Okay, this year was rather strange. For once I had a million stories that I wanted to write. Like how I discovered that while I want to write some fiction, I enjoy writing non fiction even more or the amazing time I had with the nieces and nephews during thanksgiving. Maybe I'll write my first memories of holding all the little ones next year. This year I have something that will make you all groan. You guessed it, I am writing about Jujitsu.
There is noise everywhere. Children screaming in the halls, fast food workers yelling out orders, and a dance competition in the ballroom. Who could focus? Wait, who am I kidding. It is a Wednesday night during summer term at BYU. Yeah there are a few kids but most of them are at Harry Potter with their grad student parents. The sun isn't even low enough in the sky to glare in my eyes from the window. It might as well be high noon. Here I am, all alone on the Wilkinson Center Terrace an hour early for a club I joined on a lark. I mean, come on, who can imagine me doing martial arts, especially Jujitsu. For crying out loud, the first time I ever even heard of this martial art was when I watched the Matrix with mom. Yeah, it sounded cool but that was years ago. It does not explain why I am sitting here, cross legged on hard, stone like carpet, at 6:00 PM. Maybe I got the wrong room? Maybe they aren't meeting tonight. My heart is beating a mile a minute and then...oh boy, here comes the instructor. It is only 6:30, I wasn't worried. Just because I stretched so much that I am pretty sure that I won't be able to move some of my body parts tomorrow...no worries. Oh, and here comes Glenn. Whew. He seems like a nice guy and he did invite me to come to the club. Ben tries to take credit for it but come on, he invites a new girl every day. When you realize that you and a guy both love rooster teeth's red vs blue it is an automatic friends for life situation. And there comes Ben and YES! There is another girl! Crap, she has a black belt, whew it is in a different martial art. Then the man that I will forever refer to as either sensei or master comes in the room. I bow in respect at his instruction and he explains the rules of the dojo, the rules of combat and hands me my study packets. He shows me the tools that I will be using and explains to me the origins of this art. All the while everyone is standing around doing some sort of stretch. I learn that when Sensei Paul speaks and does not specify to whom, everyone listens. I learn the reasons for bowing and then we all bow in properly...after I pay my club dues and submit my paperwork that makes me an official member of the AJA. (American Jujitsu Association...next year I am going to submit a five year membership)
My sensei is now teaching me the basic white belt blocks. I have to earn that belt, which seems fair enough. I spend the entire time doing punches and blocks and repeating Japanese numbers. I will be tested next week. At the end of the two hours I bow to my sensei, feeling muscles I hoped to never actually feel. I will not be able to move tomorrow but that doesn't matter. I am starting a life long journey of self improvement that will not only help me gain strength but heal as well (thank you bad shoulder)
The sun is warm, just bordering on hot. The fencing club is setting up their area as I carry a mat that feels like it weighs twice as much as I do down the runway at Helaman Field. After I place the mat I see my sensei drive his truck to our spot. He says he wanted to see how strong I had become, I want to say something else but he has 45 years of experience and I really don't want to get punched. Haha, he would never do that, he treats me like a niece. We set up our tent with all the club information and Kate gives me an extra pair of her socks since the mats are already burning. The guys go to their blue mats and start showing off the complicated moves to some excited freshmen. Kate and I practice our break falls. We are talking with each other and my sensei abruptly asks "Have you tested for your white belt yet?" I shake my head no, thinking nothing of it. I am no where near ready. Then my heart starts to sprint in my chest. "Let's test you today when we have some down time." Right, I cannot breath. My sensei smiles, "Hey, we have some down time now. Let's get started." My heart stops. It is official, I am now dead. First the standing break falls. Right, I have never, EVER, done a standing break fall. Hmmm, adrenaline really does dull pain because I am pretty sure that my back was not supposed to bend like that but whatever, I can get a massage later. Now time to recite the rules of the dojo, the history of Jujitsu, my sensei's sensei's sensei, and the Japanese numbers. Punches, throws, break falls...when did I learn these things? At the end my sensei bows to me and signs the paperwork that says I am passed my eighth kyu. The rest of the day is spend sparring with my friends. The sun is high and I hug them before I go to work. Sadly, it is almost 6 months later and I do not yet have a colored belt but that doesn't matter. I am improving despite my bad arm and I am learning so much. After two straight months of physical therapy and two months in a sling I will be able to practice the throws. My sensei might let me test out for my birthday.
For the first time I understand the mystique of the samurai. I understand the quest for perfection and the joy in strain and for the first time I realize how truly spiritual exercise can be. This isn't just a fighting style, it is a whole new way of life and if it can keep me sane during finals...well that is enough said.
Showing posts with label Whitney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Whitney. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Graduation Speech
Ah the sentimental times
Graduation Speech
This graduation marks an ending and a beginning in all of our lives. High school has helped us to prepare for this next phase in our life where we as independent individuals can continue to make a difference in this world. As Sir Winston Churchill once said, “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps, the end of the beginning.” This is it, the jumping off point at which we move on to bigger and greater things. Though we are moving on, we must always remember, remember the people who helped us to get to where we are today, remember those who laughed and cried with us and especially those whom we loved. We have been prepared in our beginning years and now we’re ready to move on into our future.
I believe our teachers and leaders here at Heritage High School have prepared us well for this next phase in our lives. I would like to take this time to thank some very important people in my life and I am sure in your lives as well. Thank you Mr. Smith for working your classes so hard these past years; after your class college social science will be nothing to worry about. Something to know about Mr. Smith is that he really believes in getting his students involved in the world. One of his student’s frequent assignments was to write letters to our elected officials to make our voices heard. He made us realize that we too have a voice that can change the world. I would also like to thank Mrs. Pedrotti for helping my fellow classmates and I be better prepared for the future by teaching us to work hard. She is not one who holds back criticism and correction and I believe her criticism has helped us learn and better ourselves. I thank you Mrs. Alexander and Mrs. Trusdell for supporting us as students and providing us with an environment in which we could learn and interact with other students, you have made a great impression on us. All of us have had our lives touched by the faculty and staff. We have learned some of life’s greatest lessons here at Heritage. We have learned that we can and will always improve ourselves and our community. We learned that we as people and young adults can really difference in our world and now it’s our turn and our time to go out and actually make that difference. Thank you teachers and staff from all of us.
Congratulations class of 2008 we’ve made it.
Congratulations everyone, those of you who didn’t have to suffer through my graduation just got to experience the shortest part, my speech. Now, what would possess me, a person who despised high school and tried on numerous occasions to get out early, to write such a thing? Simple, they made me.
I like most people in my graduating class had the option of graduating early and I was ready to take it and go to college. However, those of you who attended my graduation know that I did not take that option. You see I was a TA in the library for two years and this being the case I was rather close to the librarians. Well, as I was filing books the librarian came up to me with a smile on her face and told me something that shouldn’t have been shocking but was anyway. I had the second highest GPA in the entire school. I didn’t think about this seeing as my main goal was to get into BYU, not speak at a graduation which didn’t matter to me anyway (thank you to those who came by the way). It did cross my mind that I would be the first person to speak at a high school graduation since dad but once again, I really didn’t care.
I feel like I should mention the effort I took in getting into BYU (I got accepted to all three…hmm, that wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be to say since I am in a room full of geniuses) but I have to have something to write next year. Anyway, come April I get called into the principals office and while I was trying to breath shallowly so as not to inhale the reek of cigarette smoke that was pouring off of my principal in intoxicating droves the guy everyone knew that was going to be valedictorian walked in. That was when it occurred to me. Even though I had senioritis to the extent where I just didn’t care if I got a B+ in my AP classes I must have still been in the running to speak at graduation. This is what my thought process was like. Wow, I go to a school of idiots…does this mean I have to pretend to like the people that have made my life miserable…does this mean that I have to care that they tried to make my life miserable…miserable is a funny word…is it bad if I sound stoned to my self…is it bad that I know how stoned people sound… and it went on. That was when my principal told us what a great honor we were receiving and how proud he was etc. Then we were given the packet. I read three pages on my way back to economics before I started to laugh. I was not allowed to mention college, trade schools, passing tests, specific teachers (a rule which I broke because I had a teacher who everyone hated which I absolutely loved, the collective cringe I heard from my fellow students was very amusing) etc.
Personally I was more concerned about passing the AP tests but the week before the test I realized that I had to turn my finalized speech in for review to make sure I didn’t say anything offensive. Three hours and some editing later I turned in the speech written above. I was proud that my laziness exhibited during my senior year didn’t affect my grades too badly and there were some people that I was going to miss but my speech was just filler. Honestly there were no words that could describe how happy I was to never have to see those people ever again.
Fast forward to graduation…my speech was short, the valedictorian’s speech was long and very self congratulatory but amusing (for the first few minutes anyway, don’t think I am being mean but the guy was really into himself…I should know, he asked me to keep mine short so he had more time to talk…we weren’t timed.) They didn’t let us practice with the echo so everyone either thought I had a speech impediment or was emotional and actually cared about the people who I was speaking to. Then it was time to go home. The best part of graduation was my family being there. I still have the flowers Amy gave me in one of those boxes in the attic. Anyway this story should have been way shorter and I am sorry to make whoever reads this to suffer through my speech which I gracefully summarized in the process of reading aloud. Long story short…the End.
Graduation Speech
This graduation marks an ending and a beginning in all of our lives. High school has helped us to prepare for this next phase in our life where we as independent individuals can continue to make a difference in this world. As Sir Winston Churchill once said, “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps, the end of the beginning.” This is it, the jumping off point at which we move on to bigger and greater things. Though we are moving on, we must always remember, remember the people who helped us to get to where we are today, remember those who laughed and cried with us and especially those whom we loved. We have been prepared in our beginning years and now we’re ready to move on into our future.
I believe our teachers and leaders here at Heritage High School have prepared us well for this next phase in our lives. I would like to take this time to thank some very important people in my life and I am sure in your lives as well. Thank you Mr. Smith for working your classes so hard these past years; after your class college social science will be nothing to worry about. Something to know about Mr. Smith is that he really believes in getting his students involved in the world. One of his student’s frequent assignments was to write letters to our elected officials to make our voices heard. He made us realize that we too have a voice that can change the world. I would also like to thank Mrs. Pedrotti for helping my fellow classmates and I be better prepared for the future by teaching us to work hard. She is not one who holds back criticism and correction and I believe her criticism has helped us learn and better ourselves. I thank you Mrs. Alexander and Mrs. Trusdell for supporting us as students and providing us with an environment in which we could learn and interact with other students, you have made a great impression on us. All of us have had our lives touched by the faculty and staff. We have learned some of life’s greatest lessons here at Heritage. We have learned that we can and will always improve ourselves and our community. We learned that we as people and young adults can really difference in our world and now it’s our turn and our time to go out and actually make that difference. Thank you teachers and staff from all of us.
Congratulations class of 2008 we’ve made it.
Congratulations everyone, those of you who didn’t have to suffer through my graduation just got to experience the shortest part, my speech. Now, what would possess me, a person who despised high school and tried on numerous occasions to get out early, to write such a thing? Simple, they made me.
I like most people in my graduating class had the option of graduating early and I was ready to take it and go to college. However, those of you who attended my graduation know that I did not take that option. You see I was a TA in the library for two years and this being the case I was rather close to the librarians. Well, as I was filing books the librarian came up to me with a smile on her face and told me something that shouldn’t have been shocking but was anyway. I had the second highest GPA in the entire school. I didn’t think about this seeing as my main goal was to get into BYU, not speak at a graduation which didn’t matter to me anyway (thank you to those who came by the way). It did cross my mind that I would be the first person to speak at a high school graduation since dad but once again, I really didn’t care.
I feel like I should mention the effort I took in getting into BYU (I got accepted to all three…hmm, that wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be to say since I am in a room full of geniuses) but I have to have something to write next year. Anyway, come April I get called into the principals office and while I was trying to breath shallowly so as not to inhale the reek of cigarette smoke that was pouring off of my principal in intoxicating droves the guy everyone knew that was going to be valedictorian walked in. That was when it occurred to me. Even though I had senioritis to the extent where I just didn’t care if I got a B+ in my AP classes I must have still been in the running to speak at graduation. This is what my thought process was like. Wow, I go to a school of idiots…does this mean I have to pretend to like the people that have made my life miserable…does this mean that I have to care that they tried to make my life miserable…miserable is a funny word…is it bad if I sound stoned to my self…is it bad that I know how stoned people sound… and it went on. That was when my principal told us what a great honor we were receiving and how proud he was etc. Then we were given the packet. I read three pages on my way back to economics before I started to laugh. I was not allowed to mention college, trade schools, passing tests, specific teachers (a rule which I broke because I had a teacher who everyone hated which I absolutely loved, the collective cringe I heard from my fellow students was very amusing) etc.
Personally I was more concerned about passing the AP tests but the week before the test I realized that I had to turn my finalized speech in for review to make sure I didn’t say anything offensive. Three hours and some editing later I turned in the speech written above. I was proud that my laziness exhibited during my senior year didn’t affect my grades too badly and there were some people that I was going to miss but my speech was just filler. Honestly there were no words that could describe how happy I was to never have to see those people ever again.
Fast forward to graduation…my speech was short, the valedictorian’s speech was long and very self congratulatory but amusing (for the first few minutes anyway, don’t think I am being mean but the guy was really into himself…I should know, he asked me to keep mine short so he had more time to talk…we weren’t timed.) They didn’t let us practice with the echo so everyone either thought I had a speech impediment or was emotional and actually cared about the people who I was speaking to. Then it was time to go home. The best part of graduation was my family being there. I still have the flowers Amy gave me in one of those boxes in the attic. Anyway this story should have been way shorter and I am sorry to make whoever reads this to suffer through my speech which I gracefully summarized in the process of reading aloud. Long story short…the End.
The Test
The Test
Five hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in star sets or places you see? How about…study hours? In May of two thousand and four, one hundred students were gathered to receive their study assignments for the Advanced Placement European history and World History class. Some students began to study immediately. Not only was there an essay due on the first day of the next school year, but there would also be a test. However, this is not the test that this story is about. Like any other A.P. hopeful, I went home that day and opened the book in preparation to read what was contained in those amazing pages. In between reading about Paleolithic Societies and the Agricultural revolution I found my face buried in the book with the pages being stained with drool. Finally, towards the end of the summer, I panicked. If I couldn’t handle this, how was I supposed to handle the AP test at the end of the year? I had over ten chapters to read and an essay to write and it was only two weeks before school started. So, I delved into my study packet and only read what we would be tested on. To this day I don’t know more than three of the roman emperors, and two of them are called Caesar. Anyway, when I came back from Texas I realized that I had no clue what my essay even was about. Well, I found out and wrote it in two days. I took the test and I was just one below setting the curve. Then the real work began.
Out of the one hundred students who had signed up, only twenty of us stuck with it throughout the year. The essay that was due on the first day was only the first of over thirty five essays. Every Monday I would go into class and take a test on the chapters that we were supposed to have read over the past week. Every three weeks we would have a seventy question test and every single vacation we had large projects. During the entire year my teacher kept drilling into us how hard the test would be. The week before the test, after a years worth of hard work…well, we all wanted to pretty much die. Students were comparing study hours and I stayed out of that. I didn’t want to talk about the difficult time I had spent studying. Nobody would want to hear about how I worked and I slaved over the book. That was the hardest half hour I had ever spent studying. After that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Then and there I decided that the hard work and notes that I had taken all year had to be enough.
The day of the test we were waiting in the career center for the last of us to arrive so that we could go take the test. Well, she had forgotten so we waited all of lunch for her to show up.
Fast forward to the testing room…The packet was on my desk and my pencil was ready. There was no moisture in my mouth. The proctor signaled for us to begin and I opened the test. I laughed when I saw the fist question. I said my prayers at least fifteen times during the multiple choice section; it was a very spiritual experience. I began to think that I should have studied for more than an hour the night before. Just kidding, I was actually very prepared and I got through the multiple choice section without too much difficulty. By law we weren’t supposed to talk about the test for 48 hours after…my class didn’t last forty eight seconds.
Part two was the essays. Although you may not find it funny, I certainly did being there. When the booklets were opened every single student except for me muttered an expletive after seeing the essay topics. It didn’t worry me. In fact, I actually chose one of the hardest ones to write on. Nobody in their right mind would choose that one but I believe that essay was the reason I passed. As I said before, I knew nothing about Rome and what I did know was during the incorrect time period. So, for my final essay I chose to write about the change over time in India between 300 and 600 AD. Sadly, I did not know any changes, only continuities. Since I was already two paragraphs into the paper I decided to talk about what was going on in China at the time while saying that it happened in India. The joke was on me however when I discovered that all of the information that I had written was actually correct.
Fast forward to June…the AP scores came. I was terrified. I wrote an essay on India for crying out loud. I didn’t want to open it, but I didn’t want anybody else to open them to either. Anyway, long story short, I opened the scores and held my breath. Mom thought that I had gotten horrible scores because I sounded like I was crying. Well, I was almost crying, but not because the scores were bad. I was laughing like mom in a movie theater. I was almost screaming. I had gotten not a three like I had expected, but a five on the test. Just pause for a minute…the tests are such that if you fill one in and get it wrong, you are penalized 1.25 points.
Five hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in star sets or places you see? How about…study hours? In May of two thousand and four, one hundred students were gathered to receive their study assignments for the Advanced Placement European history and World History class. Some students began to study immediately. Not only was there an essay due on the first day of the next school year, but there would also be a test. However, this is not the test that this story is about. Like any other A.P. hopeful, I went home that day and opened the book in preparation to read what was contained in those amazing pages. In between reading about Paleolithic Societies and the Agricultural revolution I found my face buried in the book with the pages being stained with drool. Finally, towards the end of the summer, I panicked. If I couldn’t handle this, how was I supposed to handle the AP test at the end of the year? I had over ten chapters to read and an essay to write and it was only two weeks before school started. So, I delved into my study packet and only read what we would be tested on. To this day I don’t know more than three of the roman emperors, and two of them are called Caesar. Anyway, when I came back from Texas I realized that I had no clue what my essay even was about. Well, I found out and wrote it in two days. I took the test and I was just one below setting the curve. Then the real work began.
Out of the one hundred students who had signed up, only twenty of us stuck with it throughout the year. The essay that was due on the first day was only the first of over thirty five essays. Every Monday I would go into class and take a test on the chapters that we were supposed to have read over the past week. Every three weeks we would have a seventy question test and every single vacation we had large projects. During the entire year my teacher kept drilling into us how hard the test would be. The week before the test, after a years worth of hard work…well, we all wanted to pretty much die. Students were comparing study hours and I stayed out of that. I didn’t want to talk about the difficult time I had spent studying. Nobody would want to hear about how I worked and I slaved over the book. That was the hardest half hour I had ever spent studying. After that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Then and there I decided that the hard work and notes that I had taken all year had to be enough.
The day of the test we were waiting in the career center for the last of us to arrive so that we could go take the test. Well, she had forgotten so we waited all of lunch for her to show up.
Fast forward to the testing room…The packet was on my desk and my pencil was ready. There was no moisture in my mouth. The proctor signaled for us to begin and I opened the test. I laughed when I saw the fist question. I said my prayers at least fifteen times during the multiple choice section; it was a very spiritual experience. I began to think that I should have studied for more than an hour the night before. Just kidding, I was actually very prepared and I got through the multiple choice section without too much difficulty. By law we weren’t supposed to talk about the test for 48 hours after…my class didn’t last forty eight seconds.
Part two was the essays. Although you may not find it funny, I certainly did being there. When the booklets were opened every single student except for me muttered an expletive after seeing the essay topics. It didn’t worry me. In fact, I actually chose one of the hardest ones to write on. Nobody in their right mind would choose that one but I believe that essay was the reason I passed. As I said before, I knew nothing about Rome and what I did know was during the incorrect time period. So, for my final essay I chose to write about the change over time in India between 300 and 600 AD. Sadly, I did not know any changes, only continuities. Since I was already two paragraphs into the paper I decided to talk about what was going on in China at the time while saying that it happened in India. The joke was on me however when I discovered that all of the information that I had written was actually correct.
Fast forward to June…the AP scores came. I was terrified. I wrote an essay on India for crying out loud. I didn’t want to open it, but I didn’t want anybody else to open them to either. Anyway, long story short, I opened the scores and held my breath. Mom thought that I had gotten horrible scores because I sounded like I was crying. Well, I was almost crying, but not because the scores were bad. I was laughing like mom in a movie theater. I was almost screaming. I had gotten not a three like I had expected, but a five on the test. Just pause for a minute…the tests are such that if you fill one in and get it wrong, you are penalized 1.25 points.
A Born Swimmer
A Born Swimmer
As you all know, I love to swim. I have always been a strong swimmer even when I was little. The following experiences involve swimming, or the lack there of. See, when I was ten I was so excited because I had gotten a brand new boogie board. I took it to the beach every time I went, which was twice by the time our first story begins.
I had been out in the waves for about an hour when I saw a huge wave come up. Now, I had two choices, ride the wave or wait for a better one. The only problem was that I didn’t have time to do either. The wave was coming fast and before I knew it I was under the water being tossed here and there by the waves. The boogie board was strapped to my ankle and it was following the waves, pulling me under. I didn’t know which way was up and I was running out of air. I wanted to scream and cry but I needed every ounce of air I had. The water, once my friend, was trying to kill me. I was terrified as I fought for the surface, but the problem was, I was going the wrong way and I hit my head on the sand. I immediately switched directions and just as I was about to break through another wave came and my trusted boogie board pulled me under again. My air was running out and by the time the third wave hit I knew that I was going to die. I couldn’t hold my breath for that long and I knew that soon I would have to breathe something in. It was all because of that stupid ankle strap on my new board. If I hadn’t had it strapped in, I wouldn’t have been pulled under. I remember praying to the lord to save me and after my prayer I went completely limp. I guess I floated to the top or something because my next memory was taking in a huge gasp of air. I promptly picked up my board and walked along the shore to mom and dad.
This next story was a few years later. The ankle strap of my boogie board had since been chewed off by one of our dogs and I was much older (probably thirteen or fourteen). I was out in the waves again, my experience of years earlier having not deterred my enthusiasm for being out in the water, and I was resting on my boogie board. I had been out for a while and suddenly I saw a lifeguard coming out into the water. I looked around to see who was drowning because he was on his jet ski. I didn’t see anybody. That was when I noticed that he was coming directly towards me. I was confused, I was completely fine. In a hurried manner he told me to get on the sled with my board. Being very embarrassed I complied. When we were on the shore I found out that I had been caught in a rip tide. After thanking the lifeguard and being scolded by mom (don’t worry, I wasn’t mad mom) I spent an hour playing in the sand before going back into the water, this time with Michael as an escort.
Fast forward a few more years to May after I turned sixteen. It was freezing cold, pouring rain, and I was in a swim suit. I was certifying to be a lifeguard and I was the victim in the scenario. The rain made everything slippery and my shaking wasn’t helping. Several people had already gone home sick and two were being treated for hypothermia. Anyway, back to me. I was on the board pretending to be unconscious from drowning (yes, I get the irony) when I felt myself falling which a few seconds later was followed by my head hitting the board, bouncing off, and hitting it again. Yes, the geniuses had dropped me. I was treated for a head injury and then an hour later I did my scenario and got my license. Sadly, the girl who dropped me got hers too.
Months later I was life guarding below the big slide at the water park when I saw the guy at the top start to panic. I looked around and saw a little girl come out of the slide and hang on to the lane line for dear life. Without thinking I jumped over the bottom of the slide, gave the signal for Chase to stop dispatch and entered the water. Being this lovely day and age I had to ask if she wanted help, otherwise I could do nothing while she was still conscious. Anyway, she nodded and I picked her up. She clung to me for dear life but as soon as she was out on the cement she RAN away. I had to wait for my break to hunt her down and do all the paperwork after having to yell at her for running. For once though, the mom was on my side, I cannot tell you how many times I have been yelled at by parents. It is not fun. Anyway, back on topic. It felt great to save that little girl. It was then I realized why I had become a lifeguard. I loved the water, but I knew it was dangerous. I was there to protect the people like me who just get caught in a bad current. Of course the idiots that infest the park help me to forget and I really don’t know how to transition from that so I will just say, the end, and always listen to the lifeguards.
As you all know, I love to swim. I have always been a strong swimmer even when I was little. The following experiences involve swimming, or the lack there of. See, when I was ten I was so excited because I had gotten a brand new boogie board. I took it to the beach every time I went, which was twice by the time our first story begins.
I had been out in the waves for about an hour when I saw a huge wave come up. Now, I had two choices, ride the wave or wait for a better one. The only problem was that I didn’t have time to do either. The wave was coming fast and before I knew it I was under the water being tossed here and there by the waves. The boogie board was strapped to my ankle and it was following the waves, pulling me under. I didn’t know which way was up and I was running out of air. I wanted to scream and cry but I needed every ounce of air I had. The water, once my friend, was trying to kill me. I was terrified as I fought for the surface, but the problem was, I was going the wrong way and I hit my head on the sand. I immediately switched directions and just as I was about to break through another wave came and my trusted boogie board pulled me under again. My air was running out and by the time the third wave hit I knew that I was going to die. I couldn’t hold my breath for that long and I knew that soon I would have to breathe something in. It was all because of that stupid ankle strap on my new board. If I hadn’t had it strapped in, I wouldn’t have been pulled under. I remember praying to the lord to save me and after my prayer I went completely limp. I guess I floated to the top or something because my next memory was taking in a huge gasp of air. I promptly picked up my board and walked along the shore to mom and dad.
This next story was a few years later. The ankle strap of my boogie board had since been chewed off by one of our dogs and I was much older (probably thirteen or fourteen). I was out in the waves again, my experience of years earlier having not deterred my enthusiasm for being out in the water, and I was resting on my boogie board. I had been out for a while and suddenly I saw a lifeguard coming out into the water. I looked around to see who was drowning because he was on his jet ski. I didn’t see anybody. That was when I noticed that he was coming directly towards me. I was confused, I was completely fine. In a hurried manner he told me to get on the sled with my board. Being very embarrassed I complied. When we were on the shore I found out that I had been caught in a rip tide. After thanking the lifeguard and being scolded by mom (don’t worry, I wasn’t mad mom) I spent an hour playing in the sand before going back into the water, this time with Michael as an escort.
Fast forward a few more years to May after I turned sixteen. It was freezing cold, pouring rain, and I was in a swim suit. I was certifying to be a lifeguard and I was the victim in the scenario. The rain made everything slippery and my shaking wasn’t helping. Several people had already gone home sick and two were being treated for hypothermia. Anyway, back to me. I was on the board pretending to be unconscious from drowning (yes, I get the irony) when I felt myself falling which a few seconds later was followed by my head hitting the board, bouncing off, and hitting it again. Yes, the geniuses had dropped me. I was treated for a head injury and then an hour later I did my scenario and got my license. Sadly, the girl who dropped me got hers too.
Months later I was life guarding below the big slide at the water park when I saw the guy at the top start to panic. I looked around and saw a little girl come out of the slide and hang on to the lane line for dear life. Without thinking I jumped over the bottom of the slide, gave the signal for Chase to stop dispatch and entered the water. Being this lovely day and age I had to ask if she wanted help, otherwise I could do nothing while she was still conscious. Anyway, she nodded and I picked her up. She clung to me for dear life but as soon as she was out on the cement she RAN away. I had to wait for my break to hunt her down and do all the paperwork after having to yell at her for running. For once though, the mom was on my side, I cannot tell you how many times I have been yelled at by parents. It is not fun. Anyway, back on topic. It felt great to save that little girl. It was then I realized why I had become a lifeguard. I loved the water, but I knew it was dangerous. I was there to protect the people like me who just get caught in a bad current. Of course the idiots that infest the park help me to forget and I really don’t know how to transition from that so I will just say, the end, and always listen to the lifeguards.
I didn’t think about what I was working towards.
I didn’t really think about them when I signed up for the swim team in December or even when I officially joined the team in February. My goal was to make it through practice each day. I didn’t think about what I was working towards, all I thought about was earning points for my team so that we could keep our record strong. Two months without any competition made me think of practice as a personal test. The real reason I joined was to test myself, to prove that I could test my limits and reach beyond them. The first time I competed it was only a scrimmage. It was too early on for me to get into the game and I really didn’t get the feel of competition. I hardly even knew my team, how was I supposed to race in the relays if I didn’t even know my teammates strengths and what I needed to do to makeup for lost time. Everything changed over break. After making it through “hell week” I knew who my team was and I knew the feeling of real competition. After that I felt that everything had changed. I had tasted victory and all I wanted to do was swim and break record after record. I kept getting first in all of my heats and I moved up. But it wasn’t until the Dai LaSalle invitational that I really thought about what I was racing towards.
I was searching for my heat and lane in all of my events. My eyes scanned over the 100 yard freestyle and the 100 yard back stroke until I found the 50 yard freestyle. I was in the ninth fastest J.V. girls’ heat. It may not seem that good, but there were thirty heats. It was then when I started to look towards the final swim meet. I thought about it for about two weeks, but then it was back to thinking about next Friday’s swim meet. There was nothing else to it. My life revolved around swimming. Everyday I would go to practice, swim for two and a half hours, get out, go home, and do my homework.
Sometime in May the coaches announced the arrival of the swimming equivalent to dead week. Practice was only an hour long and it was all easy distance. There was very little sprinting and we did a maximum of four thousand yards a day. It was heaven. And to top it off there was a party on Thursday to celebrate the end of the season for most of us. It was known as the shave down where we all got to shear away the hair that had accumulated over the season. The superstition is that not shaving all season will help slow you down so that when it comes to the finals and you don’t have hair you theoretically go faster. My favorite part about the party was the food and the chocolate covered strawberries. But this story isn’t about that party; it’s about the day afterward.
I didn’t go to seminary that day because I would have had to leave early and no one would have given me a ride. I waited in front of the school at six forty five in the morning until seven thirty. Food was being passed from teammate to teammate as our coaches took role. We loaded onto the bus and headed off onto the most nerve wracking day of the season. The race schedules were being passed around and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I was swimming the 50 yard freestyle, the 100 yard freestyle, the 200 yard melee relay and 100 yard back stroke. The swim suit I was wearing seemed more constricting than normal. The straps bit into my shoulders and I found it hard to breath. After a few hours we got off the bus and walked to the Clayton Valley pool. I tried to take my mind off the race as Liberty set up “camp”. I was one of the first to dive into the pool and start the warm up. My movements felt mechanical as I raced to keep up with the others. This warm up was longer than usual; we all knew what was coming. While resting for a short while to stretch I looked at Liberty versus the other teams. Their warm-ups were scattered and irregular. As I watched my team’s synchronized movements and their turn executions the theme of the empire from Star Wars entered my mind. I was swimming for a strong team, but I was swimming for something else too.
The day came and went and I swam in most of my races. They canceled the backstroke so I only had three events. The relay and the 100 yard freestyle were no big deal and I spent most of the day playing cards with my teammates. The race I was the most worried about was the fifty yard freestyle. I would have to give it my all for every inch of the race. My heart jumped into my mouth as I stepped next to the starting block. I ignored my position. I was in one of the fastest heats and this was my first year swimming. I was swimming against girls from Carondalet and Clayton valley. Freedom was nothing to worry about, but there were also girls from YV there. There was only one other girl from Liberty in that heat but I didn’t care. This race was about me and I had to win. The pressure was mounting. The thoughts raced through my mind…You need to do this…you have never been less than second in this race…this is your chance…prove that you can do this…Then they called for the swimmers to mount the blocks and all thoughts stopped. We took our marks and the tension was unbearable. Then a girl fell in and we all had to stand up and get off the blocks. We mounted the blocks a second time and took out marks. I was so tense, my body was rigid and like stone. The buzzer rang out and I sprung off the board. Each stroke was faster than my last and my flip turn was the fastest and strongest that I had ever done. I hardly took the time to breath and the race was over before it began. I could hardly get out of the pool and I felt so weak. The rest of the day went by in a flash. The most vivid part of that day was when my coach came up to me after my last cool down. I was on my way to the changing rooms to get out of my corset like swim suit. She came up to me with a smile on her face.
“Can you believe it Nielsen?” She said. I had no idea what she was talking about. “What Dillman?”
“You made it into the finals just like Scuttle did her first year.” My face dropped. She continued to walk as I ran to see the final scores of that day. I had done it.
Only sixteen swimmers make it into the finals for each event. Eight were in the consolation heat and 8 were in the championship heat. I was at the very bottom of the championship heat. I had made it in. Unfortunately there were some errors in the first copy so my position changed from last to third to last on the correct sheet. I had done it. I was in the BVAL fifty yard freestyle championship heat. It was amazing. I felt slightly light headed and all weariness left me. I ran to my friend Airiseli and she was as excited as I was. I was dazed on the bus ride home. I probably can’t capture my feelings not for lack being able to, but for lack of time considering that tonight is Christmas Eve.
2009 Note: The next year I made it into the Finals for all my events even with my bad shoulder (I injured it that February) and mom and dad came by to bring me lunch. Because they were watching and because it was to be the last race of my swimming career, I beat the previous day’s time by four seconds, coming in first and making it my best race ever.
I was searching for my heat and lane in all of my events. My eyes scanned over the 100 yard freestyle and the 100 yard back stroke until I found the 50 yard freestyle. I was in the ninth fastest J.V. girls’ heat. It may not seem that good, but there were thirty heats. It was then when I started to look towards the final swim meet. I thought about it for about two weeks, but then it was back to thinking about next Friday’s swim meet. There was nothing else to it. My life revolved around swimming. Everyday I would go to practice, swim for two and a half hours, get out, go home, and do my homework.
Sometime in May the coaches announced the arrival of the swimming equivalent to dead week. Practice was only an hour long and it was all easy distance. There was very little sprinting and we did a maximum of four thousand yards a day. It was heaven. And to top it off there was a party on Thursday to celebrate the end of the season for most of us. It was known as the shave down where we all got to shear away the hair that had accumulated over the season. The superstition is that not shaving all season will help slow you down so that when it comes to the finals and you don’t have hair you theoretically go faster. My favorite part about the party was the food and the chocolate covered strawberries. But this story isn’t about that party; it’s about the day afterward.
I didn’t go to seminary that day because I would have had to leave early and no one would have given me a ride. I waited in front of the school at six forty five in the morning until seven thirty. Food was being passed from teammate to teammate as our coaches took role. We loaded onto the bus and headed off onto the most nerve wracking day of the season. The race schedules were being passed around and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I was swimming the 50 yard freestyle, the 100 yard freestyle, the 200 yard melee relay and 100 yard back stroke. The swim suit I was wearing seemed more constricting than normal. The straps bit into my shoulders and I found it hard to breath. After a few hours we got off the bus and walked to the Clayton Valley pool. I tried to take my mind off the race as Liberty set up “camp”. I was one of the first to dive into the pool and start the warm up. My movements felt mechanical as I raced to keep up with the others. This warm up was longer than usual; we all knew what was coming. While resting for a short while to stretch I looked at Liberty versus the other teams. Their warm-ups were scattered and irregular. As I watched my team’s synchronized movements and their turn executions the theme of the empire from Star Wars entered my mind. I was swimming for a strong team, but I was swimming for something else too.
The day came and went and I swam in most of my races. They canceled the backstroke so I only had three events. The relay and the 100 yard freestyle were no big deal and I spent most of the day playing cards with my teammates. The race I was the most worried about was the fifty yard freestyle. I would have to give it my all for every inch of the race. My heart jumped into my mouth as I stepped next to the starting block. I ignored my position. I was in one of the fastest heats and this was my first year swimming. I was swimming against girls from Carondalet and Clayton valley. Freedom was nothing to worry about, but there were also girls from YV there. There was only one other girl from Liberty in that heat but I didn’t care. This race was about me and I had to win. The pressure was mounting. The thoughts raced through my mind…You need to do this…you have never been less than second in this race…this is your chance…prove that you can do this…Then they called for the swimmers to mount the blocks and all thoughts stopped. We took our marks and the tension was unbearable. Then a girl fell in and we all had to stand up and get off the blocks. We mounted the blocks a second time and took out marks. I was so tense, my body was rigid and like stone. The buzzer rang out and I sprung off the board. Each stroke was faster than my last and my flip turn was the fastest and strongest that I had ever done. I hardly took the time to breath and the race was over before it began. I could hardly get out of the pool and I felt so weak. The rest of the day went by in a flash. The most vivid part of that day was when my coach came up to me after my last cool down. I was on my way to the changing rooms to get out of my corset like swim suit. She came up to me with a smile on her face.
“Can you believe it Nielsen?” She said. I had no idea what she was talking about. “What Dillman?”
“You made it into the finals just like Scuttle did her first year.” My face dropped. She continued to walk as I ran to see the final scores of that day. I had done it.
Only sixteen swimmers make it into the finals for each event. Eight were in the consolation heat and 8 were in the championship heat. I was at the very bottom of the championship heat. I had made it in. Unfortunately there were some errors in the first copy so my position changed from last to third to last on the correct sheet. I had done it. I was in the BVAL fifty yard freestyle championship heat. It was amazing. I felt slightly light headed and all weariness left me. I ran to my friend Airiseli and she was as excited as I was. I was dazed on the bus ride home. I probably can’t capture my feelings not for lack being able to, but for lack of time considering that tonight is Christmas Eve.
2009 Note: The next year I made it into the Finals for all my events even with my bad shoulder (I injured it that February) and mom and dad came by to bring me lunch. Because they were watching and because it was to be the last race of my swimming career, I beat the previous day’s time by four seconds, coming in first and making it my best race ever.
Friday, October 22, 2004
The Haunted Hotel
The Haunted Hotel
It was a completely silent night. It was summer, but I was shivering. We were walking through the vineyard, the car long since abandoned. We tried to pretend that we weren’t afraid, as the night grew colder and darker. After an eternity we reached the end. In our path lay a river and I almost cried with relief. We would have to turn back. The leader of our company told us to follow the river, hoping to find a way to cross. My footsteps were mechanical. I was dreading the fate that lay ahead of us. As if things weren’t bad enough, we found a way across. I was the last to penetrate the iron-gate. Then, we found the road. The animals were all watching us, somehow knowing, knowing what we were planning. The trees surrounded us like sentries. As one, my company headed for higher ground. We tore through the
trees, not knowing how many of us we would lose. Finally we made it to the hills, and we were all accounted for. Slowly we walked along, stopping at every sound. At last it was time to once again descend into the trees. Quickly we ran, hopping over barbed wire, avoiding the traps, and then, we saw it. We were all prepared to see our mission to the end, but then I saw them. My companions looked as if they were the undead. Their eyes were sunken in and their skin stretched tightly over their bones. I continued onward. We each fell to the ground silently and stealthily crept up to the abandoned building, gathering photographic evidence along the way.
The building was in ruin, but it seethed evil. We slowly explored every inch, gathering information. The roof had holes, and I almost fell into one of them. There were signs of war and evil painted on the walls. I wanted to leave, to run as fast as I could, but I had a mission, and I was going to see it to the end. We were on the second floor and I heard something move behind me. My companion and I were in the rear, and we both heard it. We looked back into the main hall, there was nothing, but the rocks continued to move. We hurried onward, but one of our companions was missing. We had left her in one of the rooms! Frantically I raced back to find her. Despite all of my training, I was in tears. If we lost her, no, we were not going to lose her. We found her walking along, white with fear. Nothing had prepared us for this, but we continued our search, documenting all that we saw. Finally, we found it, the place where he was killed. I saw the blood on the stones below. We were almost done, only a few more rooms to go. The top floor was in total disrepair. One of us even searched a closet, gathering evidence. At last, after investigating the elevator, we descended to the boiler room. More pictures were taken. The rubble was so thick that we could not enter; we could only observe it from the outside. After much pleading we raced out of that terrible place, after Emily grabbed a tangible item of evidence. We all had something. I had a piece of the wall. We ran for the cover of the trees, silently walking along the road. We had escaped the concentration camp. We had seen the place of many murders, and had proof. We laughed, I cried, and finally we reached the silent highway. The car was a hundred feet to our left. After hopping the cast Iron gate we left the Byron Hot Springs Hotel. The tires of our armored vehicle squealed on the asphalt and we left with the firm knowledge that we would return, but this time we will not only have better protection, we will have the master, our mentor, the first of our company to enter the cursed building, leading the way.
Whitney Julia Alise Nielsen
It was a completely silent night. It was summer, but I was shivering. We were walking through the vineyard, the car long since abandoned. We tried to pretend that we weren’t afraid, as the night grew colder and darker. After an eternity we reached the end. In our path lay a river and I almost cried with relief. We would have to turn back. The leader of our company told us to follow the river, hoping to find a way to cross. My footsteps were mechanical. I was dreading the fate that lay ahead of us. As if things weren’t bad enough, we found a way across. I was the last to penetrate the iron-gate. Then, we found the road. The animals were all watching us, somehow knowing, knowing what we were planning. The trees surrounded us like sentries. As one, my company headed for higher ground. We tore through the
trees, not knowing how many of us we would lose. Finally we made it to the hills, and we were all accounted for. Slowly we walked along, stopping at every sound. At last it was time to once again descend into the trees. Quickly we ran, hopping over barbed wire, avoiding the traps, and then, we saw it. We were all prepared to see our mission to the end, but then I saw them. My companions looked as if they were the undead. Their eyes were sunken in and their skin stretched tightly over their bones. I continued onward. We each fell to the ground silently and stealthily crept up to the abandoned building, gathering photographic evidence along the way. 
The building was in ruin, but it seethed evil. We slowly explored every inch, gathering information. The roof had holes, and I almost fell into one of them. There were signs of war and evil painted on the walls. I wanted to leave, to run as fast as I could, but I had a mission, and I was going to see it to the end. We were on the second floor and I heard something move behind me. My companion and I were in the rear, and we both heard it. We looked back into the main hall, there was nothing, but the rocks continued to move. We hurried onward, but one of our companions was missing. We had left her in one of the rooms! Frantically I raced back to find her. Despite all of my training, I was in tears. If we lost her, no, we were not going to lose her. We found her walking along, white with fear. Nothing had prepared us for this, but we continued our search, documenting all that we saw. Finally, we found it, the place where he was killed. I saw the blood on the stones below. We were almost done, only a few more rooms to go. The top floor was in total disrepair. One of us even searched a closet, gathering evidence. At last, after investigating the elevator, we descended to the boiler room. More pictures were taken. The rubble was so thick that we could not enter; we could only observe it from the outside. After much pleading we raced out of that terrible place, after Emily grabbed a tangible item of evidence. We all had something. I had a piece of the wall. We ran for the cover of the trees, silently walking along the road. We had escaped the concentration camp. We had seen the place of many murders, and had proof. We laughed, I cried, and finally we reached the silent highway. The car was a hundred feet to our left. After hopping the cast Iron gate we left the Byron Hot Springs Hotel. The tires of our armored vehicle squealed on the asphalt and we left with the firm knowledge that we would return, but this time we will not only have better protection, we will have the master, our mentor, the first of our company to enter the cursed building, leading the way.
Whitney Julia Alise Nielsen
Thursday, October 23, 2003
The Sacred Grove
The Sacred Grove
Over the summer I had the opportunity to visit the historic Palmyra, New York,. When I was there I was able to visit the smith homes and the hill Comorah. The best sight that I was able to visit was the sacred grove. I will first start with Wendy’s and my trip. We spent 2 hours searching for the sustenance that would aid us on our 2 hour journey to Palmyra to the hill Comorah Pageant. We were miserably unsuccessful.
After the long and strenuous journey to Palmyra, we found the food that is worth more that food itself! Peas. We bought the farmer out.
Later Wendy thought that she would give me a treat. She took me to the location where the Book of Mormon was originally printed. The old Book of Mormon was so beautiful and the printing press was awesome.
Wendy and I had realized that we needed something to do in the three hours before the pageant, so, she took me to the smith houses. They were beautiful. The were rebuilt to look as they did when the Smiths lived in them. Wendy took me to their cooper shed and their hay barn. Last of all was the sacred grove.
The name The sacred grove absolutely fills the heart with peace. Even hearing it throws my heart into an ecstasy of pure joy. The Sacred grove was my favorite sight. There aren’t words to describe the feeling that came over me. It was as if all the troubles and torments in the world couldn’t reach me, even though I knew that Satan did try to posses Joseph here. God had appeared in this grove, and he had left his mark. Wendy realized that it was time to leave, so I asked here to go ahead of me. When se was out of sight, I kneeled down and prayed. I will not tell you the word that I said in my heart, for I don’t remember them. I only remember the feeling that I had. After I had finished praying, I got up off of the soaking ground, brushed the dew drops off of my sweater, and with tears in my eyes, headed for the car. I will remember that experience until the day I die, and many years afterward. I, like Joseph Smith and probably like many others before me, had kneeled down in prayer to our lord and Savior. I never thought that dream of seeing the sacred grove would happen. I will forever remember that experience, and forever is a long time.
Over the summer I had the opportunity to visit the historic Palmyra, New York,. When I was there I was able to visit the smith homes and the hill Comorah. The best sight that I was able to visit was the sacred grove. I will first start with Wendy’s and my trip. We spent 2 hours searching for the sustenance that would aid us on our 2 hour journey to Palmyra to the hill Comorah Pageant. We were miserably unsuccessful.
After the long and strenuous journey to Palmyra, we found the food that is worth more that food itself! Peas. We bought the farmer out.
Later Wendy thought that she would give me a treat. She took me to the location where the Book of Mormon was originally printed. The old Book of Mormon was so beautiful and the printing press was awesome.
Wendy and I had realized that we needed something to do in the three hours before the pageant, so, she took me to the smith houses. They were beautiful. The were rebuilt to look as they did when the Smiths lived in them. Wendy took me to their cooper shed and their hay barn. Last of all was the sacred grove.
The name The sacred grove absolutely fills the heart with peace. Even hearing it throws my heart into an ecstasy of pure joy. The Sacred grove was my favorite sight. There aren’t words to describe the feeling that came over me. It was as if all the troubles and torments in the world couldn’t reach me, even though I knew that Satan did try to posses Joseph here. God had appeared in this grove, and he had left his mark. Wendy realized that it was time to leave, so I asked here to go ahead of me. When se was out of sight, I kneeled down and prayed. I will not tell you the word that I said in my heart, for I don’t remember them. I only remember the feeling that I had. After I had finished praying, I got up off of the soaking ground, brushed the dew drops off of my sweater, and with tears in my eyes, headed for the car. I will remember that experience until the day I die, and many years afterward. I, like Joseph Smith and probably like many others before me, had kneeled down in prayer to our lord and Savior. I never thought that dream of seeing the sacred grove would happen. I will forever remember that experience, and forever is a long time.
Tuesday, October 23, 2001
My First Backpacking Trip
My First Backpacking Trip
One morning I woke up unusually late (8:00) and I saw Matthew, Joseph, and Emily preparing for a backpacking trip. When they asked me if I wanted to go, I said, “yes!“ When Meghan came downstairs mom taunted her saying, “Even Whitney’s going, Meghan”. So she decided if I could do it she could go too.
When we finally reached the trailhead we discovered that we needed to have a permit. The sun was almost gone behind the mountains by then so we decided to get one the next day and hiked as far as we could before dark. The camping spot we chose was not far from a stream.
Early the next morning Joseph hiked back and drove to get a backpacking permit. After the sun hit the campground, we set off for Thousand Island Lake. The mosquitoes were really bad and bit us even after we put on the repellent. When we got out of the meadow, the sun, was really hot. We rested at each little spot of shade. During that time, Joseph and Matthew were teasing me because I was complaining. I didn't want to admit that I‘d brought shoes that were too small and hurt my feet really bad. It seemed like forever before we caught sight of the lake. Meghan, Emily and I could barely put up the tent because we were so dead tired.
The next morning I almost cried because Matthew and Joseph said that we were going to take ANOTHER hike around the entire large lake. Luckily, Matthew saved me. He said he wanted to find out where the waterfalls on the other side of the lake were coming from. So all of us, including Nevada, started hiking up the Minerettes. Meghan saw how bad the mosquitoes were biting me and loned me her sweater. We came to snow banks and tried to smash them when we crossed the stream. Finally we came to the waterfall and by then we were dying from heat. We each put our heads under the waterfall to cool off before we hiked up to the snow. The reflection from the snow would have sunburned us but I gave everyone my sunscreen. We continued hiking until we found a frozen lake. Emily tried to climb to the peak of one of the Minerettes and Nevada went with her even though they tried to get him rest. They made it about 2/3 of the way to the top. After that we hiked back to camp and took a long rest.
We took lots of pictures because the scenery was spectacular. One place was so beautiful that we all posed there for an individual picture.
That same day after our rest we packed up camp and started back to the car. The place we camped at that night (on our way back) was so green and beautiful and we were by a trickling stream. Matthew told us a great story to end the day by. After we were in our tents we begged Joseph for his Poof Ball and cat face story?
The next morning we got up and we thought the time was around 8 AM. But much to our surprise we arrived back at the car at eight so we determined that we actually got up at 5AM. It was the best backpacking hike I had ever been on (it was my first trip after all). I really appreciate my brothers taking us girls.
Thank you
One morning I woke up unusually late (8:00) and I saw Matthew, Joseph, and Emily preparing for a backpacking trip. When they asked me if I wanted to go, I said, “yes!“ When Meghan came downstairs mom taunted her saying, “Even Whitney’s going, Meghan”. So she decided if I could do it she could go too.
When we finally reached the trailhead we discovered that we needed to have a permit. The sun was almost gone behind the mountains by then so we decided to get one the next day and hiked as far as we could before dark. The camping spot we chose was not far from a stream.
Early the next morning Joseph hiked back and drove to get a backpacking permit. After the sun hit the campground, we set off for Thousand Island Lake. The mosquitoes were really bad and bit us even after we put on the repellent. When we got out of the meadow, the sun, was really hot. We rested at each little spot of shade. During that time, Joseph and Matthew were teasing me because I was complaining. I didn't want to admit that I‘d brought shoes that were too small and hurt my feet really bad. It seemed like forever before we caught sight of the lake. Meghan, Emily and I could barely put up the tent because we were so dead tired.
The next morning I almost cried because Matthew and Joseph said that we were going to take ANOTHER hike around the entire large lake. Luckily, Matthew saved me. He said he wanted to find out where the waterfalls on the other side of the lake were coming from. So all of us, including Nevada, started hiking up the Minerettes. Meghan saw how bad the mosquitoes were biting me and loned me her sweater. We came to snow banks and tried to smash them when we crossed the stream. Finally we came to the waterfall and by then we were dying from heat. We each put our heads under the waterfall to cool off before we hiked up to the snow. The reflection from the snow would have sunburned us but I gave everyone my sunscreen. We continued hiking until we found a frozen lake. Emily tried to climb to the peak of one of the Minerettes and Nevada went with her even though they tried to get him rest. They made it about 2/3 of the way to the top. After that we hiked back to camp and took a long rest.
We took lots of pictures because the scenery was spectacular. One place was so beautiful that we all posed there for an individual picture.
That same day after our rest we packed up camp and started back to the car. The place we camped at that night (on our way back) was so green and beautiful and we were by a trickling stream. Matthew told us a great story to end the day by. After we were in our tents we begged Joseph for his Poof Ball and cat face story?
The next morning we got up and we thought the time was around 8 AM. But much to our surprise we arrived back at the car at eight so we determined that we actually got up at 5AM. It was the best backpacking hike I had ever been on (it was my first trip after all). I really appreciate my brothers taking us girls.
Thank you
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