observed two bright orangesymbols of death. Slowly stalking the fawn I had seen, they passed by our campsite and Isaw their blank expressions and worn out clothes. Although I didn't understand theirbackcountry mumbling, but I knew their intentions. What a contrast. One second, to beenthralled in the isolation and continuity of nature, then to be reminded of your placeamong the hunters and consumers of the world. Despite my conflicting feelings, I owed my full energies to the group if we weregoing to reach our destination before dusk of another day. Moments after we had brokencamp, we came upon that same stream and the camera we had treasured was dropped-swallowed by nature in an attempt to keep the memories we attempted to steal from itsdomain. It was a symbol of how technology let us preserve moments in the wildernessforever, but this time nature would not allow humans to steal anything from it. Wesalvaged it, and continued onward, our spirits dampened. Our first challenge again wasanother steep climb. This time was different. My legs felt every step, and my heelsthrobbed with each move. I began to question my ability to complete the challenge, but weencouraged each other to press on, over the summit and along the peak. Lake Huron soon appeared to our left, slowly meandering through the trees below.I quietly thought how many thousands or millions of people had navigated that Lake, allforgotten now, like we would be too one day. We quickly noticed our shortage of foodand water for the day ahead of us and also realized we had not progressed as far as we hadintended yesterday. One of the most physically and spiritually challenging days of our liveslay before us and we grabbed it with both hands enthusiastically-- despite our pain. Aftermethodically using each morsel of food that remained we eventually reached the smallerportion of the hills.As we descended down from the revine my body began to experience new pain,but I was confident and ...
