Personal Narrative: Riding Along The Oregon Trail

Weather was not good on the trails thunderstorms caused big damage to travelers and were uncontrollable. In the essay “Hard times on the Oregon Trail” the author says “Great thunderstorms took their toll on travelers.” (Journey along). Emigrants on the Oregon trail would not have a good time while on the trail while there was a thunderstorm, these thunderstorms caused their OX’s to be scared, and they would make rivers stir up and make them unable to get through. The emigrants did not have anything to stop or protect them from these storms they had to go through with them. Emigrants on the Oregon trail did not have an easy way to stay safe as said, “Half a dozen people were killed by lightning strikes and many others were injured by hail the size of apples.” (Journey along). This harsh weather the emigrants had to deal with was deadly the emigrants had no protection from the lightning and hail the size of

My names Linn and i’m 24 years old, this morning my husband gave me some horrible and good news. The bad news is that our family is going on the Oregon trail and that means we're leaving Illinois, where I grew up my whole life and our family dog, but the good news he said about going on the Oregon trail is that when we get to our destination we're gonna have a lot more farm land. Today we're gonna try and find a wagon. We went to our friends house to see if the have a wagon we can use and it happens that the do it's a Prairie Schooner and they gave it to us for a lower price than what they wanted it for. We hooked our horse up to the wagon and we were on our way back home. When we got home, we automatically started to pack. My husband James, who is 25 years old

Wrongberight, Virginia is a rural farming community, and its residents depend on accurate weather reports. The locals believe, those profession meteorologists could not predict rain, even if raindrops were falling on their head. On Thursday the local weather guru of Wrongberight, Charlie Jones, age eleven forecast a ten-hour deluge would hit on Friday. It did. In fact it dumps eight addition inches of rain, to the already, saturated farmer’s fields and woodlands from the previous intermittent rainstorm that he also predicted. According to him, that storm on Friday was just a prelude to another storm that will strike Wrongberight, sometime early Saturday night. He also said, that this kind of storm would produce, at least one or two unique

I was walking in the woods with the others in our search party. I’m Zach. My nickname is Echo. I’m with two other people: Jack and Ryder. We are looking for eight people who mysteriously went missing at a lot of different times this month. We have been walking for the past hour and a half. We stopped for a break and saw a weird reflection.

Yellowstone is a vast  place and there is when I discovered what I wanted to be in life. When I was six my family and I went on a trip to Yellowstone. It was a long trip for a six year old in a car but it was worth the wait because it was one of the best couple days of my life. During these great days I saw great feats of nature and

My Trip to Oregon is one of the best memories of my life, the beaches, the rain, the gelato and the wind turbines. I saw a huge wind farm with like a hundred turbines. They were white, tall and totally notiable, me being from SD I really haven’t seen that many wind turbines in my life, it was fascinating. They were so awesome to see,on way to my cousins house it got me thinkin what would happen if we ran out of fossil fuels good thing we would have an endless supply of wind to harness power from, right!

The blazing sun was just breaking over the horizon on this particular July day between my freshman and sophomore year. It bathed me in golden rays that warmed my skin. Despite this, a chill dripped down my spine, and my heart jittered about in my chest as my mom drove me toward the unknown and uncertain future. I was about to embark on a treacherous journey: a backpacking trip through the Colorado mountains. The car hurdled over the wandering asphalt until I arrived in a parking lot where an ominous white van waited to carry me toward my destiny.

The morning sun was piercing through the trees lighting up the woods. Seemingly bringing life to the forest. The harmonious chirping of birds and the gentle flow of the creek behind me was the only sound. I sat with my dad elevated 20 feet in the air. The tree stands cold steel covered in camo wrapped around us, making us one with the woods. My fingerless gloves held tight to my 6 mm rifle. My dad sitting to my right wearing mostly camo and that orange hat that he always wears with flaps that cover his ears. I looked over the area with the feeling that we would be waiting here for an eternity.

10 members of 3 CDSG Signal Squadron have recently returned from completing the West Coast Trail, on Vancouver Island, BC as part of the Squadron Adventure Training which ran from 29 April to 09 May 2017. Arriving in Victoria from Dets scattered from Shilo, MB to Chilliwack, BC, the team had one day to gather last minute supplies, and distribute shared items to spread the weight.

She looked out of her bedroom window at the aggressive cloud covered sky. The clouds had shifted from a dingy gray to an impossible black, and it reflected her mood perfectly. She saw the long wild silver streak of lightning light up the darkened sky, heard the loud boisterous boom of angry thunder, and it complimented the raging storm inside her.

Thump, thump, thump. I could hear the helicopters grow near. The sound of the steel blades slicing through the air could be heard throughout the valley. Theories of the helicopters objective raced through my mind, each one dismissed hastily. Private tour, no that only requires one chopper, lost hiker, no they wouldn’t be traveling so close together, military drill seemed improbable, no escaped prisoners or runaway fugitives had appeared on my modified police radio/Sat-Phone.

“Heavens,” he breathed, stumbling for his rifle. Dread washed over him with a measure of surprising calm. He had to be “calm” he reminded himself as he kept his eyes fixed on the rather

Back then in May of 2008, most days at work, I spent my time outside hiking and walking ten to twenty miles a day, under pleasant, clear skies and sun in the fresh Rocky Mountain air, where you can breathe deep and be refreshed. On May twenty-second around 11:00 A.M, I was outside and ten miles from home, enjoying the ever changing weather of northern Colorado. The day started out clear, but grew increasingly cloudy and windy—not at all unusual for spring in the Rockies. East in the distance, thunder drew my attention to the dark, ominous clouds traveling northwest, bellowing up into the sky as lightning danced in, through, around, and from cloud to cloud, indicative of thunder and hail storms; I was thankful the looming and foreboding storm was there and not over me. Unaware I was seeing the birth and growth of as many as seven tornados, forming a devastating wedge, ranging in width from one half to three-quarters of a mile wide; a monster with winds in excess 165 miles per hour, moving toward and that would soon hit my home town of Windsor, just before noon; I was oblivious to the peril and confusion my family and friends would soon be facing from this encroaching demon.

It was just another ordinary day of 5th grade. It was cloudy outside, and we had heard about the severe weather that might come on the news. We just shooed the precautions away and forgot about it. That is, until it started storming. Bad idea. I was at my before school program, JCPRD. I sat with Anna, my best friend, peering out of the large, blue-tinted windows at the enraged clouds outside. They gushed rain and radiated lightning, illuminating our nervous faces. We were starting to get concerned. The distant, eerie roars of thunder filled our ears as the sheets of rain spilled from the roof and lashed the building. This seemed bad, but the situation only grew worse. My heart started to thud faster and louder as I walked to my classroom. The winds were whooshing louder and louder, and the thunder was growing more and more rapid.

Moments later, everything went silent and still. The birds are no longer singing their joyful song. The lake became wave less and serene. I could feel the pressure of the atmosphere weighing down on me like a heavy burden. This is what is called the calm before the storm. Like a whisper the wind gently blew across my face and rustled my hair filling it with static electricity. Then the wind started its fury-the hot blowing sand stung as it hit my skin. It burned my eyes and filled my nose. I could taste the grit in my mouth. The trees bent over without mercy and whiplashed back the other way. The lake turned a dark electric green and the waves rolled violently with caps of white. And not too far off in the distance, cells of rain kicked up the dust and made steam rise as the speeding rain reached the parched ground. The sky grew black as the imposing clouds illuminated a glowing white. They were filled with flashes of light that danced erratically