The quiet chitters of nature gradually leave my headspace as I take in the mesmerizing beauty of a thousand shining stars in the night sky. The park ranger’s red laser starts outlining notable constellations, and I know without a doubt that I made the right decision to go on the anxiously awaited camping trip with my school.
See, if you knew me in elementary school, it was obvious that nature and I did not mix. Where South Florida’s environment flourished with humidity, swarming flies and excess heat, I prospered in air-conditioned places where the pestering and frightening aspects of Mother Nature were left at the doorstep. So, in fifth grade, when Calusa Elementary School’s annual overnight camping trip to the Everglades selected attendees in the form of a raffle, I obviously did not want to go. Yet I was the third name selected, and after listening to my assistant principal’s spiel about the trip, a small part of me wondered, would it really be so bad? I mean, aside from not having a proper shower or technology for a few days. Although I was not fully convinced at first, the concept of s’mores and hanging out with my friends enticed me enough to consider attending.
Now, I assumed my parents would deny me this experience and point out ways in which it contradicts my bug-fearing character. However, my dad took no convincing at all, and my mom was open to it as long as she made sure I knew they would miss me, and once I committed, there was no backtracking. So, a few months later, I found myself packed and on a bus to the Florida Everglades. I still remember the buzzing excitement on the bus ride over and my shock at the campsite’s size and secure fence, as a part of me fully thought we would be fending for ourselves and making our own shelter. Instead, though, the large campsite featured large tents where I spent nights bonding with my classmates and laughing until I fell asleep, a meeting area where we learned about the Everglades and brainstormed ways to help our environment and a stunning landscape that gradually opened my heart to nature.
Nightly scavenger hunts, campfires and engaging activities unlocked an adventurous side of myself I had not known prior. While this journey appeared as another field trip to most of the students, it served as a life-changing experience for me. I will never forget the obscene amount of Rice Krispies Treats I ate on the trip or the endless number of times the song “Sunflower” from the then-new “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” played. But I will also never forget my fear when the park rangers told us we would be going on a “wet walk,” or hike through the water, where we would see the gators and birds up close. Nor will I forget my surprise at how much I enjoyed the hike despite the red mosquito bites that found my legs like paint finds a canvas. Change is hard, and one has to be willing to open oneself up to new perspectives and experiences. Had I given my spot up to another student, I may still not have learned how much I value the glimmering night sky, free of the light pollution that dims even Miami’s brightest artificial lights, or the comfort of the sunrise, which I saw in full glory when the park rangers woke us up to capture the buttery orb with a piece of paper and crayons. Memories of the trip are what encouraged me to volunteer at Zoo Miami and continue to inspire me to add other national parks to my bucket list.
