Marin Headlands Essay

After three hours of of hiking what felt like a vertical slope, the top of Mount Haystack was right in front of me. I knew that I could keep pushing through because I had suffered so much worse before. I wasn’t about to let this mere incline prevent me from reaching the top. I powered through the aching muscles and throbbing knees, while ignoring the sharp radiating pain in my calves. After what felt like forever, I was standing 5260 ft above the sea and taking in a spectacular view. When I glanced to my left, I realized I wasn’t quite at the top, I still had two more peaks to go before I’d reach the top of Lafayette. So after a few minutes of rest I got started on the rest of the hike.

Pine needles and underbrush crunched underfoot as I climbed uphill on the mountainside. The forest canopy acted as a strainer, blocking all but the most lucky rays of sunlight. Sweat rappelled down my face and jumped off the tip of my nose, falling to the soft earth. My body commanded me to stop, to rest, to give up. For days I had already hiked and camped among the Blue Ridge Mountains with no sense of accomplishment, and I hungered for satisfaction. Rain and constant change in elevation broke my spirit, and encouraged me to go home. I felt as if nature itself taunted me, pushing me to give up. It became my worst enemy.

My eyes open. A crisp, cold wind blows through my my window and hits my face.The whistle of the fall air flows through one ear and out the other. It was quiet. The sound of nothingness was fiercely stopped by the blaring on my alarm clock. October 13, 2015, at 9:30 AM, I roll over and hit my alarm clock, The repetitive sound disappears. I throw my sheets to the side and step onto the cold wooden floor. I grab a pair of

Estuaries are known for being sensitive to several human activities, such as littering and building structures like dams and seawalls that affect their natural flow of freshwater. As estuaries can prevent nearby streets from flooding, they will consequently bring many of their contaminates as well (Baker), which can pose a serious issue for an estuary’s productivity and health. UFL geologist John M. Jager argues that “toxic substances and excess nutrients [from such human-made factors] contribute to fish diseases, algal blooms, and low dissolved oxygen,” all being a threat to the health of not only the estuary itself, but additionally that of its wildlife and even humans themselves.

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.

Agriculture did not occur in the Pacific Northwest because much of its environment was “flanked east and west by the coniferous forests of the Cascades and Coast Range” (Aikens 183). These coniferous forests allowed for vast water system that eventually joined “the Willamette River on its course northward to the Columbia below” (Aikens 183); and resulted in a “gallery forests of deciduous and evergreen trees followed the watercourse, and much of the valley floor was in open grassland with scattered oak groves” (Boyd 67). The coniferous forests and evergreen grasslands for the Pacific Northwest prevented traditional agricultural practices by indigenous settlers, and gave rise to the subsistence “economic pattern of mobile hunting, fishing,

In late May I never pictured myself carving a highmark on Priest Mountain. Priest Mountain is nestled on the east edge of the Grand Mesa National Forest. Deep sugary snow and feathery blue spruce trees cover the mountain and the area around. One fine day it occurred that I had the opportunity to carve my highmark and I still I have the mental image of my territory after that day. Even before that day, Priest has left a impression on me. Priest Mountain, for me, has been such a majestic riding area; Iíve been riding in this area for more than 10 years, and it is such a magical place to ride.

Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock went off at 8 in the morning on a beautiful Friday morning in Brockton. It was kind of hard to believe because Brockton was probably the most destructive city on the planet. Well, at least in my opinion it was. It was the month of May, which meant school is almost over. I was 9 at the time as well. I woke up and jumped right out of bed. I could smell the delicious pancakes being baked in the kitchen by my mother. I ate 2 and then got ready for school. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and headed out the door, which was my usual routine every week day morning. I headed to the bus stop and on my way there, I had a bad feeling about something, like as if something were to go wrong, like something really terrible would happen to something. Or even someone. I tried to ignore it and get through this day as soon as possible as usual, but today was not like any other day, for something horrific occurred on this very day.

A metallic taste fills your mouth as yet another blow hits. Your bones ache as you force yourself to stand. Your arm oozes blood as you cover your swollen face with it. The red dirt below clings to your sweat stained skin. Your muscles tense as you feel the rope around your neck pull taught. A car starts. The idle of the engine reverberates through your already shaking body. A voice calls out over the roar of the vehicle.

It was late Tuesday, and I was up late reading an allegory when a muffled thud pulled me back to reality. I sat up still as a statue while I listened. the sound seemed to be coming from downstairs. I sprang out of bed and ran into the across the hallway.

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

The sunlight tinting the clouds with pink and golden hues reminding me of a Maxwell Parish painting I had once owned. There was a heavy fog and mist coming in off the Pacific Ocean into the San Francisco Bay I noticed that the fog clung to the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sounds of gulls screeching and fog horns moaning, issuing warning of possible danger are coming in off the bay overwhelmed my senses. I did not take the time to breath in this wondrous moment as I should have. It is only now though this reflection that I appreciate the beauty. I had a goal, a destination. I was a force of nature not to be deterred. So onward north I traveled passing monumental sites with a lackadaisical attitude. Not understanding that I needed to breath in, slowdown and enjoy the singular experience of the once in lifetime moments that were flying past me as I raced down the

Sand. Anyone who’s ever been to the beach knows how tough it is to walk in sandy slopes, but a solid mile of 45 degrees or higher of it, near impossible. It was clear that none of us really wanted to continue, but we all knew how far we came. 4 miles through rocks larger than cars, scrambling over and around this fine mountains ridges and valleys, and literal straight up climbs. No matter how much we wanted to, we couldn’t turn back now. After our short thought mental debates we each got up and made our first steps into the grueling process to reach the peak above. Trudging, lumbering and dragging ourselves, along with each other on occasion, we finally witnessed the beauty of the landscape that surrounded us. To the North we could see Mt. Rainier in the distance along with Spirit Lake near the base of Mt. St. Helens sprawling outward with trees nipping at its shores. To the East we saw Mt. Adams and its snow covered summit along with brief bits of Eastern Washington and Oregon desert. And finally to the South we saw our very own Mt. Hood and the valley that lay beyond. It looked so much different from the height we were at. So much green and luscious environment living off of the Willamette and McKenzie

Madison and Ava were today's leaders. We had a five mile hike to go, trekking through enormous boulders all off trail. There were beautiful lakers along the way. At Hortense lake i met eye to eye with this volcanic crater mountain that i had seen the day before. It was amazing to see it so close because yesterday i remember hiking and looking

It’s inconceivable how many lives Everest has taken, yet numerable bodies still remain on the steep, snow muffled, rocky slopes of the mountain. The following lines really emphasize how lucky a climber would be to climb everest and live to tell the tale; ‘And the summit ridge was fanged and cruel, Fanged and cruel, bitter and bare.’ These lines use repetition to emphasize and get the picture of how dangerous the journey is. Here are another pair of lines from the poem; ‘And now with a sickening shock, They saw before them a towering wall’ The poem continues on about how hard the climbers worked to maneuver across the dangerous ridgelines only to find a ‘towering wall’, the last obstacle before the summit. Hillary and Tenzing eventually overcome