Hicking In The Woods Analysis

115-miles south of Moab is a land revered by generations of climbers, hikers, and adventurers. It’s a land known as the Bears Ears, a series of buttes that constitute jeep trails, sacred archeological sites, unique sandstone formations, and the cherished climbing walls of Indian Creek. Not only loved by outdoorsman, the Bears Ears is also an important area to the Navajo, Ute, and Pueblo Native American tribes. Excavations here have revealed rock art, pottery, and cliff dwellings, documenting over a millennium of human habitation. The Bears Ears are loved but unprotected, and they are at a pivotal crossroads.

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

Captured from the top of the Daniel Boone National Forest, located in northeastern Kentucky near the city of Morehead, this featured image originates in one of the most beautiful and well kept secrets on earth. Although this location is breathtaking, efforts to capture images from the summit will certainly involve a bit hiking and climbing, but it’s definitely worth the journey. Whether it’s photography or purely for the love of a great hike, I can’t see anyone regretting making this trip. Regardless of the agenda, a striking and tranquil retreat awaits the willing adventurer.

It had looked so far away it was hard to believe I would be on top of it in a few days. Besides in the campsites, we only saw one other group of people during the entire 12 day trek and the only human sounds were our own. Each camp was an island of civilization in a great sea of wilderness, and a wonderful solace to end the day’s hike.

How much deer could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck were driving down the road and came across a dead, pregnant doe? Well, the woodchuck chucking the dear is a bit irrelevant. Rather, the two poems Traveling through the Dark by William Stafford and Woodchucks by Maxine Kumin respectively focus on the relationship between humans and nature. Woodchucks takes an allegorical approach, with a heavy handed political message. Traveling simply examines the significance of human life in the context of nature. If the poems were literary characters, Traveling would be Jane Eyre, Woodchucks would be Brutus. Traveling is personal, with the narrator having a strong sense of humanity, but ultimately basing his actions on logic.

We are off on the oregon trail, the Swansons kept their promise and asked the clines if we could join, after some negotiation and the conformation of me being a blacksmith, they said we could tag along, once we had left I thought all of our problems were over but I was wrong after a while we had reached a hill, and our oxen couldn't pull all of our supplies, we had to get rid of the piano my wife, that was enough for the oxen to slowly pull the wagon up and over the hill. We have reached the kansas river it had taken us two days to reach from independence, we had arrived just as the raft had left to take the last of a wagon train to the other side, once he returned he had told us it would be one dollar to cross after awhile we had

So some of my little and big cousins and I decided it would be fun to go on a hiking trip in the woods. The worst part was it was called Big Bear for a reason, my cousins left me and ran the other direction, but I ran the opposite way were the wasn’t. I knew I was lost but I kept running. I didn’t have any food or water around me.

We walked what seemed like a very long distance. I felt at any moment I would hit the ground I was so tired. The soldiers led us to stockades. I now knew what cattle must have felt like as we were

The scenes journey along the Appalachian Trail captures the true magnificence and greatness of the eastern U.S. of wilderness. Starting in the Deep South at the foothills of the smoky mountains, this journey overwhelms one with southern beauty while also making one experience the South’s legendary simplicity and retreat from the urban gridlock of modern society. The Appalachian Trail’s scenery attracts many people from all over the world to witness it for them. Causing many people to come with their families and possibly volunteer.

On a blazing hot summer early morning with the city traffic roaring! And the hot sun blazing, birds chirping and the smell of fresh green grass. Me and my family were packing and getting ready for our yearly powwow trail trip. My mooshum and kokum were they’re usual selves laughing and cracking jokes, I and my cousins knew they weren’t that funny but laughed at their jokes anyways. After we were all packed and ready we all piled into my kookum’s van and set off to our destination with the hot sun reflecting off the black pavement. The drive to Muskoday reserve was long and tiring, the van was humid and making us irritated, so I decided to roll down my window to let the summer air cool us off, the cool breeze was flowing and the music was booming! A bit later we arrived to our destination with our eyes popping taking in all the scenery around us, mind you this was our first time being in the reserve Muskoday. The excitement of being there and meeting new people was over whelming, the anxious feeling of just wanting to run off and enjoy the scenery with my cousins and friends I had met before from the powwow trails we took yearly.

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.

I never knew the Smokies were so close to my grandparent’s retirement village. Every summer all the cousins jammed into Grandpa’s Ford for our jaunt up the mountains. But back then the hills had no name. They were recognized only by the pop of our ears and the pink silk trees bowing down to the highway. Since those days I have grown partial to any patch of grass with “National Park” tacked to its title. Today the mimosas still tossed their petals to traffic, and the truck remembered its ever-present perfume of damp golden retriever. But today we were going to The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Cade’s Cove, next left,” the road sign read, and two bikes bumped along on the car hitch.

This time this trip is even longer because it took us 319 miles that made us walked for 11 days. On the 6th day, few of us heard a big clunk so we thought that something would have broke somehow. Some of us checked every single one of our wagons to see what had broke. Well right when we heard the clunk, the horse of the Cline Family had startled and stopped until the other animals stopped. So after we walked around, James Seiple found out that the tongue of the wagon had broke in half. So James Seiple started asking for help for the tongue of the Cline Family’s wagon. The rest of us came up to him to see what James Seiple wanted for us. “Help me with this tongue please, it snapped in half and I wanted some of your help.” James Seiple said. Then we all checked on our wagon to see if there is anything to fix the tongue. Then the father of the Colloni Family had grabbed an extra part for the wagon. The father of the Colloni Family came to James Seiple and tried to put it back together and the mother of the Mingo Family taped it up together and it is all fixed. Then we got back to our wagons and started walking to Fort Kearney. Later on the 8th day, a terrible hit us and the wind is gusting really hard with rain and hail. All of us got nothing to do. I got nothing to think

The entrance to the deer trail, which went into the woods, started in my backyard. Before this failure happened to us, we had many semi successful trips into the woods. This was our first time trying to find out where this deer trail went. All of the other times we went into the woods, we went to explore and dig in a creek bed at the bottom of a hill.

I tried to smile back but just the thought of going even a few inches off the ground terrified me. A few weeks ago our history teacher Mr Brown, an old and boring professor had informed us about a field trip that was supposed to help enhance our understanding of the olden times. I was pretty excited for the most part as history was my favourite subject but a week later when I was told it was to camp out in the mountains, I decided against it. But soon enough my friends were begging me to go and I mean the thought of it a few weeks ago seemed adventurous, cool and fun. Now, I watched in horror as the bus approached the starting point of descending up the mountain. I shut my eyes tightly as I squeezed James hand. I could hear the laughter of my friends, Marissa, David, Sheila, Finn and Mike watching the stupidity of my fear. After a while, I finally opened my eyes and looked out the window despite the level we were at and my heart thumping at the thought of it I looked at the breathtaking view of the city below. The view looked like something out of a story book, the city below us was lusciously green and the vibrance of the bodies of water seemed to dazzle from afar, I could see the long chain of cars