Audrey Rufe
English 134
10/24/04
Making the Climb
The alarm clock rang and I forced myself out of bed. I took a shower, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth--all my other normal morning routines. But that day was not normal at all. I was going to do something with my English class that I never thought I would do. I was going to hike up Poly Canyon. With a horrible nightÕs sleep and a sore throat, I was not in the mood to undergo a Òmoderately strenuousÓ hike, but I pushed myself to get ready.
Once the entire class had assembled, we made our way to the Poly Canyon gate where we would meet Professor Marx. The overcast sky and moist air were usual characteristics of San Luis Obispo mornings. I was not yet accustomed to this: I never dared to go outside before eight oÕclock in the morning. The rest of the class shared my irritation over the fact that it was freezing and very early. After passing by dormitories and the Cerro Vista Apartments, we reached the meeting place where I could just make out the sight of Mr. Marx. Unlike the rest of us, he was bright eyed and ready to begin the walk.
Silence swept over the entire group as we began our trek. Nothing could be heard except the crunch of gravel underneath our feet and the occasional explanatory interjections by our professor regarding the surrounding plants and rocks. Huge formations of serpentinite created a wall on one side of the trail, and on the other side the mountains were covered in blankets of coastal scrub. After a few minutes every bush and rock looked the same to me and I could not identify with Mr. MarxÕs admiration for the beauty of that area. Even with the surprising deer sightings and geological features around me, I could only think about the end of the hike.
Twenty minutes into the walk on the tan graveled road, something caught my eye. A tall antique-looking arch of rocks faced us. Its looming frame forced us to crane our stiff necks to view it. The very top was wearing thin and looked as if it was going to collapse in on itself. The arch was the entrance to a path lined with a low rock wall on either side. The mist created a moist refrigerator-like atmosphere; we gladly sat down on the walls to take a break. Although my sore throat had gone away, my fatigue had not. Slouching on the rocky bench, I could hear the pitter-patter of dew on the leaves of a nearby tree. The occasional rustle of branches caused by the recently awakened birds, also interrupted the silence. Dense fog covered everything within a ten feet radius of my vision. It was so thick that the tops of the nearby mountains were barely visible.
The restful stop was disrupted when the professor told us we were to commence the dreadful climb. I pulled my limp body up and started to drag my feet towards the place where we were to begin the ascent. Crumbling rocks on the path made me falter every now and then. The pain from my recent knee surgery kept triggering a voice in my head saying, ÒYou should just stop and rest. The professor doesnÕt mind if you stop.Ó But I was going to persevere: I always finish what I start.
Even
though I was still annoyed, the hike proved better when a few interesting
things came to my attention. A clump of trees on the side of the trail was
covered in leaves at the top but near the bottom it was quite sparse. This was
because the deer only feasted upon the low hanging branches. The tree was lush
and green, but on the other side dead grass covered the rolling hills. The tree
was in this condition because a nearby spring supplied it with water. Small
shrubs poked out of the ground like the tops of pineapples and covered the
mountain and sides of the trail. If you brushed up against them these natural
weapons would give you a sharp poke warning you to leave their homeland.
The sun began to burn through the thick fog. The higher we hiked the hotter it got. Finally we reached what I thought was the summit, only to find that the fog was covering the true destination. At that point I was getting frustrated. We stopped so frequently to write down descriptions about our surroundings that I was running out of new observations. There were only bland colors of beige, brown, and olive in my field of vision, and I thought I would never see a vibrant primary color again. While advancing to the real summit, all I could think about was how pointless the hike was. I just wanted to be back in my bed.
Trudging up the trail, with sweat dripping down my face, I had reached my limit. I was just about to start ranting to my friend when the summits of mountains started coming into view. I realized that we had reached the long anticipated destination. It was breathtaking. I could see for miles all around. The fog was still very thick and it covered the nearby mountains so that the tops looked as if they were floating. Deep canyons surrounded us and were like huge basins filled with small lakes, trees, and sweeping fields. The Cal Poly campus looked like a mere toy model from our towering elevation. What came next was the true reward of the entire trek. As the fog cleared on a nearby ridge, a herd of horses appeared as if from nowhere. Less than twenty yards away from us, twenty-one beautiful animals were grazing and trotting around. Most of them were chocolate brown with glistening sleek coats. One white horse stood out with a black freckled body and coarse hair and mane. We all stood and watched in amazement at that spectacular scene with the mountainous backdrop.
After enjoying the gorgeous scenery, I felt so humble and selfish. With such beautiful things as these mountains all I could think about was myself, not Mother NatureÕs lovely masterpiece. That sight and the glorious surroundings made the early wake-up time worth it. I then realized that I needed to have more of an adventurous attitude when experiencing something new such as this hike. It was like a sign saying good things come to those who persist. I had been so anxious to end the hike that I did not appreciate the experience and my surroundings enough until the end. It was the destination that helped me appreciate the journey.