We stood imperially on the summit of this wondrous peak. We had
conquered the mighty North face of the Eiger, the most treacherous
ascent in the Alps. Daniel Anker and I sat astonished on the summit
grinning insanely at each other, unable to fathom words to describe
our exultation.
We watched the sky in awe as clouds rolled by. Just then, Daniel, who
was naturally anxious about practically everything, spotted a group of
storm clouds approaching menacingly towards our position.
"Stop being so worried, its just some minor storm clouds, they'll
pass," I said trying to comfort him. He was a fantastic climber and
companion, but easily traumatised. The clouds did look slightly
perilous, and my slight trepidation bubbled to my usually ice cold
exterior.
"You look kind of scared" Daniel replied.
I ignored him. I felt a tension that hung in the atmosphere. There was
a fizzing, crackling feel in the air around us as we pulled on the
hemp ropes and our jackets rustled in the electric atmosphere. I
looked deep into Daniel's eyes. He was horrified at the helplessness
of our situation. We were at the mercy of nature. My worst fears had
been realised. A storm was upon us.
Just then there was a colossal explosion of thunder. We stared in mute
amazement as ostentatious lightning, the colour of burnished gold,
burst in white-bright flashes flaming against the crenellated ridge.
Thunder, colliding in sheets of monstrous sound, rattled the air and
practically deafened us. We just sat, timorous almost to the point of
death. The wind rose to a shrieking, venomous pitch in its furious
battle with mountain. The air stank of scorched stone ...
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our feet as we winced and slipped on the sliver-thin shards of raw
glass. Boulders blasted skywards by bolts of flame tumbled against the
searing light. The crashing roar of thunder, pounded relentlessly
against our ear drums and the smell of scorched rock flooded our
noses. It seemed the tempest would never end and we sat huddled for
almost an age.
Suddenly, everything went dead. The storm passes into the horizon
bickering and snapping angrily. It seemed the storm was livid at not
defeating us. A tranquil rain fell about us. The storm was over. The
setting sun painted the emptied clouds with glowing pastels. The
beauty of this site enthralled us. Against all the odds, we had
conquered this amazing piece of nature's handiwork. Daniel and I had
broken all our physical and mental barriers, and beaten the Eiger.
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.
Throughout history women have pioneered their way into occupations that were once occupied solely by men. Not surprisingly, many achievements have come from women challenging and stepping out of their expected social roles. Today most women are free to voice their opinion and express themselves in every aspect of their lives, including their marriage. It was not long ago when women were deprived of this freedoms. In “The Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin Mrs. Mallard has been informed of the death of her husband. At first she feels melancholy because they both loved each other. He never mistreated her but at the same time she was chained to him. She quickly changes her mood when realizing what the death of her husband has given her. In the story “The Storm” by Kate Chopin, Calixta is a loving
WHITE HURRICANE November gales are a curse on the Great Lakes. In 1835, a storm was said to have "swept the lakes clear of sail." Lake Erie was blasted by 60 mph winds on November 22 and 23, 1874. On Nov. 25, 1905 a November gale sank or stranded more than 16 ships. On Nov 11, 1940 (Armistice Day Storm) a storm wrecked 12 vessels.
he started to tell me, and I felt as if asking why he caused the storm
Planet Earth is under attack by the very entities charged with its protection. Human beings are systematically destroying the planet and are deaf to its, so far, relatively subtle warnings. When temperatures rise by just a fraction of a degree, or yearly precipitation amounts increase by just an inch or two, these changes can be imperceptible. However, when these small changes accumulate after a period of years they can result in natural disasters that are uncommon to certain geographic areas. Ocean temperatures have steadily been on the rise for years. These changing temperatures have the potential to irrevocably change weather patterns for the entire world. In August of 2011, Hurricane Irene gave much of the east coast of the United States a taste of what changes in global weather patterns can do. The hurricane showed many communities how vastly underprepared, and unequipped they are to deal with such a storm, and it served as a wake up call to the human race, to take better care of the planet. A case study of these realizations can be viewed through the prism of severe weather related events at the Humane Society of Ocean City.
Imagine the horrors that accompany a great hurricane. Visualize the wind, rain, and waves. Hear the piercing screams through crashing waves, crushing buildings, and trees falling. Picture the great devastation. The Galveston Hurricane of 1900 was caused by abdominal weather conditions, and led to great destruction. Many lives were lost, and colossal rebuilding of the city had to take place. New city laws and plans were adopted from the hurricane.
Tranquility fills the dull atmosphere. Not knowing how much water the clouds contain before the downpour starts, we innocently set ourselves up for an endless journey; a journey to find the purpose in life. A droplet of rain trickles down onto the top of your head, following a shower of many more droplets. Lightning flashes and booms of thunder take over the sky. Many are hesitant of whether to continue their journey or hide from this storm; an umbrella can only give so much protection against the rapid winds and stinging raindrops. Many describe thunderstorms in a frightening way, but the strong willed individuals who embrace the storm think with positivity - rain is changing the environment and bringing life to the world. Once the rain subsides, the atmosphere, exhausted and worn out, settles down back into the calm tranquil environment that it once was. The sky, once filled with dark and murky clouds, is filled with blue. One may either face the challenge they have been approached with to move on, or decline and stay caught in a storm. An individual’s view of the world has immense power of whether one’s obstacles will result in failure or achievement. It is the mentality that we approach life’s challenges that determine the positive or negative outcomes in our lives.
Kate Chopin is famous for stories that have characters with a lack of ethics, and her 1898 tale “The Storm is no exception. The closing statement “So the storm passed and everyone was happy.” (Chopin, 282), is a clear statement of that lack of ethics. This line is spoken after the adulterous Alcee has told his wife to stay away for longer if she would like. From an ethical standpoint, the final line in the story is false. As Adultery is unethical, there is no founding in morality for the last line of the story to be true. Three immoral actions in the story are the action of infidelity, the letter Alcee sent to his wife encouraging her to stay away longer, and the fact that Bibi and Charlotte have no knowledge of the sinful events that took place in the story.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
When a tornado forms or passes over a water surface, it is termed a waterspout. Like tornadoes, they may assume many shapes and often occur in series or families. Measurements of their forward speeds are scarce, but estimates vary from a few kilometers an hour to as high as 64 to 80 kilometers per hour. Contrary to popular opinion, a waterspout does not "suck up" water to great heights; though it may lift the water level a few meters. The main visible cloud consists mostly of freshwater clouds produced by condensation of water vapor; however, a sheath of spray often rotates around the lower portion of the vortex tube. Thousands of vacationers and several scientists witnessed one of the largest and most famous waterspouts, observed near Massachusetts on Aug. 19, 1896. Its height was estimated to be 1,095 meters and its width 256 meters at the crest, 43 meters at center, and 73 meters at the base. The spray surrounding the vortex tube near the water surface was about 200 meters wide and 120 meters high. The spout lasted 35 minutes, disappearing and reappearing three times. Most waterspouts are smaller, with much shorter lives. This exceptional spout is an example of one that apparently was spawned by thunderstorm-squall conditions, similar to those that produce tornadoes over land. There are few authentic cases of large ships ever being destroyed by a spout, although spouts are a dangerous hazard to small vessels. A few intense waterspouts have caused deaths when they moved inland over populated areas.
Kate Chopin wrote the short story “The Storm” one of her most bold stories and did not even intention to publish it (Cutter 191). The two main characters in the story are Calixta and Alcee. They both used to be attracted to one another in previous years, but now they are both married to someone else. After Alcee arrives to Calixta’s house looking for shelter they are driven into a passionate moment. In the story “The Storm” the storm has a significant meaning; without it the affair of Calixta and Alcee performed would not have been as powerful as it was between them. “The Storm” has a great deal of symbolism throughout the story: the clouds, the use of color white, the storm relative to the affair, the after effects of the affair, Calixta, Bibi the son, and the husband Bobinot.
During this short voyage I saw the lightnings playing on the summit of Mount Blanc in the most beautiful figures. The storm appeared to approach rapidly; and, on landing, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased. (49)
Davidson, Frank. “The Tempest: An Interpretation.” In The Tempest: A Casebook. Ed. D.J. Palmer. London: Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1968. 225.
“The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.” (96)
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.