The gears of my mind turn as if they were water wheels, pushed by the very waterfalls they were remembering. The memories surged to the surface like divers desperate for air. Then, Mrs. Long calls out “ Let's go, it's our last day!”. The sound of footsteps woke up the forest around us as we marched out of our tents. In the distance, from a clearing in the sea of tents that surrounded us, our guide greeted us, “ Hello!” she yelled “ Hurry up or we won't make it to the mist trail.”. And so that day from many months ago began again. We walked, following our guide, for a long time; hours passed as we looked at the scenery walking on narrow gravel trails. Mountains, rivers, forests, and many other unique landscapes held within the Yosemite Valley …show more content…
It was an hour past noon and the full heat of the sun was on us when Grace called out “ 99 bottles of coke on the wall…” and she continued to sing it, trying to get others to join in, “ 98 bottles of coke on the wall…” and so forth until we approached a small puddle, concealed from the sun by a tree a pooling from a small stream, trickling water off the rocks. Some of the boys grabbed handfuls of water and poured it on their hair to keep them cool, which was probably wise because we were low on water bottles and the sun continued to sear us with blazing heat. We did not rest for a long time and quickly continued towards our destination. As we went up a steep portion of the final portion of the trail protests began to arise about hurting feet from my weary 7th grade class, for we had walked hard each day for the entire week. “ Already tired?” I asked them with a small smile. Our party took a couple minutes to rest and take pictures before we began to walk again. The trail was sliced in half by the wondrous and violent rapids. We passed onto the bridge above the river and stood in front of the rapids, looking high above at the waterfall. Vernal falls was beautiful and we observed the water as it crashed down onto the rocks and tumbled into the rapids beneath us hastily. The ferocious current was fast and roared constantly in our ears. I asked if we were hiking all the way to the …show more content…
It was not more than ten minutes, though, before we returned to our walk up the path, the end close before us. Soon, our guide announced, “We will leave the path over there.” pointing further down the trail and to our left. Our guide demonstrated to us the semi-disguised staircase of rocks, nimbly stepping down the inconspicuous structure. and she led us onto a damp, tremendous bolder reaching out over the rapids, as if it wished to be a bridge to the other side.
We stepped cautiously, fearful of falling. The view was the most beautiful we had seen all day; tall grey-white mountains towering around us, covered by the deep green of Sequoias, and Vernal falls, a great wall of water falling over the edge of the mountains, onto the fallen boulder. The mist sprayed our faces and kept us cool as we looked at the
This vacation spot White describes through memories of his boyhood days always seemed to be so wonderful no matter what had gone wrong. White recalls the time when "[his] father rolled over in a canoe" and another time when "[they] all got ringworm" but none of this mattered in the long run, after all, this was the best place on earth. To White the mountain lake is seen as "constant and trustworthy", and on the trip back there with his own son, White wondered if "time would have marred" the appearance of the lake. Thoughts of the time spent there summer after summer continued to revisit White throughout the trip and everything from thunderstorms to the stillness of the water
It was simply amazing hiking out there, the mountains covered in tall trees that dug into the rocky soil, the beautiful sky, when visible. Even in the midst of strenuous exercise I still en...
The time spent there became more about meeting family friends and going to dinners. Almost four years passed before I returned to the memory of getting lost in those woods. It was a week before the start to my junior year of high school, and I was visiting my grandparents in Virginia. One morning, after a very early breakfast and a promise to return promptly, I walked outside toward the woods. I walked aimlessly, remembering the similar trips I used to make in the forest upstate. I saw a young kid, eager to dirty his hands with exploration of the tangible world. I was older now, and my summer had been spent exploring a possible career path by interning at a financial services firm. A sudden thought crept slowly into my mind, piecing itself together before my
The skies were clear and a very bright blue. We unpacked our gear from the car and started hiking on the trail. Walking on the rocky trail was hard and tiring but the views were great. There were areas that were very grassy and green and others that seemed very dry. Our trail wasn’t on the green side.
As the two men hiked, they came upon many rugged trails and hills that were difficult to overcome, however they did it together and kept moving on. The view from the trail was beautiful with many places to stop and admire the view, but they couldn’t seem to get above the canopy of the trees to truly take in the whole view. The man that strove to see the beautiful scenery from an unobstructed viewpoint was trying in every way to get above what was around him to see the true beauty of the mountains.
My sweat soaked shirt was clinging to my throbbing sunburn, and the salty droplets scalded my tender skin. “I need this water,” I reminded myself when my head started to fill with terrifying thoughts of me passing out on this ledge. I had never been so relieved to see this glistening, blissful water. As inviting as the water looked, the heat wasn't the only thing making my head spin anymore. Not only was the drop a horrifying thought, but I could see the rocks through the surface of the water and couldn't push aside the repeating notion of my body bouncing off them when I hit the bottom. I needed to make the decision to jump, and fast. Standing at the top of the cliff, it was as if I could reach out and poke the searing sun. Sweat dripped from my forehead, down my nose, and on its way to my dry, cracked lips which I licked to find a salty droplet. My shirt, soaked with perspiration, was now on the ground as I debated my
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...
The sea breeze whipped her hair in her face. She stood on a rock above the glistening sea. Bundled in jackets and scarves to shield her from the cold, she sat down to watch the setting sun. The sunset painted brilliant colors across the sky. Pinks and oranges and reds blended across the sky as if it was a blank canvas, that paint was dripping down. The ocean tide slid along the shore and retreated, each time it did so the ocean retreated farther out revealing a lot of sand. It was marvelous to see the hidden treasures beneath the sea. Suddenly a large wave was seen in the distance. A wall of water towering high. She stood up, not sure if she should run or stay. Running sounded best. She hardly had time to think before the towering wave advanced
Bill Bryson the author of the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods’ constructs the story in a certain way to try to get the reader to accept his attitudes and values about how dangerous and death defying Earl V. Shaffer and other’s are in attempting to travel the trail. He uses the techniques of emotive language, unusual language and use of first hand accounts in the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods‘ . The use of descriptive and humorous language, combined with conversational text has allowed Bryson to express his feelings and opinions on his and others experiences on the Appalachian Trail to the audience.
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.
As I began to walk this trail, I began to recollect the days of when I was a kid playing in the woods, the birds chirping and the squirrels running free. The trees interlocking each other as if I am walking through a tunnel with the smell of fresh pine and a hint of oak all around me; a hint of sunshine every now and then is gleaming down on the beat path. This path is not like your ordinary path, it has been used quite some time, as if hundreds of soldiers have marched this very path.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
When time jumped like lighting, so did we, not to our feet but towards each other. We held one another even tighter and didn't want to let go. Although, time was spent wisely and carefully saved, we had run out and were rushed like an ambulance to meet the schedule appointed in half an hour. In sweet bitterness, we packed up and went home. An everlasting day at Lake Lavon that is perpetual in my heart will remain there forever.
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
In the distance, the trail along which I had been walking wound through a thick velvet fog. Lining the path were tall trees that stoo...