Wednesday, October 4, 2017 // The Statement
7B
Personal Statement: Climb every mountain
T
he first mountain
I
climbed
in
Wyoming
wasn’t
even really a mountain. Mt.
Ann is located directly behind
Camp
Davis,
the
Rocky
Mountain Field Station owned
and operated by the University
of Michigan where students
of all majors can take earth,
environmental,
American
culture and ecology classes
during the summer — so it’s
a typical first hike for new
students. When my class of
about 20 students arrived after
a two-and-a-half-day cross-
country caravan trip, we were
told that we would be the next
group to make the inaugural
climb and that it would be
an easy hike — the perfect
starting point for a month of
intense summits.
The hike began with our
professors taking the lead
while the class fell into a
single-file line behind them.
Our GSIs rounded up the
back, carrying a cumbersome
whiteboard for field lectures
and prepared with bear spray
and satellite radios. To my
embarrassment and surprise,
I found myself literally huffing
and puffing after the first five
minutes. All I could think was:
“When will this incline end? It
has to flatten out eventually. I
can’t breathe!” Our professors
noticed our sluggish pace and
made
several
educational
stops where we identified
flowers and trees.
For me, the breaks were
never long enough. As we
climbed, I started to doubt
myself.
If this were supposed to be
our easiest hike, how was I
going to survive the rest of the
month? Worst-case scenarios
were playing through my head,
the most dramatic of which
involved me calling home for a
plane ticket back to Michigan.
I had never been so relieved
and proud as the moment I
reached the top of Mt. Ann
after six hours of hiking.
Surrounded by bright-yellow
wildflowers and a view of the
Grand Tetons in the distance,
we sat down and had class
right there on top of the
mountain.
The rest of my month
at Camp Davis was spent
climbing actual mountains,
as I would later learn to
differentiate
between
the
“glorified hill” that is Mt.
Ann and the overwhelming
monstrosities which are the
Grand Tetons.
We hiked to an elevation
of 11,000 feet on our first
Teton hike, which dwarfed
Mt. Ann in elevation and
distance. As we walked, the
trail transformed from forest,
to open flower covered hills,
to snow covered inclines that
lead to snowball fights, belly
slides, and a dramatic slip-
and-slide trip back down.
Making it to the top was
even more rewarding than
Mt. Ann and the view made
every mile worth it. There
was a palpable excitement as
we all took photos, gathering
for a group picture with
the block ‘M’ Michigan flag
prominently featured. We still
had a quick lesson, scribbling
in our orange field notebooks
as our professor described
the life of 500,000-year-old
stromatolites that were still
present at the top.
I was exhausted by the
time we made it back down,
but I could already tell I
was
becoming
acclimated
to my new life in Wyoming.
My tolerance for the thin
air was growing, my body
didn’t protest like it had on
my first climb and I wasn’t
plagued with thoughts of
self-doubt, but was instead
surprisingly impressed by my
accomplishment.
On our second free day,
we were fresh off a four-day
camping trip in Yellowstone,
and had chosen to camp in
the Gros Ventre range and
spend the Fourth of July in
the Tetons. The crowds were
intense due to the holiday, but
we were determined to make
it to Phelps Lake, where
there was a perfect rock for
cliff jumping. The class had
split into groups for various
activities, but each of us
made it to the rock at some
point that day, all with the
intention of jumping into
the freezing glacial melt.
My stomach had been
turning
all
morning
in
anticipation and my anxiety
grew rapidly as I watched my
friends jump off one by one,
some more gracefully than
others. By the time it was
my turn, I had already been
sitting at the top for what felt
like hours, nervously talking
to people who had already
jumped several times, trying
to gain some confidence
from their experience. Every
time I approached the edge I
was pulled back by the sight
of the water 20 feet below
me and the jutting edge of
the rock — I’d have to propel
myself forward to avoid it.
When I finally made the
jump after at least 20 false
starts, I was rewarded by
cheers and applause that
drowned out my scream. I
collided with the icy water
in a discombobulating blast.
The fall was disorienting as
the high drop leaves you in
the air far longer expected.
I came out of the water to
another round of applause
(I’m sure the other tourists
were just happy that I was
finally off the rock) as I
swam to the edge where my
classmates were waiting.
Like most of my Camp
Davis experiences, I was
surprised by and proud of
myself. Just as I would have
regretted not going to Camp
Davis or not finishing the
first hike, I would have left
Phelps Lake hating myself if
I were the only person who
didn’t experience the jump.
While not all my challenges
in Ann Arbor can be equated
to those at Camp Davis, it
is comforting to think that
if I jumped 20 feet into an
icy lake or hiked to 11,000
feet I can pretty much do
anything.
On the last day our class
we hiked Mt. Ann together
one last time. We had just
taken our final exam and
spent the day relaxing in
Jackson. We all wanted
to end our trip the way it
started. It had been just over
three weeks since our first
hike, but everything had
already changed drastically.
The hike was familiar yet
entirely different as the trail
had grown over and new
wildflowers had come into
season while the old ones now
towered above our heads.
But we had grown too. What
had once been a challenging
six-hour endeavor was now
a relaxing and nostalgic
conclusion that barely lasted
an hour and a half.
While I had been looking
forward to attending Camp
Davis since high school, I
was still nervous about the
challenge that committing
to a monthlong class in
Wyoming with 20 strangers
would
bring.
Everything
about it was out of my comfort
zone, but I knew that not only
did I have to do it — it’s one
way to fulfill the practical
experience
requirement
for the PitE major — but I
wanted to do it. As stressful
as those first few days were,
I am so thankful that I didn’t
let my fear and anxiety hold
me back.
My time at Camp Davis
reinforced my passion for
the environment and my
confidence — personal and
academic.
by Alexis Rankin, Senior Photo Editor
PHOTO COURTESY OF ALEXIS RANKIN