Student profile
Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
The air becomes thinner and thinner. Wind gusts penetrate my jacket. Trickling water on the trail freezes in a matter of minutes. The metal tips of my trekking poles crunch through the newly formed ice. As I approach a wooden sign reading “Trail Crest,” sandwiched between two granite spires, I gaze at the hundreds of miles of panoramic view surrounding me.
Hiking has always been a central part of my life, shaping my interests and my personal outlook on the world around me. My peak-bagging phase—a time in my life where I became obsessed with summiting mountains—was predicated on my established love for hiking and the backcountry. When I learned of Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, I knew I could not resist.
The end of my sophomore year summer turned into a planning frenzy: permits, budgeting, equipment, and training were all required for me to even attempt an ascent. Furthermore, the search for a hiking partner was not easy: no one was willing to weather 24 miles and 7,000 feet of elevation gain in one day. I was on my own. Motivated to prove to myself that I was capable of accomplishing the feat, despite being alone, I proceeded as planned.
At 2:40 AM under the nightlight of a full moon, I stepped onto the trail. On the forefront of my mind was keeping pace: 2.5 miles per hour if I was going to reach the summit before the thunderstorms rolled in. However, I quickly found that the high altitude demanded that I slow down my pace and take ibuprofen in order to adapt to the harsh conditions. Around mile six, I noticed that the water in my CamelBak ceased to flow: the water had frozen inside the tube, rendering my reservoir useless. Repositioning the straw to make contact with my “warm” body, I resolved the problem, producing a steady trickle of water. By 8 AM, I was only two miles from the summit, but the wind chill and gusts were unbearable. For the first time, I considered turning around to reach lower elevation and warmer conditions. As I pushed through the physical pain, my mental strength flooded in, urging me to complete the ascent. I rambled my way up the final snow-covered granite slabs, at last, reaching the summit. Gazing out toward the hundreds of miles of treeless granite spires and emerald-tinted frozen lakes provided me with an unforgettable sense of accomplishment and serenity.
Reflecting on the summit, I realized that the struggles I faced while pursuing this accomplishment sparked the development of traits that would aid me in the future. The altitude sickness, frozen water, and freezing wind revealed that no matter how much a person plans for something, nothing always goes according to plan. Accepting the unpredictable nature of not just the outdoors, but other aspects of life has allowed me to be more spontaneous and creative in the ways I approach problems. Given limited resources, I have grown to appreciate the importance of being well-versed in diverse skill sets in order to overcome challenges.
The traits I developed from this experience galvanized the pursuit of my other interests. My care for the outdoors motivates me to advocate for other things I care deeply about, like my town. Being active in my town’s government allows me to leave a lasting footprint on the youth community and environment of my town. Similar to the demands of the outdoors, the resourcefulness and creativity required in science and research attracts me to pursue my lifelong interest in the field. As I continue my search for knowledge and adventure in college and beyond, I see the skills born on Mt. Whitney aiding me in my pursuit of a diverse education.
And while I’m at it, I’ll try for a pass at the Pacific Crest Trail. After all, Mt. Whitney was never the ultimate peak for me.