Way back in Cycle 3, our class had our immersion to Nashville. We stayed in villas in Montgomery Bell State Park. Dr. mentioned in his post, “Limestone Trails at Montgomery Bell State Park”, that we went on a hike. It said that we followed a stream and then followed a ridge trail back to the villas, but it never said what happened in-between that. I’m gonna tell what really happened on that hiking day at Montgomery Bell State Park.
Our class did follow a stream; we did get soaked with nasty water; we were trying to learn something about the boring rocks that I don’t remember; and were trying to see who would fall in the stream the most.
After a long time of following the creek (mainly walking in it), we got near a children’s play-area. Dr. told us that we needed to get back, but that we weren’t tracing our steps back. We had to climb over more huge, boring rocks to get to the ridge trail. Dr. then told us to just follow the path. Seven of us went up ahead while the rest of the class stayed way behind.
Meanwhile, one student was assigned to be the last one of the group. He got ahead of Dr., by a couple of paces, but kept looking back to make sure Dr. was following us. One time he looked back, he realized that our teacher was gone! He told two other students what had happened, and they, freaking out, ran up trying to catch up to the rest of the group. They found us and filled us in.
We all thought we were going to die out there: we were gonna be eaten alive by mountain lions; we were gonna starve; we were gonna die of thirst because we were all too stupid to go back to the stream for water! We were all going to die no matter what, unless we found Dr. We didn’t know what to do.
Some of the so-called, “adventurous”, students ran back to find Dr., while one student continued to follow the trail. The rest of us just stayed put.
The group who ran back found Dr., dilly-dallying, while the group who stayed put tried to find the one student who’d ran up ahead of the main group. Soon enough, we were happy to see Dr. again (well some of us were), because we were tired of looking for where we had to go. The first thing I heard from him was, “You guys shouldn’t have wandered off.”
It wasn’t our fault that we didn’t know where Dr. was. He was busy taking pictures so the rest of us went up ahead. Because of this, we could have died. We didn’t know where to go. He should be in front, so we know where to go and so we don’t die. It was all of his fault not ours.
He didn’t believe that.
First off, the rocks were NOT boring.
Second, Piper fails to mention the plaintive phone-call I received saying something like, “Um, we seem to have lost you.”
To which I replied, “Where are you? Have you passed the lake yet?” I said this as I stood there on the same trail they’d been following, looking at the lake.
“No. What lake?” was the reply.
Here I am, trying to explain things the best way that I can. And Dr. just ruins it. Thanks a lot!
That, I’m afraid is one of the central tragedies of life and the internet in particular. You do your best, you write with your heart on your sleeve, exposed for everyone to see, and some doofus who has no appreciation of the immense effort it took, has to post some irrelevant, mean comment.
I do appreciate your effort. You’ve been a great intern this week, Piper, but I’m afraid the last lesson about blogging is the hardest.
Besides, I was not one of the people walking through the woods on a beautiful spring morning, unaware of the diamond droplets of water falling through the sparse, filigreed, canopy, and not taking the time to wonder at the immeasurably poignant history told by the beautiful rocks beneath our feet.
Hey, interning here is (a little bit) better than dusting off bookshelves!
Seriously, this week was a lot of fun (especially the photoshopping).