Personal Narrative: The Refugee Trail

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Saturday morning, awake at 5:30. Packed bag ready to go. Elevation: 1,207. I’ve been waiting for this trip with my scouting group for over a month now, planning meals, setting up tenting arrangements, and gathering supplies. San Jacinto peak, one of four Saint mountains in California with an elevation of over 10,000 feet. I arrive at the camp ranger station listening to the long and required safety lecture: stay on the trail, watch out for endemic wildlife, leave no trace, etc… As my foot hit the trail, the sound of gravel, dirt, and rocks fills my ears. The sun beating on my neck. The weight of my backpack dragging me slower and slower along the trail. Stopping every five minutes drenching myself in the little amount of water we brought.…show more content…
“Only around the corner,” they replied. Lies. They probably just wanted to finish their own hike so that they sit in their comfortable bed, eating a juicy burger with fries and a milkshake. Oh how I could die for a meal, I thought to myself as I continue down the never ending path of rocks and snow. Slowly crawling inch by inch in my dad’s hand-me-down boots that were struggling to stay together, we finally arrive and I was literally able to lift some weight off my shoulders. Granite stone, climbable rocks, white powdery patches, chirps in the trees, all conducive to the true beauty of the great outdoors. Pain is only temporary. I repeat this to myself, but we still have to reach the top in the…show more content…
The temperature dropped, and the wind was shoving me right off the trail. Hands and feet on the rocks ascending to what seemed to be a 60 degree angle. Sunday afternoon, exhausted at 1:00. Empty water bottle and half eaten bag of trail mix. Elevation 10,873ft. I look up, no more road. Nowhere to go. For the first time, I was done. I didn’t give up. I was forced to stop; forced to turn around and descend back down the mountain. But I took a moment. Living in a generation where patience is a thing of the past, we don’t understand the little moments that make every minute worth living for. 360 degree view, half filled with a sea of white, the other, a clear straight view of the desert, the city, the adventure. I did it. I completed my goal to reach the peak of the mountain and I never gave up. After pushing myself to continue onward, I realized that I give myself less credit than what I can actually achieve and I am
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