Adirondack Trip, May 21-23, 2000
By Mike O'Malley (This account is based on a true story of a trip to the Adirondack Mountains.) (In original)

I woke up very early that morning, not quite sure of my name and location. A strange woman entered the room that I had apparently slept in, and threw some packages at me. She subsequently rushed me into a van, and drove me to a location that I was sure I had been in before. She pulled alongside a white van, from which a woman with red hair emerged. This woman introduced herself as Ms. Arnini, my Environmental Studies teacher [Ed. Note: and ICO leader]. My driver introduced herself as my mother. Still in a confused state, I entered Ms. Arnini's van. Soon, we had picked up three oddball characters. Supposedly, there were fellow students of mine at a Co-op High School. I had doubts, but I kept them to myself.

Five hours later, we arrived at our destination: a parking lot. I observed my peers stuffing food, clothing, and other items that were referred to as backpacks. I followed suit, and soon we began a three-mile walk over an incredibly muddy and rocky surface. Near the end of our journey, we found a beautiful body of water that was known as John's Brook. We crossed it and, as I puzzled over who John was, we came upon a cabin.

My oddball classmates and I quickly set up the cabin for us humans, stuffing food in mouse-proof storage, arranging bunks, and supplying water from John's Brook. As I carried the water back, I looked for signs of who John was. I found none. We then boiled the water and used it to make a hearty stew, ate dinner, and then went to sleep.

The following morning, our group departed for the main cabin. We sought water and a weather forecast. We found that the day had a 60 percent chance of rain, with thunderstorms. Given the weather probability, we opted for a short 6-mile hike up a Big Slide Mountain, going down a Yard Mountain. Going up Big Slide Mountain was a little difficult, as it was 4, 080 feet high. A good part of this distance was straight up. As its name implied, a portion of this mountain resembled a rockslide.

Eventually we reached the peak, and were treated to a beautiful view of the Adirondack Mountains as we ate lunch. A half-hour passed, and then fog descended on the mountain. We went over an overpass and climbed back down Yard Mountain. As our trip up had been mostly on dry, rocky ground, our trip down was a pleasant mixture of mud and rocks. This lovely mixture caused me many ankle twists, wrist twists and head bangs (the soles of my boots are bare as a baby's bottom). Back at our cabin, we ate spaghetti and slept. The next day, we managed to get to the van shortly before the rain came down. It's funny how, when faced with powers beyond your control, you gain strength you didn't know you had. I have asthma. On top of that, I caught bronchitis a day before the trip. I could feel my lungs choking to the beat of my heart. Somehow, I still managed to climb the mountain. For me, reaching the summit makes the whole trip worthwhile.

It is funny how a few moments of pleasure make up for a lot of pain. It is also funny how, while companions are great to have, the only person that I can really depend on is myself. If one person gets hurt, everyone suffers. Everyone has to stick together. It's different from going alone. It's a little slower but more rewarding.

The insight that comes from experiences such as this is indescribable. Being alone with nature, you realize that you are still a part of it. Civilization cannot change that. You learn to appreciate nature, and you also learn that you have a responsibility to take care of it. Being in an Environmental Studies class wouldn't make a difference in my life if I had never seen nature. Also, the isolation from society allows you to discover things about yourself that you never knew. You can also see yourself in relation to the people at home, as you don't have to deal with them. You also learn to trust the people that you are with, as your life could be in their hands. Perhaps the most sobering revelation comes at the top of a mountain. Looking over miles of land from an omniscient pont of view, you realize that you are insignificant. You also realize that your biggest problems are even less significant than you are. That revelation is priceless.

THANK YOU INNER CITY OUTINGS (in CAPS in original)