Winter Trip Essay

I have been in a program called CELP (check it out here: http://www.ugdsb.on.ca/celp/Parents.htm) and part of CELP is going on a 5 day winter camping trip, yep, in tents... For our English class we were required to write an essay about winter trip, so i thought i'd share mine with you :)

"How significant are humans in “the big picture”? Our seemingly small actions have an enormous impact on what we seem to think is a bountiful planet. Don’t get me wrong; we do live on an extraordinarily rich and diverse land, but sometimes we need to step back and look at the smaller things which affect us, personally. Take an old growth tree for example, we take it for granted. To us it seems like it has been there forever, no one will miss it when we turn it into stick-it notes, surely. Stars, also, they have always been there, and always will be. We all know the Big Dipper -- now let’s make things confusing for future generations by sticking a shiny space station right next to it. Though we don’t see the effects of these trees, Black Spruce bogs have been filtering the air that we breathe. During my recent winter trip to Algonquin Park, the old growth pines, stars, and spruce bogs are what stand out so vividly for me because they all share this feeling of untouched time which makes me think about how young the human race is in comparison to this ancient splendor which we are rapidly destroying.

The old growth pines in Algonquin may be as old as 400 years, I wouldn’t know for I was not there during their germination and all through their long lives. I wonder what they would say, if they could talk. Perhaps they may tell me about how the temperature has slowly been becoming warmer, or how they watched as their mothers were cut down and shipped through the vast river systems to be made into houses and furniture. I wonder. As I was sitting below a certain White Pine that I call Warren, I looked up and watched as the wind danced through his needles and a red squirrel jumped from branch to branch. He is a part of this landscape, like all the other trees. Roots firmly planted in the soil, unable to move. He filters the air I breath, and provides shade from the intense heart of a summer sun. I feel as though he and his brothers and sisters are watching over me, but at the same time, begging for help to be protected, as they are doing for me. I shudder to think how many other ancient trees like Warren are out there, quite possibly being exploited as you read this. How young and ignorant we humans are.

There is an estimate that the oldest star in the Milky Way is 13.2 billion years old. The Earth is estimated to be 4.55 billion years old. People as we know them have only been around for approximately 200,000 years. Though that seems like an awful long time, in the grand scheme of things, we’re young. Like children, humans have always marveled at the night sky, with its glistening specks of light. We’re mesmerized by these extra terrestrial lumps, because they are the unknown. Mankind has always had a fascination and love for everything untouched. Possibly because we all share the little knowledge we have of it, and we are all connected in our own unique way. As I lay upon the frozen lake, staring up into space, I trace the outline of Orion with my finger. I wonder how many people have seen those stars. What meaning do they have for them? I would like to imagine that we will never know about these stars, that they will stay there forever, as a constant reminder that there is something far greater and more powerful than ourselves out there.

When we are young, we often rely on other things for our survival—be it our parents, or the trees in our backyard. One feeds, washes, and clothes us. The other cleans the air we breathe. When we grow older we learn to take responsibility and do some of those things for ourselves. We cannot clean the air however, and will continue to rely on our environment to provide for us. In the Spruce bogs of Algonquin, the prime age of a Black Spruce is between 100 – 200 years. Can you imagine being in your prime at 150 years of age? We walk through the frozen bogs, and I look all around me and see the beautifully slender and stark silhouettes of the Black Spruce. I know that somewhere deep below me in the frozen ground, there are bits of plants and animals that have died and sunken through the layers of moss and sedge, down to the bottom where they are preserved for thousands of years by the lack of oxygen and highly acidic waters. This unique and eternal circle of life is what keeps us captivated, intrigued and amazed by the self sufficiency of the ancient natural world.

During my recent winter camping trip in Algonquin Park, the magnificence of the White Pines, stars, and Spruce bogs left such a deep imprint in my memory because of one mutual characteristic; untouched time. The huge space of the night sky, the seeming knowledge from an old tree, and the self sufficiency, and even generosity, of a bog will all stay with me for a very long time. On our huge earth we are in a constant flux of giving and receiving; it’s just part of the cycle by which we all live. Humans as a whole are still learning to give, while the natural world has been giving, receiving, and sharing for millions of years before we came along. It truly is far superior to us, and we should step back and admire all it has done. Maybe we will even learn something that will help our young species to grow up."