Contact
by Sarah Xenophon
Sprites of fire leapt from the small logs crackling almost as if they
were trying to join us in our blissful dance. The smoke swirled into the
depths of the dark canopy above, disappearing into the cold blackness.
Our feet spun and whirled and our camp shoes dug little divots into the
soft forest floor all the way to the edge of the fire glow. Ash-painted faces
flicked in and out of the wavering shadows and our lighthearted beat was
kept by a small ladle tapping on a camping pot blackened with soot. It
was the beat of the wilderness and our hearty howls echoed with it. Our
guide, Tyler, who was just pleased to be there, laid back in his hammock
to watch as our savage spirits pranced about the fire-lit clearing. I can
only imagine what he saw that night… the embodiment of freedom…
the harmony of youth in nature. We were absolutely euphoric and
forgetful of the entirety of the world, if only for a short while.
You see, we weren’t just magically teleported to this moment;
there was a rather long and tiring journey to that night of wilderness
vigor. The six of us pupils, plus our guide, had started the four-day trek
at the crest of the Allegheny Front, packed and eager to plunge into the
Dolly Sods Wilderness in the Monongahela National Forest. We had been
readying ourselves for some time by that point: gathering gear, preparing
food, learning about Leave No Trace, and a hodgepodge of other
preparations. But this wasn’t just a run of the mill “start to finish without
dying” kind of backpacking trip. It was a “find out what wilderness really
means to you and while you’re out there, find yourself ” kind of trip. It
was, in its essence, a wilderness literature course, its sole purpose to read
about the wilderness while actually experiencing it. But let me tell you,
the mark it left on my soul was not that of a typical college course.
Purpose didn’t make the first day any less challenging, however.
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