It’s a cold morning and I, tangled in a warm flannel blanket, hear my obnoxious cell phone’s alarm resound. The phone wakes me up in a flash and I kick the soft and comforting blanket off me. While excited and anxious, like a little boy about to go to Disneyland, my mind whirls around in thought to what else there is to put in my bulging luggage bag before I leave the quiet and dimmed apartment. I finally decide I have everything I need, so I walk out the door into the cold windy morning, throw my luggage into my car, and start the cold engine. Then with a smile that could melt a mother’s heart, I think to myself, “Wow, this is going to be a great rock climbing trip in Joshua Tree National Park.”
I arrive at UCR twenty minutes later with my entire heavy luggage. There are four other people there. One is named Jennifer Hopper, a short, but strong woman in her late twenties with blonde hair. She is wearing a slightly worn ball cap with the UCR logo on the front, a flannel, grey, long-sleeved shirt, and a long, dark-green pair of pants that almost hide her entire black boots. She is the director of the UCR’s “Outdoor Excursions,” and also the guide to the rock climbing trip. Jennifer, the rest of the group, and I all shuff
. . .
It is my turn, so I get close to the warm jagged rock while putting on the helmet and tying a figure eight knot to my harness. He is a tall, strong, burly man with a cute doll-like hair cut who is wearing a green, eagle-scout uniform with high quality black boots. After a few more pushes with my legs and pulls with my arms, I am at the top. All my muscles pump with blood as I push, pull, and grasp the rock in front of me. I heave myself up while I think of what to do for every move. The more I gaze the more beautiful the park looks. In addition to the trees are rock monuments, built by nature out of nowhere, that tower over me and the rest of the group. The rocks are maybe 40 feet high with cracks all over them. I reach back behind me and put my hands in the bag filled with powdery white climbing chalk to keep my hands from sweating. The soil looks grayish tan and feels course and dry. As I clap any excess chalk off, a white dust cloud emits from my hands. Hours and hours of pure rock climbing made my muscles ache to the bone. I’m about halfway up and can see my next move is very difficult.
Approximate Word count =
997
Approximate Pages =
4 (250 words per page double spaced)
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