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Months after graduating from from college, at 23, my heart stopped. One minute I was there, the next, my body had quit on me in a truly colossal way. The brain injury I acquired from that event was colossal. I am still, and forever will be picking up the pieces of the life I’d led, and lost. However, I was not without my memory, of the passions I’d had. One day, I was attempting to peruse my email messages, and found a flyer for a paddling trip in the Apostle Islands National Park, or preserve. Ultimately, I was unfamiliar with grandeur and reverence the dramatic red sandstone backdrop set, against the generally amiable waters of Lake Superior. This would become my first independently planned, and funded trip, since my injury. I’d received a full scholarship from Push America, the nonprofit program developed to enable individuals of all ability levels to participate in outdoor recreation programs. I had been a fearless, indecent traveler before my injury, so chasing accessible adventure programs came pretty naturally. Stepping off that plane, in Madison, WI, I remember feeling flush with terror, that I didn’t have any personal connections with this group, so, it’d be a whole new game. As I nervously peered around the closest gates, hoping to have the program leader materialize, I wondered, in horror, if I’d made a mistake, and suddenly, I’m greeted by a vibrant, young, outdoorsy guy, calling, “Courtney? Is that you? I’m sorry, when your gate was changed, I wasn’t sure where to find you.” I’m not sure I’d ever felt so relieved, and grateful to meet new people. He showed me back to our tribe of weary airport travelers, and I slowly got acquainted about 12 new friends, from every corner of the country, and an intrepid British doctoral candidate. My tent mate, Abby, was a young woman from Austin, TX. Quickly, I identified certain participants, as natural leaders within the group. A man named Lonnie, who’d lost his vision in a hunting accident, had a vibrant persona, instantly connecting with people through conversation, and good hearted comedy. I often struggle to connect with new groups of people because my speech was greatly affected by my brain injury. I lacked the volume, and clarity,we generally take for granted. However, this major caveat has always been my last thought, in terms of my planning for life events and experiences. I muddle through, forcing people to stop, and listen, if want a chance at hearing my words. I felt so fortunate to quickly connect with my tent mate, Abby. We had scored an accessible tent, that was erected on an elevated platform. I was getting to see, and learn about accessibility in ways I’d never thought about before. Reteaching my brain to hold a paddle, let alone control my position in the water, immediately proved to be yet another skill to add to my list of things to remaster. Although, the day we canoed was a fantastic group bonding experience. Each day kayaking, i was paired with a local guide, from Wilderness Inquiry. Their attention to detail, and knowledge of the magnanimous red sandstone cliffs, caves, and rock formations was truly splendid. I marveled at the scenery, and the way the splendor of our surroundings could supersede any of my personal struggles in adapting to life as a differently abled human. Those 3 Dayton the water, I was humbled by the Great Lake Superior, and the beauty her shores were consistently reshaping. I’ve found myself at times, wondering if we are still, ‘America, land of the beautiful’.. though trips, and programs such as these are incredibly powerful, as they maintain natural splendor for the enjoyment of all.