Personal Narrative: Big Bear Lake And Trail Ridge Road

For two years I worked as a camp counselor for the Western DuPage Special Recreation Association (WDSRA). In this time, I have worked day camps, inclusion camps, social program,s and even an overnight camp for children, teens, and adults with special needs. My responsibilities were to plan crafts and activities that were inclusive to the various needs and abilities of the campers. Most of all, being a camp counselor meant creating a safe and fun environment for each

Rugged River Rapids In the rugged river rapids, The salmon slowly swim. Four years in the ocean,

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.

It's about a four hour car ride to Devil’s Lake, North Dakota where we stay. The first three hours are the worst, I'm so anxious and so excited to start hunting the next day it's almost unbearable. But the last hour or so are better because, as we enter North Dakota we start driving by little potholes and lakes that are full of ducks which just gets me pumped and more anxious for the next morning. We camp about 10 minutes out of the town of Devils Lake down a long, windy, partly flooded dirt road at an old farmer’s land on the edge of a lake. This time is the worst, we have to set up camp. We set up our camper and our family friends camper, but the whole time I'm not focused. All I can think about is waking up at 5:00 A.M to go shoot some

Red Lake Ontario a place that I’ve been But only in my dreams in the last year and ten It’s always been with the boys, mainly my son I invite you into my dreams because you’re my special one. The cabin on the hill faces north over the lake But as the sun set down theres not even a wake

During the summer before my Freshman year I went to hell and back, and by hell I mean Philmont scout ranch. Just a little background, Philmont scout ranch is 140,117 thousand acres of big rugged, dry, mountainous terrain. I knew what I was getting into, Ever since I joined boy scouts Philmont was regarded as the ultimate scouting experience, so of course i was pressured into that. Eventually summer rolled around and before I knew it I was on a train to New Mexico.

While we sat in our rambling tan and yellow cabin among the trees at 416 Spencer Falls Lane at Big Bear Lake, we watched the gloomy rain fall all morning long. Finally, the storm passed and the dark gray clouds passed over, the sun shone brightly on the wet grass. Yes, the day soon was as pleasant as any other august day, of course we knew it was frequently the case with a warm summer rain. This time, however, the rain had swelled the river washed away our small wooded bridge. Elaine my youngest sister sat beside the washed out bridge, she was so unhappy because it was loss. It was then that a shiny blue convertible drove up beside her, the four of us, our names are: William, Martina, Ella and David, watched as the car approached, it was around

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

The sun began to creep up behind the towering pine trees as I sip on my torrid coffee. I glance at my watch which reads 5:45 am, I gather my tackle box that's overflows with hooks and line and stick in underneath the damp boat seat. The water glistens in the morning sunlight, I aboard the scent of pine needles which is always prominent the crisp air of Northern Wisconsin.

Bill Bryson learns of the awaiting challenges the trail has before having even set foot on it, but he is determined to make the most of the Appalachian Trail. He excuses what others believe to be a hopeless trek and instead embraces this opportunity to finally enjoy the outdoors. After living abroad for close to a quarter decade, Bryson feels the need to “reacquaint [himself] with the scale and beauty” (2) of nature. By setting out on a positive note, he readies himself for what is ahead, because he knows that whatever he encounters may be far from his expectations. Even so, he prevents the things that stand in his way from impacting his decisions, facing his problems head on.

I was in the locker room with my teammates Tim Howard, Jermaine Jones, and Shkëlzen Gashi.

I was bored. The car ride was long. I thought the trip to my grandpa's boat lake Michigan would be short, but I was wrong. We hit every red light and I was losing my patience. We finally get there, the weather is bad, it’s raining, I had a sniffle, and we catch nothing. “Patience” grandpa said. A few weeks later we go out again, still nothing, but at least it wasn’t raining that day. I’d never fished before so when my hook caught pieces of seaweed I thought it was a fish. My grandpa reminded me that you must be patient. Then I reminded him that he “guaranteed” me that I would catch a fish by the end of the summer. I told him that we would catch fish if we went out into the lake instead of just fishing off of the back of this boat on the

You boundless excitement and willingness fuel every step as you climb. Nature surrounds and fills your senses. The endless green from trees and fields flow together as if it were a vase ocean. The effervescent smell of cedar and pine flow in waves over you, unfortunate for those allergic to it but revitalizing for everyone else. After escaping the sea of trees at lower altitudes, you reach a place that can only be described as cliff side meddows. They are lush and vibrant even in winter. The flowers that call the fields home are sweet and bountiful, and as you walk a little farther you step into a cloud. This is a rare instance, one that many people have dreamt about, yet the fabled thought of clouds being soft and fluffy is meer myth. They drench you in a permeating mist that shoots straight to the bone. The cold sets in and you question whether this trip was worth it, you check your map and realize that you’ve barely hit 7,000 feet elevation. Trundle on if you want, but you mind tells you to return to your warm and cozy

My fast run transitions to a walk as I begin to cool down. Although my heart is still pounding, I feel more relaxed than I have in years. My mind seems so clear despite not knowing what I experienced today. Whether a miracle, an act of magic, or a spiritual experience, I will never know. Maybe just getting away from the stresses of everyday life and appreciating the beauty of nature helped release tension and stress. Whatever the case, Walnut Creek Recreation Area changed my life and my view on life moving forward. I may never again experience what I experienced today, but I will definitely be back again.

One cold, dreadful winter day in November, the wind was biting at our faces, high in the Ouachita mountains at Ash Creek deer camp, I would have to face my most dreaded fear. I would be faced with losing the person that means the uttermost to me.