Camp Rock 2 Quotes

This is real, this is me,” I said. She blinked. “Did you just quote Camp Rock at me? That’s not very pop punk.” “I’ve gotta go my own way.” “Okay, firstly, that’s High School Musical 2. . . .

I'm pretty sure that when babies are born in Oregon, they leave the hospital with birth certificates - and teeny-tiny sleeping bags. Everyone in the state camps. The hippies and the rednecks. The hunters and the tree huggers. Rich people. Poor people. Even rock musicians. Especially rock musicians. Our band had perfected the art of punk-rock camping, throwing a bunch of crap into the van with, like, an hour's notice and just driving out into the mountains, where we'd drink beer, burn food, jam on our instruments around the campfire, and sack out under the open sky. Sometimes, on tour, back in the early hardscrabble days, we'd even camp as an alternative to crashing in another crowded, roach-infested rock 'n' roll house. I don't know if it's because no matter where you live, the wilderness is never that far off, but it just seemed like everyone in Oregon camped.

Our band had perfected the art of punk-rock camping, throwing a bunch of crap into the van with, like, an hour's notice and just driving out into the mountains, where we'd drink beer, burn food, jam on our instruments around the campfire, and sack out under the open sky.

Outside of your relationship with God, the most important relationship you can have is with yourself. I don’t mean that we are to spend all our time focused on me, me, me to the exclusion of others. Instead, I mean that we must be healthy internally—emotionally and spiritually—in order to create healthy relationships with others. Motivational pep talks and techniques for achieving success are useless if a person is weighed down by guilt, shame, depression, rejection, bitterness, or crushed self-esteem. Countless marriages land on the rocks of divorce because unhealthy people marry thinking that marriage, or their spouse, will make them whole. Wrong. If you’re not a healthy single person you won’t be a healthy married person. Part of God’s purpose for every human life is wholeness and health. I love the words of Jesus in John 10:10: “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” God knows we are the walking wounded in this world and He wants the opportunity to remove everything that limits us and heal every wound from which we suffer. Some wonder why God doesn’t just “fix” us automatically so we can get on with life. It’s because He wants our wounds to be our tutors to lead us to Him. Pain is a wonderful motivator and teacher! When the great Russian intellectual Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was released from the horrible Siberian work camp to which he was sent by Joseph Stalin, he said, “Thank you, prison!” It was the pain and suffering he endured that caused his eyes to be opened to the reality of the God of his childhood, to embrace his God anew in a personal way. When we are able to say thank you to the pain we have endured, we know we are ready to fulfill our purpose in life. When we resist the pain life brings us, all of our energy goes into resistance and we have none left for the pursuit of our purpose. It is the better part of wisdom to let pain do its work and shape us as it will. We will be wiser, deeper, and more productive in the long run. There is a great promise in the New Testament that says God comes to us to comfort us so we can turn around and comfort those who are hurting with the comfort we have received from Him (see 2 Corinthians 1:3–4). Make yourself available to God and to those who suffer. A large part of our own healing comes when we reach out with compassion to others.

Returning from a hunting trip, Orde-Lees, traveling on skis across the rotting surface of the ice, had just about reached camp when an evil, knoblike head burst out of the water just in front of him. He turned and fled, pushing as hard as he could with his ski poles and shouting for Wild to bring his rifle. The animal—a sea leopard—sprang out of the water and came after him, bounding across the ice with the peculiar rocking-horse gait of a seal on land. The beast looked like a small dinosaur, with a long, serpentine neck. After a half-dozen leaps, the sea leopard had almost caught up with Orde-Lees when it unaccountably wheeled and plunged again into the water. By then, Orde-Lees had nearly reached the opposite side of the floe; he was about to cross to safe ice when the sea leopard’s head exploded out of the water directly ahead of him. The animal had tracked his shadow across the ice. It made a savage lunge for Orde-Lees with its mouth open, revealing an enormous array of sawlike teeth. Orde-Lees’ shouts for help rose to screams and he turned and raced away from his attacker. The animal leaped out of the water again in pursuit just as Wild arrived with his rifle. The sea leopard spotted Wild, and turned to attack him. Wild dropped to one knee and fired again and again at the onrushing beast. It was less than 30 feet away when it finally dropped. Two dog teams were required to bring the carcass into camp. It measured 12 feet long, and they estimated its weight at about 1,100 pounds. It was a predatory species of seal, and resembled a leopard only in its spotted coat—and its disposition. When it was butchered, balls of hair 2 and 3 inches in diameter were found in its stomach—the remains of crabeater seals it had eaten. The sea leopard’s jawbone, which measured nearly 9 inches across, was given to Orde-Lees as a souvenir of his encounter. In his diary that night, Worsley observed: “A man on foot in soft, deep snow and unarmed would not have a chance against such an animal as they almost bound along with a rearing, undulating motion at least five miles an hour. They attack without provocation, looking on man as a penguin or seal.

He leaned his head against the rock. Christ, when was the last time he’d seen the humor in life? And now, of all places, in an enemy camp, with a strange woman who made him burn. Burn with desire. Burn with need. A desire and need not only for her and her body, but for something he couldn’t quite name.

The musical and the production embraced cheap bohemianism, and a clever, similarly minded marketing campaign sold cheap tickets to anyone who wanted to camp out on the street outside the run-down Nederlander Theater, which is right up the street from the gritty Port Authority Bus Terminal and was frequently populated by homeless people at the time. An astonishing number of young audience members enthusiastically took up the challenge, often sleeping on the street all night, and often for a remarkable number of repeat visits. According to Elizabeth Wollman, the marketing campaigns for rock musicals often have to be particularly innovative because of the difficulties of selling this kind of musical, and Rent was no exception.8 But the invitation to join the onstage community of Rent—the invitation for the audience to imagine themselves as the offstage counterparts to the characters—was an easy leap. That invitation is built into the story, the lyrics, and the performance style of the songs in the show, which were sung either directly to the audience, at standing microphones set downstage left and right, or into the obvious radio microphones the actors wore on their heads, with the accompaniment of an onstage rock band.

The first campsite is at mile 7.0 (6,180), but it is small and does not have a nearby water source. The trail continues climbing, following a series of switchbacks until reaching a bench known as Lenny’s Rest in honor of Eagle Scout Leonard Southwell, at mile 7.9 (6,543). There is an intersection here with Indian Creek Trail #800, a single-track sometimes used as an alternate to Waterton Canyon. The trail then descends, crossing Bear Creek at mile 8.7 (6,177). This is the last reliable water source until the end of Segment 1 at the South Platte River. There are several good campsites in this area. At mile 9.8 (6,689) the CT begins to parallel and then occasionally cross West Bear Creek. There is a good, dry campsite at mile 11.8 (7,309) near leaning rocks. The trail continues climbing to a ridge at mile 12.6 (7,517), the segment’s highest point. From here, the CT descends 4 miles before reaching a gentle, grassy slope on a hillside with possible campsites at mile 16.6 (6,240) offering the convenience of river water a short distance below. Travel another 0.2 mile before reaching Douglas County Rd 97 and the South Platte River Trailhead, the end of Segment 1, at mile 16.8 (6,117). From here, the trail continues over the river on the Gudy Gaskill Bridge, the last water for over 10 miles. Due to private property, there is no camping along the river.

1. FIVE ON A TREASURE ISLAND 2. FIVE GO ADVENTURING AGAIN 3. FIVE RUN AWAY TOGETHER 4. FIVE GO TO SMUGGLER’S TOP 5. FIVE GO OFF IN A CARAVAN 6. FIVE ON KIRRIN ISLAND AGAIN 7. FIVE GO OFF TO CAMP 8. FIVE GET INTO TROUBLE 9. FIVE FALL INTO ADVENTURE 10. FIVE ON A HIKE TOGETHER 11. FIVE HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME 12. FIVE GO DOWN TO THE SEA 13. FIVE GO TO MYSTERY MOOR 14. FIVE HAVE PLENTY OF FUN 15. FIVE ON A SECRET TRAIL 16. FIVE GO TO BILLYCOCK HILL 17. FIVE GET INTO A FIX 18. FIVE ON FINNISTON FARM 19. FIVE GO TO DEMON’S ROCKS 20. FIVE HAVE A MYSTERY TO SOLVE 21. FIVE

Azriel- his hands. The scars, I mean,' I said. 'Where did they come from?' Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly. 'His father had two legitimate sons, both older than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord's wife. For the eleven years that Azriel lived in his father's keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no light. They let him out for an hour every day- let him see his mother for an hour once a week. He wasn't permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he was eight, his brothers decided it'd be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with oil- and fire. The warriors heard Azriel's screaming. But not quick enough to save his hands.' Nausea swamped me. But that still left him with three more years living with them. What other horrors had he endured before he was sent to that mountain-camp? Were- were his brothers punished?' Rhys's face was as unfeeling as the rock and wind and sea around us as he said with lethal quiet. 'Eventually.

When she tricked me out of my powers and left the scraps, it was still more than the others. And I decided to use it to tap into the minds of every Night Court citizen she'd captured, and anyone who might know the truth. I made a web between all of them, actively controlling their minds every second of every day, every decade, to forget about Velaris, to forget about Mor, and Amren, and Cassian, and Azriel. Amarantha wanted to know who was close to me- who to kill and torture. But my true court was here, ruling this city and the others. And I used the remainder of my powers to shield them all from sight and sound. I had only enough for one city, one place. I chose the one that had been hidden from history already. I chose, and now must live with the consequences of knowing there were more left outside who suffered. But for those here.... anyone flying or travelling near Velaris would see nothing but barren rock, and if they tried to walk through it, they'd find themselves suddenly deciding otherwise. Sea travel and merchant trading were halted- sailors became farmers, working the earth around Velaris instead. And because my powers were focused on shielding them all, Feyre, I had very little to use against Amarantha. So I decided that to keep her from asking questions about the people who mattered, I would be her whore.' He'd done all of that, had done such horrible things... done everything for his people, his friends. And the only piece of himself that he'd hidden and managed to keep her from tainting, destroying, even if it meant fifty years trapped in a cage of rock....'' Those wings now flared wide. How many knew about those wings outside of Velaris or the Illyrian war-camps? Or had he wiped all memory of them from Prythian long before Amarantha? Rhys released my chin. But as he lowered his hand, i gripped his wrist, feeling the solid strength. 'It's a shame,' I said, the words nearly gobbled up by the sound of the city music. 'That others in Prythian don't know. A shame that you let them think the worst.' He took a step back, his wings beating the air like mighty drums. 'As long as the people who matter most know the truth, I don't care about the rest. Get some sleep.' Then he shot into the sky, and was swallowed by the darkness between the stars.

Chapter 2 After stopping for a hot breakfast, Dad and I were ready to hit the mountain and now our anticipation was really building. My heart was beating a little faster and my eyes were alert watching the headlights paint a mountain picture in front of us. We pulled off the highway and made our way up a narrow two-lane road that ran through a little old mining town. About a half mile past the last house, we came to our turn. The road was pretty quiet on this Saturday morning. We only passed two or three trucks on our way to the dirt road. “Here we go!” Dad said, turning the wheel. The blacktop was behind us and we were now on a well-packed gravel road. It started by winding right, then left, and then back right again. It was like riding a rollercoaster up the mountain. We finally came to the end of the gravel and now we were heading up a true back country mountain road. The road was littered with huge rocks Dad had to swerve around and plenty of big gullies where rain had washed the road away. The truck growled in low gear as we crawled our way up the mountain, heading to our camp. I could feel butterflies of excitement building in my stomach with each turn. I rolled down my window to get some fresh air and the crisp mountain breeze instantly sent chills down my back. “Whoa, it’s pretty cold out,” “The truck thermometer says its thirty-six degrees. That sure is a change from the sixty-five degrees we had yesterday at home. But don’t you worry, that Colorado sun always warms it up around noon,” Dad explained. That last half hour seemed to take forever because we could only manage about five or ten miles per hour on the steep, rugged road. The last thing we wanted to do, after all the hours we spent on the journey to elk camp, was get a flat tire or bust a shock. Dad patiently and expertly guided the truck through the obstacle course as we kept climbing up, up, up. Finally we leveled off and I could tell we had reached the top. We made our way around the back side of the mountain and headed down a dead-end road to a grassy field where we have camped before. “I sure hope no one is in our spot.” “I’m not worried. There are plenty of areas to pitch a tent,” Dad replied. “That’s true, but I really like our old spot. It’s flat, which is perfect for the tent, it’s

TRAIL DESCRIPTION Segment 2 begins by crossing the South Platte River on the Gudy Gaskill Bridge, mile 0.0 (6,117 feet), the last water source for over 10 miles. Due to private property, there is no camping along the river. At the end of the bridge, the trail makes right turns and goes under the bridge along the river. Soon after, the trail veers right, leaving the river, and begins climbing steadily up several switchbacks. At mile 1.1 (6,592), pass an abandoned quartz mine and enter the Buffalo Creek Fire area. Note how the forest is beginning to regenerate. At mile 2.5 (6,841), the trail passes a distinct outcrop of pink granite and continues through rolling terrain. There are several good campsites along this stretch of the trail, including a site between boulders at the top of a ridge at mile 5.2 (7,745). From this spot, the Chair Rocks are visible to the west. Raleigh Peak (8,183) is about a mile to the southeast and Long Scraggy Peak (8,812) is about 4 miles to the south. After a slight downhill, The Colorado Trail crosses Raleigh Peak Road at mile 6.0 (7,691). A dry campsite can be found to the left of the trail at mile 6.6 (7,684). At mile 7.3 (7,613), cross an old jeep road and continue through the burned area. Approaching mile 10.1 is a metal building on the right, the unmanned fire station with emergency water spigot on the northeast corner. Turn left at mile 10.1 (7,622), where the trail parallels Jefferson County Rd 126 for 0.3 mile. Cross Jefferson County Rd 126 at mile 10.4 (7,675) and follow the Forest Service dirt road as it bends to the south. Here at mile 10.7 (7,712) a dry campsite can be found. Segment 2 ends when the trail reaches a large parking area at the Little Scraggy Trailhead on FS Rd 550 at mile 11.5 (7,834). There is a toilet and an information display here. This trailhead is a Forest Service fee area. Camping is not allowed in the parking area, but is permissible outside this area in the vicinity of The Colorado Trail.

TRAIL DESCRIPTION NOTE: This description begins at the trailhead parking area and sign just off Lost Park Road. A side trail, marked as the Long Gulch Trail, goes 0.2 mile up the hillside to intersect The Colorado Trail. Thru-hikers will not encounter this trailhead unless they make a specific detour to it. From the trailhead, cross the creek on a small bridge and go uphill for 0.2 mile to the CT, mile 0.0 (10,176 feet). Westbound hikers will turn left at this well-marked intersection. There is a good campsite near here, with water available from the fast-moving creek. Cross the creek about 300 feet past the intersection. The trail enters the Lost Creek Wilderness Area at mile 0.3 (10,263). Then at mile 1.6 (10,380) it heads through a mixed aspen-fir forest with some bristlecone pines. Cross a seasonal stream at mile 2.9 (10,366). There is a good campsite nearby. Cross a marshy area at mile 3.1 (10,387) and streams at mile 3.9 (10,347) and mile 4.5 (10,258). There is another creek at mile 5.3 (10,174) with several good campsites. The CT leaves the Lost Creek Wilderness Area at mile 6.6 (9,816) and crosses Rock Creek at mile 7.3 (9,534) where users should refill their bottles. Turn left when intersecting the Ben Tyler Trail at mile 7.4 (9,519). Ranch buildings are visible ahead. Pass through a Forest Service gate at mile 7.6 (9,555), continue to the Rock Creek Trailhead at mile 8.0 (9,726), and cross the road. Cross Johnson Gulch and a small, seasonal stream at mile 8.4 (9,521). This possible water source is the last until Kenosha Pass and there’s room to camp. Just past the stream, the CT crosses a jeep road and eventually passes through a stand of large aspen trees. At mile 10.6 (9,956) continue straight on the CT at a T road intersection. There are great views of the mountains to the south and west and toward the town of Jefferson. The trail eventually reaches a parking area at mile 14.4 (10,010). It continues to the left, and after crossing US Hwy 285, reaches the end of Segment 5 at mile 14.6 (9,969).

The first explosion detonated in the road directly in front of our bus. There was a blinding flash of light and then a concussion of air that shattered the windshield and knocked me flat. The bus was thrown sideways like a Matchbox car and slammed into the rock face. Dust and debris ballooned through the gap in the window, coating me, Alexander, and everyone in the first three rows. Someone screamed in terror next to me. I thought it was one of the girls in my class, but when I sat up and wiped the dust from my eyes, I found it was Nate Mackey. He was on the floor in the fetal position, white as a sheet. “We’re going to die!” he screamed. “We’re going to die!” I looked to Woodchuck for help. Unfortunately, he was slumped in his seat, unconscious. Perhaps he’d been clocked in the head by a piece of flying debris. Or maybe he’d simply fainted in fear. Whatever the case, he wasn’t going to be any help. A second explosion went off in the road behind the bus. Out the back window, I saw part of the road crumble and plummet into the gorge, cutting off our escape route.