Descriptive Essay : ' Just Around The River Bend '

We were pulling up at the parking lot of Knott's soak city it was so full. I was so exited. First we had to get our tickets. Second we had to find some chairs. Then we went to a pool called The wave cove. And every 5 minutes waves would hit. It was so fun to swim over them. After that we went to a big water slide that was 50 feet tall. My little cousin went on one that was 4 feet tall. Then we ate pizza and salad. Then we went to the Lazy river that took you around Knott's soak city.

A River Runs Through It is a story about family, religion, and fly fishing. This story is a semi-autobiography set in the early 20th century, written by Norman Maclean. That was a time when fly fishing and religion were far more relevant to the average American. Norman spends most of the story describing fishing and fish neither of which are very captivating to me, as well as most people within 30 years of my age. Even though fly fishing takes up most of the story, A River Runs Through It is an incredibly emotional and melancholy story.

One weekend, my friend Hannah and I wanted to go on a quad ride during the night. It was during the summer and we were at Hannah’s house and we were bored. So we thought it would be a good idea to go for a ride, so we asked her step dad if we could and he said yes. We both thought it would be super fun to go for a quad ride. So, we get all geared up in proper clothing because it was cold out and off we went.

The River by Gary Paulsen is a Realistic Fiction novel. The River has 133 pages. According to a customer review on Amazon, “I loved how Brian returned just to save people's lives.” I think the intended audience is for 3rd grade and up because there are some terms and words that young children won’t understand.

Steven Herrick’s work of “By the river” displays a bildungsroman novel in which harry goes on a journey through life, facing love and loss.

In one instance, I went fishing with my father. I’m not really fond of the outdoors like he was, but I loved spending time with him. It had been raining earlier that morning, so the fishing area was wet. He insisted we go to is regular spot so we did. It was under an old rugged beat down bridge that was covered with green algae. By the time we

It was an annual tradition for my dad’s side of the family to get together at this campground over Fourth-of-July weekend. All of the cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and even some friends would be there. I was only eleven and it was a special year because I got to bring my friend Rachelle with me on this trip. We planned on swimming in the lake, tubing behind the boat, fishing, and playing yard games like bean bags and ladder-ball. Tubing was my favorite. There was no better feeling than the rush of falling off and bouncing across the water like a skipping stone.

I was a boy on the precipice of becoming a man when I canoed the Ox Tongue River. It was my final summer going to the Catholic camp, nestled on the peninsula jutting out into Lake Joseph, deep in the Ontario Muskoka’s. It was the summer I was sixteen, finally old enough to go on the annual canoe trip to Algonquin Park. The trip that turns the boys into the men. For years, I was told that this trip would change me, mold me into the good Catholic man I was desperately trying to be. This trip would prove transformative, but not in the way prophesized. Alone on the Ox Tongue River, paddling the thick watery artery into the heart of Algonquin, I found my identity. My mind became clear as the sun burned my face, and I made peace with myself,

We all woke up that morning early so we could get all packed and ready to go. We had to take two separate cars because of how many people we had to take. The car ride was eccentric and ready to jump out of the car and into the lake at any moment. Finally both of the cars made it to the destination, my parents and my friends parents both rented all of the things we could use for today. Throughout the whole day we used the water bikes, kayaks and paddleboards for how

After our first day of walking we are VERY tired. We did not expect it to be this hard. Despite our aching legs, we will not stop to rest, for we know that the journey will take even longer. We have just made it to the Kansas River. We were deciding on how we should cross it, or if we should just wait because the water seemed a little high. We decided to suck it up and cross it considering time. While in the water, our “boat” capsized throwing me and others into the water. We were lucky to make it to the other side safely.

When was the last time that you went camping? For me, several years have passed, but when I do go, I always include Cascade River State Park as one of our stays. Arguably other Parks may offer other amenities, water parks, and Wi-Fi, however at Cascade you will find inviting campsites and amazing hiking trails; there are trails for every level of hiker from experienced hikers with more advanced training and trails with less challenges. Mixed within this park is the majestic and breath taking waterfalls, which is one of the main attractions at this park. Combined with the proximity to the local attractions in the surrounding area makes all of this the reason I believe Cascade River to be

Life is not viewed in just one perspective. Everyone has a different point of view when they are looking at the same thing. In “Two Ways of Seeing a River” by Mark Twain, he writes about how everything he saw on the river held beauty within it. Eventually, everything he saw soon became an indicator of possible problems that should be avoided so he could safely navigate a steamboat up the river. Twain talks about how once he was on the river long enough, everything had a new meaning to him.

Our raft almost sank a few times because of the constant splashing of water into our raft. Each time we passed a stretch of rapids, and especially when we made it to the top of each fall a sense of anticipation would come over me I didn’t know what would happen next. There was always a chance that our raft might hit a boulder and flip, or that someone might fall out. We were always passing these jagged rocks and giant boulders that could have easily flipped our raft or got us stuck. Some of the rocks were sharp enough to give you a bad gash or even break a bone if you hit them with enough force. Many rafts floating aside us were caught on big boulders, and they had a hard time getting there raft loose and back in the water. There were only one or two very unfortunate groups of people that had the misfortune of accidentally flipping their rafts. Our guide kept screaming out orders telling us which way to paddle or lean to keep us from flipping. Luckily, we never did.

“The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it”. That’s how V.S. Naipaul starts his novel “A Bend in the River”. The book describes the post-independence struggles of an unnamed Africa governed by a dictator, “The Big Man”. A Bend in the River is a story of historical upheaval and social breakdown. The collision of cultures in India, Arab, Africa, South America, and the Caribbean inform the extraordinary view of Naipaul’s creative imagination. He was born in Trinidad in 1932 from a Hindu family that had come generations back as indentured servants from the subcontinent of India to a tropical island in the Caribbean, where Hindus were a minority. Perhaps the shape of his vision owes something to his own placement in the world. Salim, our first person narrator whose roots come from mixed Muslim Arab-African but more closely related to Hindus of northwestern India. He and his family had been living at the Eastern coast of Africa that was filled with people who were not truly African. They were

It all started with a want and need of a dream fishing trip somewhere that we all have never really been to. So once I had brought the idea up to my buddies we ended up coming up with the great idea to go on a fishing trip near Minneapolis Minnesota. So we came to the conclusion that we would take a five day trip and that we would go old school and just camp for a week. Which little did we know that we were totally unprepared for what would actually occur on this trip.