is a great experience, it opens doors and bridges inside one’s mind. It allows people to be inspired, to find hope. It gives people a sense of direction and helps people conquer challenges that they never thought they would achieve. The example left behind by a young man named Christopher McCandless in Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer demonstrates how living on the road and surviving off the land can prove to be a pilgrimage and help enlighten others to go out in search of their own philosophical ideals. Whether it is being away from home and travel all across America, not settling down in one place, but staying long enough in one place and have an affect on someone else, or being with your family hiking up a mountain and be able to look at the scenery that nature brought forth.
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.
I see my weekly client come in and sit on my chair. “The usual”, he tells me casually. I nod my head and begin to pick up my clippers. Before I know it I see a line of eager people anxiously waiting to hear the words “Who’s next?” Yeah, it’s a tough job but somebody has to keep the clients looking their best. That is why I decided to become a hairstylist. The idea of cutting hair has always been a dream for me ever since I was a small child growing up. I would take my Barbie dolls and pretend I was a hairstylist and created all sorts of peculiar and weird hairstyles. I mean lets face it; my motive for cutting hair is to revamp people so they can feel confident about themselves on the outside as well as in the inside.
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
In his investigative biography Into the Wild, Jon Krakauer implies that wilderness has come to mean more than survival to the American mind. Krakauer’s stories of his own dangerous and self admittedly “idiotic”(151), adventures into Alaskan wilderness are a great way to tie the message close to the author. In the past authors have held wildly romantic ideals of nature, and its deepest secrets; Into the Wild is a direct contrast to such writing, with dark and truthful representations of the way reckless adventure often turns out. The American mind is infected with disproportionately romanticized ideas of how humans are truly natural beings; this has led to the misadventure or death of many people in the wild. Additionally, Into the Wild details
One of the most enjoyable things in life are road trips, particularly to the Colorado mountains. Getting to spend time with your family and friends, while being in a beautiful place, is irreplaceable. The fifteen-hour road trip may feel never-ending, but gazing at the mountains from afar makes life’s problems seem a little smaller and causes worries to become a thing of the past. Coming in contact with nature, untouched, is a surreal experience. My family trip to the Colorado mountains last summer was inspiring.