Creative Writing: The Blue Ridge Mountains

After three hours of of hiking what felt like a vertical slope, the top of Mount Haystack was right in front of me. I knew that I could keep pushing through because I had suffered so much worse before. I wasn’t about to let this mere incline prevent me from reaching the top. I powered through the aching muscles and throbbing knees, while ignoring the sharp radiating pain in my calves. After what felt like forever, I was standing 5260 ft above the sea and taking in a spectacular view. When I glanced to my left, I realized I wasn’t quite at the top, I still had two more peaks to go before I’d reach the top of Lafayette. So after a few minutes of rest I got started on the rest of the hike.

The mountains are a beautiful adventure. As you walk up the incline, trees overhang, animals run wild, and rivers roar. All of these are things that keep me coming back to hike. On my most recent hike, while it may have been 100 degrees back home, where I was it was a chilling 40 degrees. As we walked around ten miles up and over the mountain, I took many breaks to catch my breath and take in the majestic scenery. There are also the snow skiing vacations. While you can’t see anything besides snow and trees, the adventure of cruising down the slopes is full of adrenalin. The mountains have always signified an adventure for me. Just like the mountains, life is a beautiful adventure. I do not know yet what adventures are in store for my life, but I look forward to them. I strive to see the beauty in everything.

Jefferson City, TN- The Jefferson County Patriots, comeback from eleven-points down in the third set to sweep the South Doyle Cherokees 25-21, 28-26, 25-23, on Thursday night at the Patriot Academy.

Taking on a journey stretching well over 2,100 miles, covering fourteen states (from Maine to Georgia) by foot is no simple stroll where at the end of the day a comfortable bed and hot meal would await you. Instead, hiking the Appalachian Trail can be an endless battle with all the elements of mother nature: whereas in one state spring would have sprung already with wildflowers dressing the forest floors and insects buzzing through crisp air, on other parts of the trail it [the weather conditions] would be smothering heat, but meanwhile a few states north the rain would fall endlessly with gusts of cold wind, and snow would blanket the pathways of the trail and more than likely blizzards

It was August of 1829 in Mississippi. Men were harvesting corn and beans. The smell of the Choctaw own acorn bread filled the air. All the children were prancing about, playing with friends, shooting squirrels with their little toy bows, and wrestling for the last bite of jerky. All but one child. That lonely little boy’s name was Koi. Koi never got to play with the other Choctaw boys, as he had to prepare to become chief.

As we started along the trail, I worried about forgotten items and my decision to only bring one extra pair of socks. However, after a while, I became aware of a pair of birds chattering above me and the soft murmur of water trickling down a stream bed. After an hour of walking, the trail starts winding back on itself in a series of switchbacks. The chatter between my family members slows down, as we soon struggled to breathe from exhaustion. Sometimes I was hunched over so far from my load that I would stare at my rubber-toed boots and forget to look up at the majestic trees surrounding me.

On we hiked towards the cloud cover, passing by crystal clear ponds and fields of snow, left over from the winter before. As we gained elevation the temperature dropped and a wind came up out of the south, forcing us to stop after a few minutes to put on our extra jackets. We did our best to stick to the center of the ridge from that point onwards. If it hadn’t been as wide, we would have had to turn back for fear of being blown off the edge. The worsening conditions made continuing difficult, but we did so nevertheless.

The settlement of Cripple Creek came in sight as the men drove the herd of cattle through several large red sandstone monoliths. The cattle bellowed and moved in a strait forward procession down the winding dirt road, with El Capitan, known by the Spaniards as the ‘The Leader’ of the great Rocky Mountains, in view.

For my trip to Louisiana I would bring along two of my friends. I would bring along Granddaddy Cain, because on car rides it is better to have Quality Company than to have quantity in company. One quality of his that I admire is that he is described as “tall and quiet like a king” (Bambara, 67). This quality is repeated twice in the story and is inferred from the description of his large hands. Another good quality is his manners in which he deals with the two men. He starts out nice and welcomes both men “like he’d invited them to play cards and they’d stay too long” (68). After Cathy describes how his coworkers would describe him granddaddy Cain. He then gives the two men a reason to leave by swatting at their camera and makes it hit the

Bill Bryson learns of the awaiting challenges the trail has before having even set foot on it, but he is determined to make the most of the Appalachian Trail. He excuses what others believe to be a hopeless trek and instead embraces this opportunity to finally enjoy the outdoors. After living abroad for close to a quarter decade, Bryson feels the need to “reacquaint [himself] with the scale and beauty” (2) of nature. By setting out on a positive note, he readies himself for what is ahead, because he knows that whatever he encounters may be far from his expectations. Even so, he prevents the things that stand in his way from impacting his decisions, facing his problems head on.

The sound of the chirping birds awoke me. The smell of the grassy-smelling rain tickled my nose as I pried my heavy eyes open, tired from yesterday’s long day of adventuring. I squirmed out of my cozy sleeping bag, being gentle on my sore back after sleeping on the diamond-hard rock last night. I crawled out of my little compact tent as my stomach growled of hunger. I looked out to the foggy distance where the egg yolk-like sun was rising from behind the bumpy, tree-filled mountains. I gathered my hiking essentials and munched on a protein bar as I started exploring on the wet, slippery trail. Suddenly, I heard a footstep behind me. I turned around, but nothing in particular was there. I kept strolling along, observing the many species wandering

“That idiot wouldn’t know a masked booby if it landed in his lap,” thought Nelson.

Right in her own backyard, Everest finds a map in the forest. She runs back inside to inform Lio of her discoveries. They both follow the map through the forest. The map leads them to a very dark place in the woods. They look around with flashlights and then they hear a buzzing noise. There is a fairy. Her name is Dream. Dream spots Everest and Lio. They say, “Oh wow, who are you?” She responds, “I’m Dream the fairy.” Everest and Lio are slightly frightened. After a while, they get used to Dream and agree to learn about Dream and her world. She is a fairy who was sent out to retrieve the map that Everest and Lio had. She decides that she might as well take Lio and Everest to her world since they were so fascinated. Dream leads them to a

As I hack away at chest high buckthorn I glance into the distance to locate the opening I've been waiting for. Finally, I have forced my way through the dense brush and onto a ridge above the glistening waters of the Bighorn River. The glare of lethargically moving water stuns my eyes as I cautiously make my way down the bank and splash my face with a handful of water. While maneuvering myself across the river I struggle to stay on my feet. I push forward and locate a flat and clear area ideal for my campsite. I reach a relaxing stop underneath a willow tree to provide pleasing shade during these hot Montana months. The sun's slowly starts to disappear over the distance mountains as my eyes gaze into the majestic star filled Montana night

The town hadn’t changed much since Bonnie had left and ever since she had returned, she felt more out of place then any. Mystic Falls used to be a home that Bonnie could always come back to, no matter how bad life got out there. Since returning, Bonnie hadn’t been able to really take to Caroline or Elena for the simple fact she didn’t know how to even address the subject. It wasn’t her friend’s fault that her Grams was now gone but they did play a key role in it. Coming back was a lot more painful then she had presumed and for safety reasons, she continued to lock herself away from her friends.