Hero's Journey-Personal Narrative

clear air; but then the snow accumulates, builds up on the runners, and you slow, you have to

He constantly decided how cold it was and how he didn’t like to be as cold as he was. Inevitably, the psychological factors wore his mind and soul down to make him only think how cold he was. By the end of his situation, any warmth, whether by the sleep of death or fire, was all the man could think about. Without any imagination to focus his thoughts elsewhere, the man helped himself collapse into his final doom.

The snow was melting and Larry didn't have any miles on his brand new snowmobile. So Larry got the bright idea and a couple ideas from his friend Phil swift

As I was hunting through the mystical forest Herot looking for the meal of the night.I was to return to the cave by 9 o’clock to tuck in my precious son to bed.He had a fever that kept on going up and down,and the only thing thing that could help him was a small monster in the forest.I felt this sudden pain in my chest.I ignored the feeling thinking it was just a normal heart burn.I killed the little monster and brought it back home expecting Grendel to be in bed sleeping.I flew into the cave and called out to him.

Page 3 Rebel Ridge Snowmobiles – Journal Entries 1st Web-Based Edition, Copyright © 2010 PKL Software, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Last Revised: April 1, 2010

Once the snow started many people became stranded where they were at. Many people were stuck at work, school, and even in their vehicles. The people stuck in vehicles were the major portion of the death toll. Roadways became unpassable and alternate means of travel had to be acquired. Many people used snowmobiles to travel during this time. Snowmobiles became a huge asset to help get food and rescue people during the storm.

He looked around, then asked his mom where Dad was. She choked a little before explaining, “Dad’s really busy right now with saving more people, like the men who rescued you.”

It is very important to stay on the trail during snowmobiling so then you don't hurt anything under or above the snow. If there is a baby pine tree growing then you run it over it with the track of the sled it could kill the tree. Maybe a farmer is planting winter rye and wants you to stay off from it so then this

Opening my backpack I quickly rifled through it. Scriptures, check; suit jacket, check; dinner list, check. Then to the most important pocket, the right hand side pocket. I dug through the pocket until I found that for which I was looking for¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬−my black Karrimor glove liners. Putting on my jacket I started to account for what the road might be like. The falling temperature and humidity made for a dangerous bike ride home. It made me think of home and the possibility of black ice.

Tires squealed on black ice and the engine backfired as she swerved around a narrow edge of the cliff. Jennifer Lesniak is traveling from Wisconsin to Oregon in a six ton truck through treacherous mountains and endless plains. It was three days of almost non-stop driving, only being able to sleep when she gave the wheel to her husband. Just when she was about to give up she thought the extreme weather in Wisconsin and about why she was moving to Oregon in the first place. She carried on willed by the warmer weather that awaited her on the west coast. The snow fell like ash from a volcano, building up on the road to the point where they had to get out of their truck and shovel the road clear. “Clearing the roads were extremely difficult” She said. “We were so close to the edge of this mountain standing on slippery ice trying to shovel the snow out of the road with little to no safety guard between us and the drop.”

"The falling snow curtained them about. There was no way to see anything at either side of the road. He was coughing again and the boy was shivering, the two of them side by side under the sheet of plastic, pushing the grocery cart through the snow. Finally he stopped. The boy was shaking uncontrollably."

The snow hadn't let up in days, and it showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. Arthur Kirkland,

“only the faint remnants of a packed snow-machine track remained for him to follow” (162)

Locking the door behind me, I stepped onto the packed snow with a satisfying crunch and walked down to my car. A large blanket of shiny, Winnipeg snow covered it. Pulling my jacket sleeve over my bare hand, I brushed most off, but stopped when I noticed a folded piece of damp paper tucked under the windshield wiper. I gently pulled at it and gingerly unfolded it, careful not to rip the delicate paper.

We thanked her and pulled on our coats and mittens. I grabbed my white chocolate mocha before heading out into the thick snow. Karina and Alan argued over who was going to drive through the storm on the way home and eventually Alan conceded. As he scraped snow off the car, Karina jokingly warned me that it was going to be a rough trip home. I figured she was just exaggerating since she loved to make fun of Alan. Then, Alan hopped in and insisted Karina played Christmas music.