My calves are aching. We have only been on the trail for six days, but have covered over sixty miles. I am starting to get to the point where my sweaty and unshaven body no longer feels bad-a**, just gross. It is getting late. The ten of us are sitting under the shade of a big manzanita bush. I tilt my head back and see the fragile brown bark curling up into tiny spirals. I close my eyes trying to catch my breath. I feel a cool breeze wisp away the loose hairs that are clinging to my sweaty shoulders.
We had only hiked a couple miles that day, but they were the hardest on the trip. Completely exposed to the blazing sun, we scrambled up and over a rocky mountain. When we finally got to the ABC lakes we were all delirious. The ABC’s are unique because there are about seven small to medium lakes all within a mile radius of each other. The next 36 hours we would spend alone, all ten of us ruling over our very own lake.
I slowly hike up to the top of the basin and find the perfect spot. I am on a shelf between two of the lakes. The outlet from the upper one, flowing steadily down to the one below it--my own personal waterfall. I see all the way down the valley from where we came. On my right, tall

granite mountains loom over the basin. Their gothic formations give an eerie feel to the cool summer night. I set my purple Osprey pack down and slowly take off my boots. They are caked with mud. I examine my feet and count the the blisters...fourteen in total.
That year had been hard. Starting high school was hard and I was glad freshman year was over. Although I had been surrounded by people the whole time I was sad. I hated myself for feeling that way, so I didn’t let myself feel anything. I convinced myself that I was just being ungrateful. The feelings I pushed down had built up, just like the mud on my worn hiking boots.
I get up and dig my sleeping bag and pad out from the bottom of my dusty backpack. That familiar smell hits me when I pull the down bag out of the stuff sack: campfire, sweat and dirty socks. Feeling weak and lightheaded from the long day, I sit down and start to blow up my pad, deeply inhaling and slowly exhaling, watching it become firm. I lie down on top of it and look up at the dimming sky.
Nature is one of the few places where I feel completely at peace. There are no expectations. There are no judgements. There is just beauty. Pure untainted beauty. In nature, the short grass and the tall trees grow in harmony. Their differences go unnoticed. The human race, however, is much different. As I lie there, the realization deeply saddens me.
I reach for my sleeping bag and slowly slide my sore body into its familiar warmth. As the sky starts to take on vibrant colors, I become acutely aware of my aloneness. I start to get a feeling in the pit on my stomach that I hadn’t let myself feel for quite some time. My throat tightens and I feel my eyes start to sting. I look down the valley and see small city lights start to come on in the

distance, a warm tear rolls down my sunburnt cheek. I look up at the mountains and see the peaks catching the last light. The grey rock suddenly turns into a flaming orange. The intensity of the sunset heightens my emotions and more tears roll silently down my face, as I watch the grand finale of the day.