Descriptive Essay On The San Juan Mountains

Imagine yourself as a young cowboy that has just received a telegram from a man you met during your time in North Dakota. This man was Theodore Roosevelt telling you that he was going to resign as Assistant Secretary of the Navy and help form the 1st U.S Volunteer Cavalry to fight those rotten Spaniards down in Cuba. Being the striking young man that you are you take up his offer and head down to Texas where this new unit will be training for the harsh environment of Cuba. Training in Texas went great, you and everyone else loaded onto a train headed to Tampa Bay Florida expecting to be there in about 4 days. Just as planned you and the other members of the 1st U.S Volunteer Cavalry arrived in Tampa on time. Now is when the unexpected finally hits, the ships that were to carry all of the men and all the horses will in fact not hold all the men, let alone the horses. You sadly had to get the short straw and were forced to be one of the unlucky men that have to stay in the U.S and take care of all the

This poem documented the Central Valley landscape during 1993. With this given context, readers can conclude that there is a change in landscape and species over time. However, the significance of this is the importance of documentation in regarding to our place in history and for the scientific documentaries. In Professor Tom Hothem’s lecture, “Some Snapshots from the literature of California”. He emphasized that, each and every story is important because it doesn’t only capture the exact moment on how the writer feel, but also the landscape at that point in time. For instance, about 500 years ago, in San Francisco, California there were no trees and was a flatland like Merced, California. However, in the 80s, people planted trees around that area and it became what we see today. If no one had recorded this tiny piece of information, people nowadays would have thought San Francisco was a place that is full of trees originally. Thus, by examining this example, Professor Hothem tried to stress the significance of documentation of the landscape. Information such that is an essential to the scientific entries because it helps scientists to understand the change in surrounding over a period of time and by documenting, scientists can ensure and utilize the information to predict and prevent a change in the

The mountains—Tinker and Brushy, McAfee’s Knob and Dead Man—are a passive mystery, the oldest of all. Theirs is the one simple mystery of creation from nothing, of matter itself, anything at all, the given. Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back as some creeks will. The creeks are the world with all its stimulus and beauty; I live there. But the mountains are

In the summer of 1961 our family leaves the familiar suburbs of Portland, Oregon for the unknown wilds of Eastern Oregon. Sandwiched between the east side of the Elkhorn Mountains and a seemingly endless sagebrush desert, this valley, our new home, is a stunning green oasis in the desert and a

If you ever get a chance to visit Chaco Canyon National Monument in New Mexico, you should take the time to just stand in the desert and listen. The silence in this place is physical; you can feel it surround you. This is a silence with depth and layers that are unbroken even by the wind, which moves through emptiness and speaks only in occasional sighs through the canyons. The air itself is very clear—the lack of humidity gives the cliffs and buttes sharp lines, and the colors of the earth, though muted, stand in stark relief to the blueness of the sky. Night comes gradually to this place. The height and dryness of the air allows the stars to appear before the sun has set—creating an odd

I still remember my brother and me, both no more than 12 years old, sitting in the trunk of a rental van with the hatch open, watching the vast landscape of the Badlands of South Dakota flying away from us. When the car stopped, we would go track down the prairie dogs that scurried beyond sight. When we ran, we carried pen and paper in hand to identify any of the native plant species that we could see. Once we filled these

The first time I every experience the Wildcat Hills was during a difficult time in my life. My parents were going through a custody battle over my siblings and me. They were also both in the process of being remarried. So, when my step father brought us to the Wildcats to explore for the first time I realized how amazing our earth can be. Here in the county known for the Scotts Bluff National Monument, sits over 1,000 acres of land. It wasn’t just the sight at the top of the escarpment that took my breath away. It was the fact that whether you were at the bottom of the hills or the top, when the wind blew that’s all you can hear. It isn’t overwhelming, it is

Our yearly pilgrimage to our deer lease in Menard, Texas starts every year on the first Friday in November. To get there we head four hours north thru the sprawling metropolis of San Antonio, full of its traffic and impatient drivers. Upon leaving the city limits of San Antonio, we head west towards Kerrville and the landscape starts to change drastically. No longer are we driving on flat land but now the car is climbing small hills and the road winds. We drive in this direction until we reach the vast acres of ranch land located on a lonely farm road between the small cities of Junction and Menard. If you drive too fast down the winding road, you will miss the old metal gate that is almost hidden by brush trees. My husband is the hunter, yet I love to come with him, because this is the place, where I disconnect from the fast paced life of city dwelling and feel reconnected once again to nature and I find peace and rest here in this cactus and dirt oasis.

Driving down the Franconia Notch Parkway, the mountain walls rise up around me and consume me. On one side, the guardrail separates me from the cars speeding past in the opposite direction. On the other side, nothing is separating me from the slopes. My eyes slowly follow the smooth curvature of the faces of the mountains. Wind, rain, snow, and ice have shaped the rock in such a way that the rock looks like silk sheets. As my eyes take in more, they come across the sharp jagged edges and ridges where rocks have recently fallen and taken parts of the mountain as their casualties. The sun peeks from behind the summit and causes the great mountains to cast shadows on their smaller counterparts. Crimson, goldenrod, bronze, and saffron leaves dance across the air as the cool gusts of wind blow them along. Soon the trees will become bare and blend with the barren slopes above the treeline, but for now the contrast between the two is unmistakably noticeable.

Four days and 1,304 miles can be the experience of a lifetime. Driving through California, up to the forest was breathtaking. I saw trees mix together until massive trees towered over us. Although the trees are tall and straight, they have knots and grooves in the bark. Some of the trees have rough char marks from past fires. The gigantic trees are thick around the base and rise like skyscrapers; the canopy blocking out the sun. The forest air has a sense of damp earth and nature with cool mist everywhere; the surroundings are calm and relaxing.

For years these two men wander the endless bouty of America. John Muir and Christopher McCandless are these two wonders. Throughout their many adventures, these two men have so much in common, but they lived two very different lives. At a young age both John and Chris fell in love with nature.

Even though I was born in London, grew up in New York and live in a large cosmopolitan city with year-round beach access, I do miss the mountains. My exposure to the works of John McPhee, Edward Abby and Wallace Stegner, compelled me to move beyond the 100th meridian, which is where I intend to remain for the indefinite future. I feel as though my better self inhabits the wide-open spaces of the American West from slick-rock canyons to glaciers. The terrain often beacons, which is one of the reasons why I’m contacting

In the summer of 2015 I took an emergency trip to Mexico, little did I know i’d witness some beautiful jaw dropping landscapes. As I witness my first stop of many I embraced the wonderful sight of Montana Dulce as they called it. Breathtaking red ,orange, yellow and white flowers took over the beginning 2 miles with the fresh scent and nothing but green itchy grass filled the scenery. The sun warming and not blinding but just shiny just enough to not have to squint as we progresses the steep hill. As we progressed it began getting a little rugged. An abundant amount of hard big and small rocks began to take over the steep hill. One more mile on the narrow trails lead to wide paths onces again and moist grass soon took over the scenery. Drizzles

When the sun slowly peeps over the range of mountains, birds shake the morning dew off their feathers and give a cheerful song that would lift even the most sorrowful of spirits. A light fog wraps around the mountain range, reaching to touch every bit of life thriving there. The slight chill in the air is enough to give a gentle shiver, but not enough for the need of a jacket. A breeze tickles the trees, making their leaves shake and sway with laughter. Sunlight seeps in past the thick canopy of branches with hopes of being able to reach the damp mountain earth. The mountains are the best place to live to be relaxed, see the most beauty, and never get bored.

As I left behind the somber forest, I now recognized an appreciation for nature that I did not realize I had. I now knew there was more to nature than just trees and animals, but also I found the