When I arrived in Phoenix, the last stop of my road trip last summer, a copy of "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac was waiting for me on my bed at Rachel's house. I finally picked it up and started reading today. Oh my goodness, "On the Road" + Mumford and Sons = itchy feet. I just want to go go go. This feeling is fueled even more by my annual birthday argument with my dad (this year I was told I make stupid decisions and am irresponsible), and a late night text from Bernie informing me that he is rafting down the Colorado River from the Hoover Dam to Yuma. (I am insanely jealous.)
I'm not too far into the book, but already found something I love:
"If you drop a rose in the Hudson River at its mysterious source in the Adirondacks, think of all the places it journeys by as it goes out to sea forever- think of that wonderful Hudson Valley."
I am going to buy roses and drop them in all the headwaters of streams I see in the Smokies. I just think it sounds terribly romantic to struggle through the jungle of Huggins Hell up to where the Styx Branch begins, then drop a rose in it and imagine its journey to the ocean.
Only sixteen pages in, and I am already inspired. I can't wait to see what this book has in store for me.
I'm not too far into the book, but already found something I love:
"If you drop a rose in the Hudson River at its mysterious source in the Adirondacks, think of all the places it journeys by as it goes out to sea forever- think of that wonderful Hudson Valley."
I am going to buy roses and drop them in all the headwaters of streams I see in the Smokies. I just think it sounds terribly romantic to struggle through the jungle of Huggins Hell up to where the Styx Branch begins, then drop a rose in it and imagine its journey to the ocean.
Only sixteen pages in, and I am already inspired. I can't wait to see what this book has in store for me.
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