Personal Narrative: Hiking The Horse Trail

One summer my parents informed my brother Ben and I we were going on a trip to Yellowstone National Park. I had never been so excited for anything in my life. I had a passion and love for nature, and being that Yellowstone had some of the most beautiful and interesting geological features on Earth, I knew I would have a blast. They said we would be going in a few weeks, and I literally couldn’t wait. I kept asking questions upon questions, and finally, my dad just got annoyed. “Go research it, Juliette.” He said. “The internet will know more than I do.” I took his advice and went to research Yellowstone.

Have you ever been in a situation where you didn’t think you could do it? Well I have many times and I’m going to write about a time during Rodeo when I didn’t think I was going to be able to do well in goat tying.

Riding along the Oregon Trail can be treacherous, risky, and at times perilous. Some aspects that make it so dangerous are: hunger, disease, suicide, a broken wagon, falling out of the wagon and getting run over by the wheels, Indians attacking, and … storms. Believe it or not , storms cause substantial amounts of trouble. I am fortunate enough to say, I, Dahlia Clark, lived to tell about it.

After an eight hour drive we finally made it to Yosemite National Park. We were minutes away from starting our camping adventure and none of us could hold in our excitement. As we pulled into the parking lot we instantly noticed that the whole place was completely abandoned. We were puzzled as to why the park was closed. Annabelle was the first one to break the silence. She turned to Wyatt and said, “there is no way in hell that I’m leaving this place without going camping.” The furious look on her face made us realize that she would be impossible to reason with. Wyatt tried explaining to her that it might not be safe to camp at a deserted park but she grabbed her backpack and marched over to the fence. She promptly threw her gear over the fence

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.

Crammed in a 1992 Ford truck that is supposed to seat three people, my brother, sister, dad, and I surprisingly arrived at my dad’s favorite park; it just happened to be over an hour away. This mini trek felt as if it lasted for hours. At first, I dreaded piling up to listen to my family complain about having each others’ elbows touching for more time than I would have liked. I soon discovered the uncomfortable ride would be worth it. Once we reached the winding road where we significantly decreased our speed from the highway, my siblings and I grew with excitement to finally be able to stretch our legs and go hiking. We unloaded the truck to spend a couple hours at what we called Great Falls Park.

We setout with our nalgines full of watter and we thought that we would not even use halph, But we undermested the heat and the terain of the trail. At first it was nice and shadie walk through nature. There where lots of trees and felids of crops surrounding us, and I loved it. We where all happy untill we had to climb a 200 foot h, and to make things even worst the clouds have moved and now the sun is bakeing. When we made it to the top, we where all

When I was twelve years old, I learned that horses do not like me. My friend Molly and I went to Camp Ernst the summer before seventh grade during Christmas in July week. We didn’t know anyone else there, so we got stuck in a cabin with a bunch of snobby Milford girls. Molly really wanted to do the horse camp, so I did it too because I didn’t want to be alone with the other girls. I wasn’t really into horses but Molly was so I decided to take one for the team.

We finally reached our destination which felt like hiking the Appalachian Trail. We took a deep breath and scrabbled straight towards the bread aisle. Unfortunately, they ran out of Sunbeam bread, so we were forced to get the bread that made my organs to come out. Whole wheat bread!

On the horizon, the sun formed a P when its edge appeared to touch the top portion of the barn’s lightning rod. Beside the tack shed, there were tractor tracks, wagon tracks, footprints, paw prints, and at the barn’s right rear corner a rat left droppings in the snow.

I have been riding horses for years, ever since I was in second grade. I went to a camp and did a few lessons that year, and loved it a lot. However, I didn’t start doing lessons consistently until the summer after fourth grade. I began taking semi private lessons, either by myself or with another student, and graduated out of that after about a month and a half--apparently I was one of only a few people to have graduated out of that so fast. I moved up into group lessons and began to quickly excel. A few months after I started to fall behind again, and I entered a period where I didn’t really become any better. However, the year after I broke my hand only three months into my school year lessons and had to stop riding for six months. When I came back, it was almost like a fresh start, and I began to progress again.

When we pulled up to the booth at the entrance, we were handed a map of Yellowstone a flyer that says not to get to close to the animals and a magazine article about Yellowstone, one of the cool things about Yellowstone is that the main roads make a figure eight. When we finally got to the hotel it was nine o’clock at night and we all fell

It was a sunny Colorado morning. My dad and I were taking our annual hut trip; however, we had better planning because this was our third trip. We began the morning like any other day; we got up, gathered our gear and rushed out the door, excited to start the day. As we were driving up the twisting roads in the mountains, we made a quick side stop to get some breakfast. “Do you think this will be an easy hike?” I looked at him with inquiring eyes. “This is the biggest climb we’ve done, but we know what to do this time around,” my dad said, never taking his eyes off the road.

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

"Okay, I am sorry this is just really scary." Wilson replied. After about ten more minutes our counselor was getting worried also. She said no one has ever been lost before. Just what we wanted to hear. We got the bright idea to check the map, and see where the lake was. That was after an hour and a half in the rain. We figured it out and found the lake. We then saw that camp was all the way across from the lake. Which does not seem like a far walk, but keep in kind the was 1,000 acres we are talking about. We then started walking toward camp finally.