I just love the outdoors! With a couple of friends from our youth group, we go up to some mountain or valley and camp out for a couple of days. Life's a beach, some say. I beg to disagree: life's a camp! The call of the wild gets me wild. Camping happened to be one of my Physical Education classes in school.
Some time ago, we took a trip up the foothills of the Sierra Madre. I was in charge of a group of teeners who, for the most part of their lives, grew up in suffocating city alleys. We started as a happy bunch out with a goal to explore some hidden waterfalls in a heavily forested mountain ridge, all the while enjoying the cool mountain air and the gentle rustle of tree branches.
Thirty minutes later, things started to change. One by one, a complaint club was formed. "How long will this take?" "You said this would be fun!" And also the classic "I can't take it anymore!" One guy skidded on a path of slush. Another one rolled down a slippery incline like a potato cascading down a windshield. And another guy was gasping with every step.
I told them that we just had to keep trudging on because there was no point in turning back. After all, what were we here for? We simply had to rally all our strength until we reached our destination. Well, after what seemed like two hours of non-stop agony, things started to become much easier. They appeared to have come upon some sort of inner strength in large quantities.
In a few minutes, we heard the mad rush of water. We had made it to our little paradise. We spent the whole day enjoying the breathtaking falls and its exotic beauty. It was such a lovely reward to all of us who, despite all the trials, decided not yield to our earlier feelings and emotions.