Topic: Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?
Title: Delirious
I used to be pretty stubborn and obnoxious. I always thought I was right, and as the self proclaimed "special one", I never stepped a wrong foot. During my summer vacation, I went to my birthplace, Albania. It was there that I learned that I am wrong, a lot. My father is from Tropoje, a village where there are more goats than people, and more cows that cars. My family owns about 6 mountains. As a family we planned to hike to the tallest mountain we own. Uncle Lirim decided to take his two sons as well, and some family friends decided that they wanted to come on our hiking trip. My Grandfather's house is on a small slope over looking mountains in all directions. Its altitude is about 2,000 feet off sea level. It's here that we started our journey. Waking up at five in the morning, we put on our clothes and grabbed our prepped bags. I had to rush to prepare my bag because I had decided I didn't need to prepare the night before. My father told me what to expect at the mountain and what I should bring but I had not given him much thought. I was super Dan, a superhuman who could do anything. We hitched a ride with some lumberjacks. They had a bright blue logging truck and we sat in the cargo bed. The lumberjacks were driving at 50 mph on a dirt mountainside road made for small cars. The truck was too big for the forest and the sides of the truck brushed up on leaves, dropping little gadflies that bit my legs. All of this was happening at around 3,000 feet off sea level. If they drove off the road, we would fall down a slope that leads to rocks and trees. Terrifying, I know. I had realized now that I should have brought bug spray. The insects weren't letting up and it was hard to kill them when I was holding on the side of a cargo bed for my life. When we finally got off, we were in a forest with a rocky, dirt road. Looking around, I saw nothing but huge ferns and trees. There were little raspberry bushes, and I enjoyed eating some. Hiking up wasn't a big deal. We had a base camp of 6,000 feet, and considering the truck did a ΕΊ of the journey, I assumed it would be easy. Was I ever wrong. The mountain side had a slope of high incline and, walking on a wet dirt path, I was slipping often. My father offered to get me a stick but I declined. I was too good for that. I jumped off a wet rock, slipped and luckily landed on my butt. I accepted my dad's stick now. The rest of the way went much smoother with the stick. When we finally got to base camp, I realized I forgot to bring a pot. There were glaciers everywhere but drinking dirty ice water was not on my agenda. I also only packed two bottles of water and I had run out. We had to balance the ice on rocks and let it melt into bottles. Not only was this a time consuming activity, but it was slow. I had brought marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers to make smores. Not only did this make me thirsty, but my stomach was now a mess of unboiled glacier water, smores, and unwashed berries from the mountainside. Hiking back down 4,000 feet is hard on chocolate. The night was also rough for me. My socks were wet with sweat and I had decided earlier I didn't need an extra pair of socks. I was freezing, even when I was next to the fire and when I woke up in the morning, I was shivering cold. I warmed myself near the fire, but I still didn't feel that well. I felt sick and being 4,000 feet away from help was bad enough. We started to make our way down the mountain and I was lagging behind. It didn't help that we went down a more treacherous path than the day before. When we stopped to take I break, I vomited. All the dirty berries, glacier water, and smores out my system. We had no water other than the dirty ice water, and the closet source of clean water was 5 hours away. I was dehydrated, and delirious. I had no choice but to walk. I walked and walked. I was tired and I tripped on a rock. I was so delirious that I got mad at the rock and started hitting it with my stick. I hit the rock and let out all my anger. I hit it until the stick broke. I probably looked insane. But after that episode, I walked angrily away. I walked for hours, and I hardly remember any of it. I was so thirsty, that my mouth felt like sand. When we finally got to the water pipe, I drank water like a madman. I drank so much that I vomited again. But I didn't care. I was going to be okay. My experience in the mountain brought me back down to Earth. I'm no super Dan who can survive anything. My hubris got the better of me. Looking back, I realize that I should have simply listened to my father. I think more carefully and acknowledge those with more experience than me. And I value water a lot more.
My essay is too long. Its 920 words. I don't really know where to shorten it. Also am I not focusing on myself enough?
Title: Delirious
I used to be pretty stubborn and obnoxious. I always thought I was right, and as the self proclaimed "special one", I never stepped a wrong foot. During my summer vacation, I went to my birthplace, Albania. It was there that I learned that I am wrong, a lot. My father is from Tropoje, a village where there are more goats than people, and more cows that cars. My family owns about 6 mountains. As a family we planned to hike to the tallest mountain we own. Uncle Lirim decided to take his two sons as well, and some family friends decided that they wanted to come on our hiking trip. My Grandfather's house is on a small slope over looking mountains in all directions. Its altitude is about 2,000 feet off sea level. It's here that we started our journey. Waking up at five in the morning, we put on our clothes and grabbed our prepped bags. I had to rush to prepare my bag because I had decided I didn't need to prepare the night before. My father told me what to expect at the mountain and what I should bring but I had not given him much thought. I was super Dan, a superhuman who could do anything. We hitched a ride with some lumberjacks. They had a bright blue logging truck and we sat in the cargo bed. The lumberjacks were driving at 50 mph on a dirt mountainside road made for small cars. The truck was too big for the forest and the sides of the truck brushed up on leaves, dropping little gadflies that bit my legs. All of this was happening at around 3,000 feet off sea level. If they drove off the road, we would fall down a slope that leads to rocks and trees. Terrifying, I know. I had realized now that I should have brought bug spray. The insects weren't letting up and it was hard to kill them when I was holding on the side of a cargo bed for my life. When we finally got off, we were in a forest with a rocky, dirt road. Looking around, I saw nothing but huge ferns and trees. There were little raspberry bushes, and I enjoyed eating some. Hiking up wasn't a big deal. We had a base camp of 6,000 feet, and considering the truck did a ΕΊ of the journey, I assumed it would be easy. Was I ever wrong. The mountain side had a slope of high incline and, walking on a wet dirt path, I was slipping often. My father offered to get me a stick but I declined. I was too good for that. I jumped off a wet rock, slipped and luckily landed on my butt. I accepted my dad's stick now. The rest of the way went much smoother with the stick. When we finally got to base camp, I realized I forgot to bring a pot. There were glaciers everywhere but drinking dirty ice water was not on my agenda. I also only packed two bottles of water and I had run out. We had to balance the ice on rocks and let it melt into bottles. Not only was this a time consuming activity, but it was slow. I had brought marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers to make smores. Not only did this make me thirsty, but my stomach was now a mess of unboiled glacier water, smores, and unwashed berries from the mountainside. Hiking back down 4,000 feet is hard on chocolate. The night was also rough for me. My socks were wet with sweat and I had decided earlier I didn't need an extra pair of socks. I was freezing, even when I was next to the fire and when I woke up in the morning, I was shivering cold. I warmed myself near the fire, but I still didn't feel that well. I felt sick and being 4,000 feet away from help was bad enough. We started to make our way down the mountain and I was lagging behind. It didn't help that we went down a more treacherous path than the day before. When we stopped to take I break, I vomited. All the dirty berries, glacier water, and smores out my system. We had no water other than the dirty ice water, and the closet source of clean water was 5 hours away. I was dehydrated, and delirious. I had no choice but to walk. I walked and walked. I was tired and I tripped on a rock. I was so delirious that I got mad at the rock and started hitting it with my stick. I hit the rock and let out all my anger. I hit it until the stick broke. I probably looked insane. But after that episode, I walked angrily away. I walked for hours, and I hardly remember any of it. I was so thirsty, that my mouth felt like sand. When we finally got to the water pipe, I drank water like a madman. I drank so much that I vomited again. But I didn't care. I was going to be okay. My experience in the mountain brought me back down to Earth. I'm no super Dan who can survive anything. My hubris got the better of me. Looking back, I realize that I should have simply listened to my father. I think more carefully and acknowledge those with more experience than me. And I value water a lot more.
My essay is too long. Its 920 words. I don't really know where to shorten it. Also am I not focusing on myself enough?
