Another requirement, that goes in tandem with the first one, is to go on three out of four field trips, one of which is mandatory for all. The required one is a weekend trip, which was this past weekend. We were to leave Friday morning at 6:30 and arrive back at school today, Sunday, in the late afternoon.
However, Josh and I had a biennial banquet to attend for AXΣ. I guess the fact that it happens every two years made us tell Dr. McNeal that we had to leave early, thereby prioritizing our fraternity brothers over our potential academic endeavors. We didn't think our grades would be jeopardized, though, so we sought to leave early. He said it was okay, but we would had to drive down ourselves and leave ourselves. Also, there would be no reimbursement for gas and whatnot. I don't think I've truly understood the life of a poor college student until this semester. I seriously spend 80% of my funds on booze and haircuts.
So Josh and I left Friday morning to go to Death Valley National Park. We made a quick detour to check out the beautiful Mono Lake. I felt a bit guilty because I had a lot of fun, while still learning. It has a rich history and wonderful sights as well. Josh waded in an admittedly disgusting-looking carbon dioxide spring, but it looked really warm and pretty fun as well. The warm water went up to his chin, and the lurid scent of sulfur made its home on his skin. We learned about the tufas of Mono Lake (shown below), which are just rocks made beneath the surface of the lake that stand tall as the water level drops.
The most beautiful part of Mono Lake was the fact that we were walking on a marshy beach, but the skies retained the blue clarity of a tinted diamond. The sun was bright, but we were surrounded by snow-capped mountains. I think we were driving at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, if not in the range itself. The views were consistently spectacular.
We also stopped around to pick up a few plants, but when we got to the campsite around 6PM after almost 9 hours of driving, we were understandably tired. However, at Dr. Brunell's challenge, a few of us decided to climb the 680 feet Eureka Dunes, ones he claimed were the tallest in North America. I have since learned that this isn't so but only by about 50 feet.
We started off as a big group, probably about a dozen, walking up the dunes with only our eyes to guide us through the night's scarce light. We had flashlights, but if we turned them on to see what was in front of us, it was difficult to see further away. We knew we had to veer left and then upwards because a direct path to the peaks would yield a journey riddled with rises and dips that would not only disallow us to see our campsite light, but also make our work much more difficult in terms of energy expense.
However, because it was dark, we veered only a bit to the left, and ended up climbing the steepest part of the dunes anyways. Josh had to pee, so he and I started off behind the group. Then, as we moved to catch up, hiking with great difficulty, we joined a few of the slower members. Walking with them, I guess I felt a bit of camaraderie, since we were not physically fit enough to climb all the way up. We were told it would be difficult, but I guess we did one or both of two things: overestimated our own fitness level and/or underestimated the sand dunes. Either way, we climbed up to this last stretch, three of us, before it got really steep.
I actually went up a bit further, thinking I could easily follow the main group all the way up. Halfway up the steep part, though, I gave up, sweating and tired, muscles crying for respite. I sat alone for a long while.
As the nine others climbed up, leaving me solitary on the sandy slant, I began to hear a low hum. It was a deep timbre, as if the dune itself were singing to me. I forgot about my fatigue, while ironically catering to it, and laid down to listen. I felt the reverberating note vibrating all throughout my body, like an internal echo. It was something so alive, yet I knew that it came from the inanimate. I thought about how it had always been like this, since the hundreds of thousands of years ago that the dune developed, it has always sung, at least before humankind had developed. Thus, in a sense, I was listening to a song that was older than time itself. I don't think there could be a noise more beautiful on this planet, at least not one of human origins.
Justin and Monica were below a bit, and the three of us ended up meeting in the middle. I yelled down to the other two stragglers, after Josh and the others had left. We hung out for a bit, waiting for them to come down.
After about an hour or so, we got tired of waiting. Justin and I looked at each other and we knew. We had to go to the highest point. This was an opportunity that we couldn't pass up, maybe once in a lifetime.
So the three of us climbed up, determined to reach the highest point possible. We crawled and slid, but we kept going. Upon reaching the top of the steepest part, Justin and I felt an amazing rush of satisfaction, as if our greatest goals had just been achieved, and in some way, I felt as if it had been. I felt as if my accomplishment represented what I can do, pushing myself beyond what I see are my limits. If I work at it, I guess I can do things I never thought I could do, and I love that it was Nature that inspired me to realize so.
In other news, when I got back to the AXΣ banquet, I was awarded "Fraternity Clown," which doesn't mean I'm funny. It just means I look good with make-up and a red nose, I suppose.
