Creative Writing

In The Desert

In this personal writing sample about my recent experience backpacking for 26 days through Death Valley, I experimented with narrative structure and different points of view. 

The Desert as Pain

You climb the hill, slowly but steadily. In the middle of the group, you follow the footsteps of others along the sandy slope while warning others of unstable rocks. You look up at the goal, where you will take a much needed packs-off break. You feel a sharp pain in your ankles as you continue hiking. Maybe you’ll tape them up during the break. You slip and fall, but stand right back up. You’re lucky it’s a soft and sandy surface, not a rocky mountain. Finally, you reach the top and drop your pack on the ground before drinking some water. You ask for a foot kit and dig through your backpack for your sunscreen and baseball cap. You get the medical tape and work on taping your ankles. Your teammates busy themselves with checking the map and eating their snack packs. You hear someone give a warning that you will leave in five minutes. You hurriedly finish taping your ankles, ignoring the random criss-crossing of the tape. You throw the tape back to your teammate who carries it and hurriedly tie your shoelaces. Finally, you look at the view. Finally, you take a break.

The Desert as Horror Story

I got to camp as the sun started to set and worked to put the tarps up. While the instructors helped out with cooking dinner, I set off to find some rocks, with only my headlight to guide me. The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and I heard a snap of branches a few yards ahead of me. I froze, and scrambled to shine my headlamp while holding the rock for the tarps. Suddenly, the light disappeared. I stumbled back, then turned around, looking for one of my groupmates’ lights. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I couldn’t see anything at first. I squinted, and saw moving lights in the distance. Looking back behind me, I walked quickly straight towards the lights. At dinner, I glanced behind myself, making sure there wasn’t anything lurking in the shadows.

The Desert as Moment of Silence

Our instructor finished sharing the reading and motioned with his hand. We followed him along the small creek to our individual solo sites. One by one, we got ‘dropped’ off at different areas. We stopped at each one, and eventually, I got to my solo spot. The rest of the group continued on as I started setting up my tarp and items. The sun shone brightly overhead and slowly sank behind the mountains. Finally, when I finished, I sat on a boulder with my journal and reflected on the journey ahead. The sky eventually darkened. One by one, the stars appeared. I went under my tarp and lay there for a moment, and in the silence, I heard the wind, the crickets, and the occasional bird calls.

The Desert as Reflection

On the second and third days of solo, I truly thought about and reflected on the trip: the first day on campus, when everyone was anxious to know their groups, the first resupply, where everyone excitedly lined up to get new snack packs, and the rest day at Racetrack, where everyone got much-needed sleep and took part in team-building activities. As we continued trekking through the desert and valleys, up ridges and down drainages, I continued thinking. About my family. About my friends. About school. About college. About the future. At night, I thought about how everyone around the world sees the same stars. I thought about how we’re all connected this way.

The Desert as Space

It’s like a destination among a map of stars. The red hue of the moon stands out against the dark night sky and bright, white stars. The vastness and unknown makes you wonder about what is beyond the stars and out in the universes. You think about where you are now. And you appreciate the stillness and silence.

unconditional

they live short lives,

                                         just your typical streetlight

yet, some guide us through the darkest moments.

they live within every moment

                                                               forgive when we leave for hours

and hours

                      and hours.

maybe it’s merely a passing cloud or maybe

                                                                                           it’s waiting for a sun that will

                                                                                           never arrive.

they greet us with wagging tails and happy tapping

                                                                                                          as they jump up and down.

they don’t speak in words but

instead call out to us—the low and high,

                                               the loud and quiet,

the howling of a waterfall

the crashing of the waves                                blending into the shore

                                                     where are you?

what if we loved

                                  unconditionally

what if we lived

                                 in the moment

                                 every second minute hour day week year

a new something to think

                                     to be

                                     to care

what if we learned

                                      from the pets                 no

                                                 from our family

                                                 a sister

                                                 a friend

applied it to our own lives by

treating each other with joy and forgiveness and

kindness