When I smelled the fresh air, heard the pure sounds of the mountains, felt the smooth and rough rocks, tasted the fresh baked bread, and saw the beautiful mountains before me I knew I had found a passion. Before the trip I was worried because who wouldn’t be? I was going to the White Mountains with a bunch of people who I barely knew. Although now I wonder about how much I would give to be back in that hut. I still vividly remember the taste of the hut’s bread but I wonder if that bread was really as good as I remember it.  The beautiful sounds of the birds and the serenity I felt when I was there was complete, but now that I look back I consider that maybe the highway wasn’t as far away as I thought. The highway may have been a mile away, but it felt like a world away. And seeing those inspiring peaks rising above all the colorful forests and steep rocks I think about how easy it could’ve been to just look up a picture of them, but no picture could’ve conveyed the beauty I was witness to.