Personal Narrative Analysis

I have never been the fittest or a fan of sport. But I have always loved walking and witnessing the entrancing views. Even though I love walking, I can admit I do not do it enough because, let's be honest, i’m lazy. The only mountain’s I have walked up are Cairngorm from the top station and Craigellachie. So why not, let’s walk up Ben Nevis. I know right a massive jump, I thought I was prepared, oh boy was I wrong.

Only one of my friends is in to hiking. The other, well they do not mind it, but they do not get out a lot. Same with me, I would love to, but it is very rare that I have a full day off, and have people who want to go with. That why I chose to do my practice journey during my March Break, and told my friends they had to do it with me. So during the Tuesday (one of the three days I had off work) I packed a hiking bag, picked them up, grabbed Pita Pit for lunch, and drove up the mountain.

My father and I did discuss the move, and we received daunting news about the sale of our current house, but one quarter mile later, I had forgotten about it and was able to maintain an optimistic mentality despite my often pessimistic nature. Not once did I worry about my grades. Most unusually, I felt a profound sense of peace, the type that comes from home. Unlike other activities that are only able to delay the confrontation of stressful pressures, I found lasting peace and resolution in the hike. Cumulatively, we have now done five hikes and gone about 100 miles spanning from West Virginia to central

Unexpectedly, May was the cruelest month. I thought the snowy.mountain tops where beginning to melt off. I was wrong, and May had other plans. At lower altitudes it was rain, but above 10,000 feet it fell in the form of sticky, wet, snow. Winter was mild, letting on that Colorado would be passable by late spring, it was a hoax. Hikers formed into parties and attempted to hike on, only to be forced by the snow to turn around. We sat in town for days, twiddling our thumbs and pitching ideas around. On the forth day we came up with a solution. We stuffed a minivan with seven hikers and seven backpacks and headed to Wyoming. Our plan was to hike south, back to Colorado, connect our footsteps.

On June 15, 2013, six weeks prior to climbing Mount Rainier’s Inter Glacier and Emmons Glacier to Camp Schurman (9,450’) on the east side, Tim and I hiked from Paradise (5,400’) via the Muir snowfield to Camp Muir (10,188’) located on the south side. The idea was to replicate similar hiking conditions with a full weighted camp pack, ascend 4,800’ and camp overnight to acclimate to the high altitude. We bunkered down early inside our tent around 7:35 P.M. only to be awakened at midnight by the soft chatter of enthusiastic voices as several climbing parties prepared for their departure for Washington’s grandest summit. Approximately one hour later, the unmistaken crunching sound of crampons meeting the mountain’s cold icy surface would drown

With the afternoon sun beating down on the water and the camp in view, I can’t help but catch my breath in awe as I prepare to hike down the rest of the way, absorbing the beauty of this wonderful place. As the steep trail descends along the shoreline, it runs over the Sierra Mountain streams and makes its way towards camp. Running through camp and past the aged Herrington Lodge that serves as our kitchen, the trail then ascends up and through the campsites which reside on a rocky ridge. Overlooking the Lake from above, the view from the campsites becomes quite relaxing, especially as you climb up higher and higher. The highest campsite on the rocky hill is Eagle Rock, and although the hike can be treacherous, the incredible sight of the distant Sierra Mountains makes it worthwhile. While Camp is in session, I often see some people rowing, or sailing gracefully through the water. Because the south end of the lake is surrounded by a tall rocky ridge, Cody Lake often gets wind from the north, where the valley descends just past the edge of the water, overlooking the distant highway. Looking outwards, I can see a distant waterfall as

“We are only as good as our equipment” or at least that is how the saying goes, but what happens when we have the best equipment and our bodies no longer tolerate atmospheric conditions? Into Thin Air, written by Jon Krakauer,  shows how individuals vary greatly in how well they can tolerate changes in pressure, temperature or oxygen content of the air. This allows them to be one with themselves by bounding with survival, while simultaneously displaying how slowly environmental changes set in, but how rapidly the effects take a toll on the body. Despite breaking down the climb into camps the climb’s structure was one that was also hard to tackle. There was the base camp, camp one, camp two, camp three and camp four. Krakauer, notes that all of the clients going up the mountain have difficulty adjusting to the environmental changes, and though

My phone hit the floor when travel companion and sweepstakes winner Jack Johnston invited me on an all-expenses-paid Mount Logan expedition from Explorer. As avid climbers, this was the opportunity we’ve been training for but assumed was years within reach. Suddenly, it was right in front of us. Within 48 hours we were driving to Kluane National Park and Reserve with a box of granola and truck full of gear.

For seven of our ten days, we hiked through the mountains of Philmont Scout Ranch, where any signal strength was rare. The fact that I wouldn’t be able to communicate with my family for much of the trip had me nervous to go. When I was there, I still couldn’t shake my anxiety. After a few days, I realized that dwelling on my homesickness was doing nothing but hurting me.

For my sophomore project I did a three week course that consisted of river rafting ninety miles down the Deschutes and backpacking the Three Sister’s wilderness. The first week was spent mostly on boats, rafting through the summer sun twelve miles a day with tarps supported by paddles to sleep under at night. As physically and mentally straining as was, it only got more difficult in the next two weeks. We moved to our starting point miles away from the Sisters Mountains. I spent the next fourteen days hiking long distances with a fifty pound backpack on, very limited food, and bleached water. The most impactful part of this trip was the forty-eight hour solo. Two days with no food or company is a very interesting experience that most people

I was forced to adapt to the harsh and unforgiving nature of Bryce Canyon, surviving on natural human survival instincts. I had to make do with the tiny fires, inadequate clothes, and cold nights. It was a constant fight between nature and me. In addition to our burning will to survive, our cooperation and teamwork was integral to pull us through. I put together my knowledge to start a fire and cook as Edan assembled and tried to wind/water proof the tent. We successfully came together to get through an entire week and, luckily, made it out in one piece.

The lack of sleep and bitter cold had sucked the life from my body as I walked down the long black river of asphalt lined by hazy dark trees that played tricks with my tired eyes. I decided to just look forward and stop freaking myself out when a recruit in the front of the formation fell down and couldn’t get up because of the heavy load on his back. The other recruits had to pick him up to keep going, but without any type of warming gear, recruits would collapse often throughout the hike. Our packs were only supposed to weigh 65lbs, but the rain was slowly pushing them down, making them much heavier and harder to carry. The smell of salt stung my nose, which means we were coming up on the ocean that surrounded the island I’d lived on for the past 3 months.

Climbing up the moss covered steep spur after it was raining was one of the main challenges test expedition as it tested both my endurance, balance and courage. It was not helpful that my glasses were covered with droplets of water as it made me paranoid about tripping over stones. It tested my fears as I was afraid of heights, looking back what kept me from slipping and taking a break was never looking back behind me and never looking up at how much longer I had to go, keeping focused on where I was stepping, breathing and the position of my centre of gravity. Towards the end of the first day of the expedition there was one main highlight that made my day. We were all exhausted and down after the long first day hike, and we were no longer at the high spirits we were at in the previous days but, one thing that really helped everybody regain their spirits was the box of free apples on the side of the road on the way the orange tree grove

The lower bowl and multorpor had easy to moderate difficulty terrain, the upper bowl and east side are for advanced skiers, and the outback was strictly experts only. I made it my mission to finally conquer this challenging expert terrain. When I got to the top of the upper lift a mile above sea level, I pointed my skis down a wide open but steep powder field, and dropped in. I looped many turns together in the light, fresh snow and it was exhilarating. I zig-zagged through many trees, dropped over cliffs, and when I got to the bottom of the lift, I couldn’t wait to get back to the top. I knew this was going to be a good day. I continued to make several runs, but I was planning something risky. I wanted to test my ability, so I was to go and ski in the outback finally. This area was not yet open, as evidenced by the avalanche cannons that have been going off all morning. It was only ten or so, and when I got off the lift I had noticed a ski patroller opening the gates to the outback. This moment comes back to me vividly because I can remember the excitement and fear I felt at the same time. I had heard many anecdotal stories about how steep it is, and I had even heard there are no open runs! I later found that this was false information from first hand experience. But, at this time, I seriously thought about how I should approach this “problem”. So, I asked a ski patroller about the easiest way down in the outback, and he recommended going down the closest

It was 9:30 am in the Yosemite. It was time for the orienteering hike. This hike was infamous in our troop, our boy scout troop is unlike any other. We are consider on of the toughest troops in the country to earn the highly regarded rank of Eagle. This hike is considered the right of passage in my troop, this orienteering hike was eight miles or grueling terrain designed to test one’s physical fitness and orienteering skills. The hike is supposed to take 3 hours, but almost every older scout takes much longer, not because of a lack of skill, but rather the sheer difficulty of this course. As I sat on the rock by the 45 degree snow melt lake my fellow life scout and I discussed the rumors we heard from all of the older Eagle Scouts,