Travelogue - Original Writing
It's cold. I'm cold. So cold that I can just see the smallest little
flakes of snow beginning to fall from the night sky. Well not that I
can see the sky, I can't even tell if its cloudy, the orange glow and
the glare of street lamps mask everything above me. Hang on; it's
snowing, so it has to be cloudy, ha! Let me check my watch; it says
7:00PM, I think it's usually a few minutes fast. Such a tacky and
cheap watch it was, straight from Argos's bargain section to replace
the beautiful, expensive Italian one I had stolen at school. But need
over nice! 7:00PM means my train isn't for another 30 minutes, but a
nice, well-lit train station is looking much more appealing than
loitering around on some dark, dank, and downright dangerous
Nottingham streets! Ah here's the bridge, I can see down river at a
pair of small but long... canal boat type things I believe they are,
floating silently, bobbing up and down ever so slightly with the river
flow. They are quite bashed around though, paint is peeling from the
sides, and it looks like it's already been repainted once, I can see
red paint underneath the green. They're moored to the side of the
river by a big thick and strong looking rope tied to a chunky metal
ring that's half encased by the concrete of the riversides. I wonder
how trusting the owners must be, surely any local drunk or delinquent
could go on a nice, relaxing canal boat joyride if he so pleased! But
then he probably wouldn't get very far! With the time it usually takes
the train to take me where I want to go, I'm actually contemplating if
it would be quicker taking one of those tatty old boats. Then again,
I'm not a good swimmer, plus I don't think the river is even in the
general direction home, plus the river looks absolutely filthy, as
thick as oil and rabid wild dogs have probably swam in it, not to
“One day a bunch of guys was standin' around up on the Sacramento River. I feelin' pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says, "Jump in." An' he jumps in the air. Couldn't swim a stroke.
Road I descended a hill and came upon a narrow bridge. The car went off
clouds were gray, the roads were slick due to a recent rainfall and there was
Travel writers or adventurers all write pieces that deal with the same premise: the discovery and experience of the New World. However, in their writing, it is evident that there is an ulterior motive in mind. These motives or purposes can be classified in two broad categories: to persuade people to come to the new world and to warn people of the dangers they may encounter in the new world. It is easy to explore these themes by paying particular attention a couple of notorious writers: Christopher Columbus, Bartolome De Las Casas, and John Smith.
was scary looking at the sky. I walked a few yards and I saw in the
One balmy summer morning my friends convinced me to come swim in Grapevine Lake, which would be very enticing if I was a strong swimmer or had any swimming experience whatsoever. However, I’m not going to ruin a good, scorching summer day staying home wasting my time playing video
himself. It was the last lot on the bay at the end of the road that
Without bothering to even look back, Clary immediately left the happy and safe atmosphere of the brightly lit little house that rested up top the small hill, setting off into the unknown. Her small hands gripped the leather reins, while she rode through the familiar village in which she'd learned to call home over the last several years. The town was usually ridiculously cherry and tranquil at night. Red brick shops, including the bakery, small bookshop, and other business's sat in perfectly adjacent straightened cordial rows. Many of their doorway's lit brightly by soft lanterns. Plants growing in pots added a nice touch and splashes of color to the establishments, which interrupted the annoying, continuous cobblestone pathway on which Wayfarer
She told us “If or when you fall out NEVER let your feet touch the bottom of the river because you will get swept under and it will become even harder to get back into your boat.” I was thinking how hard could it be? Just swim to your boat, grab the oar, and hop on. “The water right now will feel freezing because it’s about 50 degrees,” That made my heart sink, If I fell into the water my body would definitely turn into a snow cone. “Me and the other instructors will be watching to make sure that all of you are following the river path.” After that my mind was racing with fear, what if I fell out and couldn’t get back into my boat, what if I lose the group, or worse.
dense fog. I am hit on the nose with a drop of dew falling from a Coast Live
Owen and put his hand over his mouth Owen tried to shout his Mum but
bad as I expected it to be. The queue seemed to flow by. Like fish in
The wood was enormous. It was dark and it was cold and I needed to get
It doesn’t matter how much faith you have in your swimming skills, the ocean is not the same as freshwater and if you end up in it you will be grateful for your PFD.
…..War was severe. We had no food for more than a day. It was very