Erica Kepner,
Broadwater High School

About twenty miles from my back door exists another world. I was first introduced to this gorgeous area last summer when my brother-in-law took me on a hike We drove down the narrow, winding road, past the restaurant and toward Deep Creek Canyon in a sweltering, tiny Nissan pickup. One glance to the right or left catches wildlife and nature at its best. The fresh smell of the air and the gentle lulling of the twists and curves of the road made my eyes heavy with sleep. We pulled off (all too soon) onto a little dirt road that jutted out from the highway and began our hike.

First, we had to cross the creek. There was no bridge, so we had to wade through the icy-cold water. We soaked our socks and shoes, but the water was actually refreshing on the hot summer day; the surprising sting shocked me out of my sleepiness. As we continued our climb, the red willows and thick roughage had to be held aside in order to climb the opposite bank. The leafy branches and random, sharp twigs grabbed my legs as I climbed, but the colors were deep and beautiful. Only in paintings have I ever seen such rich browns, reds, and greens.

Once we squeegeed the excess water off our numb legs, we made our way through a field of tall wild grass. The unkempt grass reached my waist and would have been a perfect playground for hide and seek. The individual blades took turns tickling my bare legs. It was as if they knew how sensitive my naked skin was to their wispy fingers. I was uneasy about this vast field because only my feet could tell me what was under all those layers of grass. My eyes were of no help. My imagination had me believe that snakes were coiled, waiting for my uncertain step to disturb them. My pace quickened a bit, and I was relieved to see the end of the grassy meadow.

Next we came upon a lush forested area with many different kinds of trees forming a canopy of twigs, leaves, and branches over our heads. Spaces between each branch had been perfectly arranged to allow the afternoon light to brightly beam through the trees, giving it a heavenly appearance. The quiet murmur of the creek became less and less audible as we began our long ascent up the uneven mountainside. The trail was overgrown and barely visible. To each side were moss-covered branches and old broken stumps of trees that were once great and tall visages. The circle of life was apparent everywhere I turned: beautiful, living trees and dead stumps, old bones and curious wildlife. In the crevice of every switchback, as well as randomly along the entire trail, grew flowers of many shapes, colors, and sizes. There were small dainty flowers with delicate petals and larger ones with sturdier stems. Their open blossoms seemed to be smiling up at the sun, thanking it for its life-giving warmth.

I knew we had almost reached the top of the mountain when I heard the faint trickle of water. It was different from the whooshing water of the creek; it was much quieter. After the last few switch-backs and steep slopes, I saw the most beautiful sight: a wall of rocks, surrounded by greenery, with water gently cascading down the mountainside. The cool water looked so inviting after our long, hot hike :fresh, clean, and sparkling. I desperately wanted to slurp a handful. Our shoes and socks had finally dried, and it was now time to begin the long descent. The scenery was just as beautiful the second time around. Although I've only been to this "special place" a few times, the beauty and warmth it generates will never leave me for as long as I live. I know it is not so, but I like to call this place my own.