Hallets Peak Research Paper

Recently it has occurred to me, that I am finally free from the shackles of fear and its hold on me, that this might be the end of the trail. Nonetheless, the sense that suffering is chasing me weighs down any notions of comfort or relief, frankly because my valley was once no different than the peak, just as safe and appealing. And so I moved in life, the trail never ended. The same pebbles remained unmoved, the same voices and sounds, everything was the same. Remarkably, the further I climbed, the more my perspective changed drastically, shifting my perception of moments and bonds that I developed with others into everlasting memories. Wounds seem to have healed. Gradually the valley below began resembling a gem with undeniable beauty contradicted

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.

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

When depicting the tremendous height and abruptness of the mountain he states that “It was like a window ledge on a skyscraper, no more than fourteen or sixteen inches wide”. Bryson’s use of the simile establishes an illustrative image in the reader’s mind and creates a lasting impression of the situation. This improves the author’s tone as it details the uncertainty and discouragement the men were facing during the hike. Furthermore, Bryson advances his narrative and tone with imagery as he adapts to the trail when it becomes hazardous with oncoming snow and freezing temperatures. Bryson describes his surroundings with a bleak and dreary attitude, for example, he states that “the path was broken by steep, thickly bouldered streams, frozen solid and ribbed with blue

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.

Just this past summer, under the hot, and sticky sun, we pushed our car to the limit, on our 1,000 mile journey to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, although in actuality we might have pushed our fears to the absolute limit. Flipping through the Colorado vacation brochure proved to have posed some interesting vacation destinations, such as "Big Bear Lake" and Trail Ridge Road. With the intent to get high in the sky, our family headed out the next morning to Trail Ridge Road, which is a road that takes you up to a staggering height of 12,000 feet. Although optimistic, we imagined of the vast fields of green, the glacier-topped mountains, and the valleys that undertake the them. As we climbed up to the peak, it seemed apparent that there

We are going on a road trip everybody! Let’s go to the Chain Rock in Kentucky; it will be so thrilling and it’s only a half mile walk there. Doesn’t that sound exciting? No, it isn’t exciting, the walk is more like a hike and it is challenging. No one that rarely hikes can even make it to the Chain Rock, because there is a massive boulder in the way so the trip is pointless, if you have those circumstances. Never go to Chain Rock, it is not worth the gas, money, or time. The trail of the half of a mile hike consisted of woods, heat, and disappointment.

From the trail’s official terminus, the ridge flattened out before rising sharply. This repeated several times, each time stretching higher and steeper, before finally flattening out a thousand feet above our position. On this final shelf sat the summit, hidden from view by thick clouds.

We arrived at Whitman Mission. We walked for 16 days and 255 miles. We will cross the Blue Mountains. A few days ago someone was talking about the mountains. They said when they went over them, it was steep, lots of timber was falling down the hills and hitting their wagons. While we were in the mountains, they were right. While we were there, hundred of branches fell on us and were tumbling down the hills. Our wagon almost fell over multiple times. Tree branches blocked our wheels and wouldn't let us move. It was a nightmare. The hills took us forever to get over because we had to push the wagon up the hill and we had to pull the wagon up to push it down. The oxen were tripping over rocks and branches, the wheels were moving too fast. When

The next morning or more, we got packed up and started making our breakfast, after breakfast, we got our blankets and pillows packed up and we got ready to go to walk to our next destination. Now we got to walk extra miles, and I’m glad that I told them about sleep because we are going to walk extra miles. Yay! So we are going to walk 255 mile and reach our next destination named the Whitman Mission. During the journey, we had to cross the Blue Mountains. I see a wagon road cut over the mountains making it passable for our wagons. I see the hills covered in timber and some of them are really steep, on the hill. I decided to look around while we travel up to the top of the Blue Mountains. It is like a interpretive trail and has a spot for a

In August, I spent a week at Philmont Scout Ranch, a Boy Scout operated high-adventure base in the backcountry of New Mexico. Upon the start of my forty-two-mile trek, my crew and I left our cell phones and wallets at the base camp, as none of these would have any use in the middle of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The relative solitude of hiking with just nine other members of my troop allowed me to truly take in the lovely sights surrounding me. One specific instance was on the last day of backpacking—when we were returning to the base camp. Before the monumental march back towards the hodgepodge of tents resembling civilization, we had to climb the stony monolith known as the Tooth of Time. This picturesque clump of rocks looks as it sounds: a big, rocky chomper jutting out from the surrounding sylvan mountains. From the base camp and a multitude of points throughout the hike, the Tooth seemed minuscule, but this perspective radically changed when I was scaling its side at a forty-five-degree angle. With a tinge of fear, I continued upward until I completely ascended the nine thousand and three foot peak. Atop this summit, a majestic panorama of land and sky pleasantly intruded my eyes. I realized how small I am compared to Mother Nature, making the incoming storm clouds and gusts of wind oddly humbling at the moment. To my surprise, the mountains moved

The snow crunched softly under her warm boots. She brushed the pristine snow off the bench and sat down. The falling snow swirled around her, twinkling in the sunlight like a thousand diamonds. It created a fluffy white blanket on the ground, masking the sights and memories of the day before. She breathed in, inhaling the scent of the crisp mountain air, the wind kissing her face. This was truly a place for her to clear her mind, after all of that that had just happened. The serene blue skies, the fresh alpine air, the panoramic view. From the summit, she could see every crack and crevice in the mountains around her. She could name all of the chairlifts, gondolas, t-bars. She could recite all the statistics of each piste, the steepness, the difficulty, the length.

Despite my fear, last summer I somehow found myself climbing a mountain. Over the winter, Blue Mountain’s prime attraction is it’s steep mountains; some measured 300 metres high. They are perfect for skiing and snowboarding. However, many don’t know how over the summer, the journey up and the view at the top is amazing. At least, that is what my brother said. I wasn’t feeling excited at all. After eating our sack lunches at the base of the mountain, we decided to start climbing. The beginning wasn’t so bad because we just had to walk up. The mountain was very steep, but there was no way to fall down. The majority of my view at that point was rocks and trees that rose in a tiered manner. This continued until we reached the steepest leg of the climb. The trees cleared and there were enormous boulders stacked that stretched for what

Standing at the bottom looking up, there seems to be countless stairs which seem impossible to overcome. Yet, knowing the long trip that is ahead will be worth the breathtaking site which awaits at the top. So you set out, determined to climb the top of this magnificent hill. Walking up the stairs is like walking up the stairways to heaven, a long trip but beautiful once you arrive. Once passing the six flights of stairs, you still do not arrive. There is still a long path ahead of you. Hiking at a sixty degree angle all the way to the top stepping over countless rocks and pipes up the dusty trail. The nature around reminds you that fall is on its way. With dying plants and grass all around, and the leaves on the trees starting to change color. As you push yourself higher and higher up the hill, the temperature slowly continues to drop. Slowly the beautiful sight you have in store starts to become visible. Once finally arriving to the top from the trip that seemed to have taken so much longer then have thought, stretched before you is a sight so beautiful, it takes one 's breath away.

After about an hour of slogging through the mist and marsh reeds, they reached a steep slope, etched by a narrow winding trail, full of cut-backs that climbed precipitously. Proceeding slowly, they picked their way, navigating through loose rocks and outstretched branches of gnarled trees tenuously gripping the slope. After several hours, they reached the summit, a broad, thinly forested plain. Minutes passed as they moved across to a line of large boulders on the southern edge of the plateau.