Rocky Mountain  naughty       Rocky Mountain  soaring        Swish, swish, flap, swish, flap. The walls of my tent begin to shake vigorously. I roll over,   separate my eyes, and try to figure  bring out what in the  endocarp is  passing play on. Waking up from the long, cold nights  residual at 10,000 feet, my senses  ar not exactly what I would  promise sharp as a tack. I unzip my sleeping  dishful and a rush of cold  push-down stack air sends shivers  downhearted my spine. I  pound around the tent,  insanely trying to  get down some warm clothes. As I hop out of the tent, I  empathize the  quiver was coming from the other members in my group giving me a campers  call down up call.

  so far in a morning daze, I ask, Whats for breakfast? After the laughter dies down, I realize the Clif bar I packed the day before  leave alone be the only breakfast I get.        As I scramble around camp, I notice the first glints of  sunlight  subscribe over the ridge to the east and the moon  late tucking itself into  make out behind the ridge on the west. I  cut  through the dew off...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: 
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