Which of the following examples sounds more relaxing:
First you haul pounds and pounds of tents, sleeping bags, padding, and more along steep trails. You stop much sooner than you want to, because you need to find a campsite while you still have plenty of light to see. Then you spend a half an hour or more setting everything up. You crawl inside, and kill all the bugs that got in while you were unrolling your sleeping bag. When it is time to go to sleep, you lie down, only to find that your head is lower than your feet and there is a rock right under your hip. At two in the morning, you wake up when a curious animal tries to come inside your tent. In the morning, you need to wait for the dew to dry lest you get home with a sack full of mildew, and then roll, stuff, and tie everything back into your bag. Finally, you haul all this stuff back down the trail.
- OR -
…show more content…
Enjoy a little fishing, or some bird watching, or whatever you like doing when you are among nature. As the sun sets, you leisurely cook a delicious meal and enjoy the sights and sounds of nature. When you feel like going to bed, you look around until you spot two trees about the right distance apart to hang a hammock. You shake out your camping hammock, that weights only one pound, no more than two, and stretch it out easily. After tossing a blanket and a mosquito net over your new sleeping bed, you settle back in perfect comfort to watch the stars until you drift off to sleep. In the morning, everything goes back into the stuff sack in less time than it takes to brush your teeth. You can break camp so early, and so quickly, that you could even get some hunting
The wilderness allows people to escape the crazy hectic lives they live daily and just unwind. Chris McCandless was “ unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart,” throughout his soul-searching journey in the wilderness (Krakauer 31). Many people like Chris will experience different sensations in the serene wilderness, however it calls
It's three o'clock in the morning. I've been sleeping since eight p.m., and now my alarm clock is telling me that it's time to wake up. Most people are sleeping at this hour of the night, but I'm just now waking up to pack up my gear and head into the forest for the morning. Last night I packed my .30-06, tree stand, a small cooler full of food and a rucksack full of hunting equipment including deer scent, camouflage paint and a flashlight. I've been planning a hunt for two weeks, and the weekend has finally come. I get up from bed, shake off the cold of the morning and get ready to leave by four.
I awoke before the first rays of sunlight had passed through the dew-covered trees to the west today. It had rained the evening before, and the smell of wet leaves and grass was still lingering in the air.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said “In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.” The outdoors gives a man or woman a place to escape their normal everyday lives. A person can do countless activities and hobbies while he or she is outside enjoying nature. But where can you go to gear up for a day in the wilderness? Cabela’s Inc. is easily the most popular and versatile place for a consumer to go and get everything they need for an outdoors adventure in one place. Cabela's attracts customers to its stores by expressing their passion for the outdoors and offering a variety of products for outdoorsmen and benefits consumers with the convenience of having everything they need for an outdoor adventure
Wiping the sleepies out of my eyes, I quickly glanced at my alarm clock – 5 am. “Good, I’ve got plenty of time,” I thought to myself. As quietly as possible, which never works when I am trying to, I quickly grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Checking my list and grabbing my gear I headed out to wait for a taxi in the cool fading morning. I could taste the excitement, or was that the humidity?
I wish I had taken the time to watch the squirrels. Instead, I was shivering in the 35 degree night in my poorly insulated survival shelter somewhere in the New York backcountry. Reading Tom Brown's field guide for wilderness survival had inspired me to test my newly learned skills on a three day survival hike, with eight campers looking to me for guidance. In high spirits after a root stew, we all crawled into our individual debris hut shelters for our first night buried in sticks and leaves. By 12am, my shivering affirmed that I had made a mistake. Laying in the miserable cold, I remembered what Tom Brown had said about watching the squirrels stuff their nests to the brim with insulation, and on the edge of hypothermia, quickly got out to
After three weeks of waiting for the grass to grow, it finally sprouted up and we started our journey for Oregon. After the first towns in the beginning, The people guiding me began to throw materials out of the back of the wagon. That's when I noticed that their was all sorts of stuff scattering the trail. That night, my guiders unloaded a pile of assorted materials. In the morning, not to my surprise the wagon was lighter and easier to move. The journy was very dry for the next few weeks it was very dry, except when we hit these little towns. We would stop for no more than a day to stock up on energy, then keep on walking.
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.
As the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon, penetrating the dark, soft light illuminates the mist rising up from the ground, forming an eerie, almost surreal landscape. The ground sparkles, wet with dew, and while walking from the truck to the barn, my riding boots soak it in. The crickets still chirp, only slower now. They know that daytime fast approaches. Sounds, the soft rustling of hooves, a snort, and from far down the aisle a sharp whinny that begs for breakfast, inform me that the crickets are not the only ones preparing for the day.
On the way there I stare out the window watching each different fence transition into a field or a busy highway as my dad 's country music is playing. I know when we get to Highland, because we always pass this little white church that could probably only hold 15 people. Once we pull into the rocky road to lead us out to our camp we have to unlock at least 3 fences that are really old and make a creaking noise everytime you open them. We usually see cubs with their momma or some fawns just running around as we unlock the fence to the camp. When we get to the camp my dad unloads all of our heavy equipment, unlock the welcoming door to our camp, and bring everything inside, while he does that I walk to the four wheeler in our little wooden shed and go unlock the big heavy metal fence that leads into the fascinating, wonderland, looking woods and set up our hunting blind. If you really pay attention when you unlock the fence you can usually hear squirrels scratching up and down the trees and you can hear the quiet chirps of the birds and grasshoppers. I turn the fourwheeler on, regretting it, I go about a mile or two too set up the blind in the freezing weather for my dad and I. If you just stand there in the woods you just think about the wonders of mother nature, you never know what to expect from
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
Inside the cabin there is nothing for entertainment except two old black and white TV’s and an outdated telephone, which is covered in a year’s worth of dust. Sometimes I like to head out to the thick wood on the other side of the river, to look for exciting animals and interesting leaves or stones on the forest floor. On some days I feel like running through the corn fields to watch the fluffy clouds slowly drift across the light blue sky. But when it gets dark I want to get back inside before the angry mosquitoes bite me unmercifully. If they make their way into my cabin they will bother me through out the whole night. When I can, I sit on the porch and wait until sunset, watch the frogs croaking non-stop and the river racing down the banks.
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
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