About: Alexandra

Alex Muck
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Hi everyone! My name is Alex Muck. I'm 17 years old and in my Junior year here at NRA. My home river is the Yough. I love kayaking (obviously), reading, writing, skiing, food... My favorite thing about kayaking is that there are always new challenges to overcome, and great people to meet.

Posts by Alex Muck:

    Author Archive

    Caballos: Learning about Chilean Culture in Spanish 3!

    Wednesday, November 16th, 2011


    Horses hold a special place in the hearts of those who live in the Maipo Valley. When cars aren’t available, or when goods need to go somewhere hard to access, horses are called upon. In my Spanish 3 class, we spent time learning about horse’s habits, needs, and how they are trained at the Astorga’s animal reserve. Below is an outline, in Spanish and English, of what we learned.
    Horses are magnificent animals. They communicate with their body by moving their ears, tails, and heads. When their ears flatten on their heads, they are mad. They think that we, humans, are always mad because our ears are always on our heads. They have very good senses. They can see 500 meters and hear sounds from a kilometer away. Horses are emotional and intelligent animals. They can feel people’s fear. Interestingly, horses can’t throw up, so they are very susceptible to stomach diseases. For this reason, they eat very slowly and are very selective with what they eat. Horses sleep 3 hours everyday. The sleep standing up, and during the daytime. The can sleep for just minutes at a time. Horses forgive people who hurt them (which is why “breaking” horses by force is a common practice). The “amanse rational” is a way to tame horses that is gaining popularity in Chile. It is a gentle, gradual process that teaches horses to trust humans over a matter of a few days. Stallions are called “potros.” And mares are called “yeguas.”
    Caballos son animales magnificos. Se comunican a traves del cuerpo. Moviendo las orejas, la cola, y la cabeza. Cuando pegan las orejas a la cabeza es cuando estan enojados. Ellos piensan que nosotros los humanos, estamos siempre enojados porque tenemos las orejas pegadas a la cabeza. Tienen muy buen olfato. Ven a quinientos metros y escuchan a un kilometro. Los caballos son animales emocionales e inteligentes. Sienten el miedo de las personas. Lo que es interesante de los caballos, es que no pueden vomitar, ellos mueren por colicos. Por esa razon, ellos comen muy lento y son muy selectivos con lo que comen. Los caballos duermen tres horas todos los dias. Ellos duermen parados durante el dia. Pueden dormir un minuto o dos minutos. Los caballos son animales que perdonan a las personas que les pegan. El amanse racional es una manera de domar al caballo, donde no le pegas, y se esta haciendo muy popular en el mundo. Stallions se les llama los potros, y mares se les llama a las yeguas.

    (all photos courtesy of Carla Astorga)

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    Charge the Horizon: Adventures in Boofing

    Wednesday, November 9th, 2011

    Accelerate.

    Boof.

    Recover.

    Three steps.

    It seems so simple.

    It’s not.

    It’s more like this…

    See the horizon.

    Get excited.

    Consider the consequences.

    They don’t look fun.

    Commit anyway.

    ACCELERATE!

    Think again.

    Experience fear.

    Too late.

    You’re here.

    Get ready.

    Place paddle perpendicular to drop.

    Pull.

    Hard.

    Lift feet.

    Prepare landing gear.

    Pray.

    BOOF!

    Close eyes.

    Anticipate carnage.

    RECOVER!

    There is no carnage.

    Eyes wide.

    Heart thumping.

    Paddle on.

    Exhale…

    Victory fist-pump!

    See, not that simple.

     

    This past week has been a momentous one in my development as a kayaker. Some magical combination of the Lower Maipo River, Chilean hospitality, and wonderful friends and coaches has caused me to acquire a decent boof. There is an incredible feeling of validation that comes with being able to boof. This may sound corny, but I now feel like a “real kayaker.”

    As a member of the “development group” of kayakers, it’s often a little tough when circumstances remind me that I’m not quite as strong, fast, or skilled as most of my friends here. They are incredibly supportive, but the difference in skill is often obvious. The silver lining, though, is that I have the most opportunity to improve, and I have the support of some of the best in the business. This past week, and for most of my time at this school, every day seems to bring a new personal best. I always have something to celebrate. And for that, I am grateful.

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    Hot Springs Day: A Chilean Adventure

    Sunday, November 6th, 2011

    Running.

    “We need to be at camp by 4 or they’re seriously going to leave without us!”

    Hayley, Eric, David and I nimbly picked our way across the rocks to the bridge that would take us back to camp. We were going to the hot springs today, and did not want to be late.

    “Relax guys; you’ve got plenty of time to get your stuff together.”

    Five minutes later, swimsuits on, cameras at the ready, we all crammed into two crew cab pickups, and a van.

    As Pengal drove, dust floated in through the open windows, obscuring the rugged landscape. American pop music busted out of the speakers of the truck, its triviality conflicting comically with the majesty of the snowcapped peaks.

    “Thank god, we’re finally here!”

    Pengal and Filipe, locals who had been traveling with us, got out of the car to negotiate the price for 20 people to go to the hot springs. Strings of rapid Spanish could be heard outside, muffled by the windows of the car.

    “Got it,” Pengal said moments later, smiling smugly.

    Hotsprings, cut into the dusty Chilean hillside

    We drove up the barren hillside to the springs, pools cut into the dirt and rock over hundreds of years. Walking down from the parking lot, the first pool came into view. My stomach twinged. Gross.

    “This is not as pristine as I’d expected…”

    Moments later, drops of hot, salty, coffee brown water were flying towards me.

    “Guys! C’mon!”

    I dipped a foot in tentatively. My body, chilled by the mountain air, then acted of its own accord and hopped into the mucky pool without further hesitation.

    Relaxing in Coffee brown water of Chilean Hotsprings

    My muscles relaxed, the feeling of just-too-hot bathwater settling into my bones, melting away the stress of the day.

    Steam tickled the inside of my nose,

    “Ah-choo!”

    Soon, the heat became overwhelming. It was suffocating warm.

    “Want to check out the other pools?” I asked Sara hopefully

    We went to the one that was below the first, hopping in quickly to evade the chilly air.

    “Much better” I said

    “And less muddy” Sara agreed.

    All too soon it was time to dry off and eat dinner. I got out of the pool and sprinted to the changing room as goose bumps covered my skin. After the water dried, I felt like a potato chip. Crispy and lightly salted.

    After a simply delicious dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches and little Chilean cookies that tasted like s’mores, we headed home, back out the gate, back down dry, gritty roads, at speeds that pinned us to the sides of the car on every corner. We traveled back through a wonderland of mountains and valleys, streams and rivers. There was a certain euphoria coming home that night. Maybe it was the water, melting away stress and inhibitions. Maybe it was the mountains. Or maybe it was because I was realizing yet again that I was the luckiest girl on earth. I was in Chile, in November, kayaking and going to high school.

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    Chile: Fun, Friendly, Awesome!

    Sunday, October 30th, 2011

    Hi All!

    Yesterday, after an exceedingly long flight (three hours to Dallas, then 10 to Santiago, with a 7 hour layover in between), we arrived in Chile!! We all collected our gear, went through customs, and headed to the bus. On our way to the Maipo Valley we traveled through what I can only describe as the suburbs of Santiago. Colorful handpainted signs lined the streets of well worn homes and apartment buildings, and billboards in Spanish advertised movies and cell phones and brands of clothing, much like in the states. Department stores abounded; we stopped at one that was the Chilean equivalent of a Lowes.  The smoggy sky obscured mountains on either side of the flat, densely populated area around us. Soon, there were more trees, and fewer buildings, and the street began to slope upward slightly. We stopped at a small restaurant called Terrazza, and I had my first taste of Chilean cooking. Dave ordered us all empanadas, which are bread shells filled with meat, cheese, eggs and olives. They smelled delicious and tasted pretty good as well, but the briny taste of olives and eggs soon lost its allure.

    Twenty minutes later, after having teachers get out of the bus repeatedly to check that the kayaks on the roof of the bus didn’t interfere with power lines, I heard Hayley saying next to me,

    “We’re so close, 300 more yards… Maybe 500… We’re so close… There it is!!!”

    There it was, the wood carved sign announcing that we had arrived at Cascadas de las Animas, which roughly translates to the Cascades of the Spirits. We had to wait a while for people to clear off the platforms we would be using, but otherwise, all was well. The sharp, rocky faces of the mountain surrounded us on both sides, and the Maipo River, creamed coffee brown, flowed in a canyon nearby. Our platforms have electricity and little wash stations, which are really nice, and there are nice showers and bathrooms a short walk away. There’s also Wifi at the restaurant, which is why you are seeing this right now. The days are sunny, but when the sun goes down, it gets very chilly (pun TOTALLY intended). There are dogs everywhere, some stray some with collars; we have one that looks like a Rottweiler mix that has taken up residence as a guard dog under our picnic bench.

    Overall, things are going great. I’ll be paddling the Lower Maipo soon, and classes have been going well. We learned the names of some trees here in Spanish Class, and we are doing research about the damming project for Government and Literature. It’s so amazing to be in a school where you can bring your environment into class.

    Adios for now!

    Alex

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    Acceptance

    Saturday, October 29th, 2011

    Just as we were about to start the drive home, Dave invited us to come see everyone surf the New River Dries.  After a short drive to the put-in, I was impressed and amused to see how quickly everyone got geared up and into the water. I had not brought my boat, but a few people asked if I wanted to borrow their gear.  I politely declined, citing that I didn’t have a swimsuit, and driving home in wet clothes would be less than pleasant. The real reason though, was that I had seen the waves they were paddling on, and they were WAY out of my league. Kayak camp on the Lower Yough for the last two summers had not prepared me to surf, paddle and roll in the massive wave trains of the Dries.

    Instead, I walked along the banks, gawking like the newbie I was as the students and teachers threw huge tricks on the waves. Eventually I found a good rock to sit on, and continued watching, transfixed, wishing I was kayaking too. Dave came over and sat down next to me, handing me an envelope.

    I opened it absentmindedly, preoccupied with watching the surfing, but as I read the first words, my eyes went wide. This wasn’t just any letter. This was an acceptance letter. I remember smiling, tearing up a bit in spite of myself. I walked over to my parents.

    “Congrats, honey,” said my mom, trying to be excited for me.

    “What did I tell you; nothing to worry about.” My dad said, trying to contain a smile. He was nearly as happy as I was, but he didn’t want to get my hopes up about going.

    Too late. I was hoping.

     

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    The Visit

    Saturday, October 29th, 2011

    After the picnic ended shortly after noon, my family and I piled into the car and drove toward Fayettville. It was supposed to be a pretty short drive, but when we finally pulled into Dave’s driveway we were exhausted. We had missed a couple of turns, had needed to call Dave three times for directions, and had been driving windy mountain roads for two hours too long.

    Upon our arrival, I got out of the car, not quite sure what to expect. Dave came out to meet us, and he gave us a tour. Meals were cooked by student-teacher teams in his house and classes were conducted in a common room and outside on the porches. The girls stayed in “the yurt” a canvas and wood structure perched on a platform in the woods behind his house, and the boys had the options of tenting or staying in the bunkhouse, a large room attached to the garage.  Kayaks were strewn everywhere, gear was hung out to dry on clotheslines, and paddles were leaned up against the garage. It was rather chaotic, but at the same time, it was a sight of unfathomable beauty.

    I met some of the students, most of them were absorbed in their school work, but one of the girls, Hayley, made a point of making me feel welcome. Before we left, she gave me her email address, “Just in case you have any questions. I remember I had loads before I came, and there was no one to ask.”

    I always knew kayakers were a friendly bunch, but the fact that she had gone out of her way to make me feel more comfortable meant a lot. Now, Hayley is my classmate and a great friend.

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    The Waiting

    Friday, October 28th, 2011

    The second I closed the door of the mailbox, envelope with my application tucked neatly inside, I started to have second thoughts.

    What if I wasn’t good enough at kayaking? I had my roll, but it wasn’t quite solid, and I could count the rivers I’d paddled on one hand.

    What if my grades weren’t good enough? They have been straight A’s since sixth grade, but it just goes to show how much I wanted to be accepted.

    What if I forgot to sign the last page, dot my i’s, cross the t’s?

    Eventually though, I came to the realization that the situation was out of my hands, and I relaxed. And waited. Impatiently.

    “Have you heard anything yet?” I’m not sure how many times I asked that question; it’s a wonder my parents didn’t lose their minds. At some point, they had both gotten the hint. This was not going to blow over, I wanted to go. Badly.

    “You’re serious about this, Alex?” my dad asked one night.

    “Yes…” I said, carefully.

    “I thought so; your mom’s not going to be too happy.”

    “I know…”

    “We’re headed to West Virginia next month for a picnic for work–if I got it arranged, would you want to visit the school?”

    “Of course!”

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    The Application

    Thursday, October 27th, 2011

    In the weeks following the discovery, I joked with my parents about how much better school would be if I were going to New River Academy. They didn’t take my comments seriously, and I didn’t expect them to. It wasn’t an option, and definitely not for next year! Did I really have any hope that my parents would let me leave Saxonburg to travel the world at 16 years old? The chances were slim to none.

    But was there a chance?

    I began finding myself checking the blog when I came home from school, looking for updates, imagining how cool it would be to do what those students were doing. I waited, full of anticipation, for the destinations for next year to be posted, hoping inwardly that they would not be too exotic. All was lost if it was another trip to Asia or Africa. The day I found out that the tentative destinations were Ecuador and Chile was the first day I took a serious look at the application.

    It’s just South America, I thought to myself, I could do that…

    I started typing, filling in as much of the application as I could without the help of my parents. I had never wanted anything quite as much as I wanted to go to NRA, but the whole time I kept telling myself “Don’t expect anything to come of this, you just want to learn a little more about it.”

    When I had filled out all the student portions of the application, I brought it into school, mulling over whether to ask my parents about it or to just let it go.

    “What’s that?” asked my friend Lucy.

    “Ah, nothing, just an application for this school.”

    “That’s not nothing, let me see here–Kayaking High School? What?”

    So I explained to her what New River Academy was, the best I could, and instead of looking at me like I was insane, bless her, she asked if she could proofread my application.

    A few weeks ago while at school in West Virginia, I got an email from her, and she told me what she had really thought at the time:

    “I thought you were .001% crazy when you told me about New River Academy last year in American History (I believe that’s where we were.).  Actually, drop the decimal and invert those numbers.  I thought you were totally crazy.”

    Even though she questioned my sanity, she had supported me. And for that I will always be grateful.

    Now confident in the grammatical correctness of my application, I broached the subject with my parents.

    “This isn’t because I want to go there next year or anything; I just want to get a bit more information. It could be a great opportunity for Senior year, or maybe Gap Year.”

    That was how I presented it, and that was all I could let myself hope for, but somewhere in the back of my head, a voice whispered “Maybe next year?”

    Both of my parents reluctantly agreed to fill their parts out, and a couple weeks later (I am certain they were stalling, hoping it would blow over) we finally sent out the application.

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    The Discovery | How I found out about New River Academy

    Wednesday, October 26th, 2011

    This is the first post of a seven part series chronicling the decision and admission process for me and my family. What started as a simple creative nonfiction/memoir assignment for honors lit snowballed into the story you will be seeing unfold over the next few days. Enjoy!

    “Alex, come have a look at this,” my dad says from the kitchen.

    I stay in the study, finishing some homework for the next day, and hope it’s nothing important.

    “Seriously Alex!”

    I get up, disgruntled, and trudge down the hall to the kitchen table. I peer over my dad’s shoulder at the webpage open on his iPad. We had been looking for a teen kayaking camp for next summer, so it didn’t surprise me to see that he had found me a few options.

    “Look at this one,” He pokes the screen, pulling up a page headed: “New River Academy, a college preparatory boarding school for grades 9-12”

    I roll my eyes, he was ambushing me. “I told you, I don’t want to go to boarding school. I like Knoch, and I’ve already been there two years…”

    “Finish reading…” My dad says patiently.

    “—whoa. That looks AWESOME!”

    “Doesn’t it?!”

    “But c’mon Dad, I’d never go there. It’s too good to be true.”

    “You’re probably right… Doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

    My dad and I then proceeded to page through the website, becoming more amazed by the second.

    Family Paddle with my brother and my dad

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    Hello from the Ottawa River

    Thursday, October 13th, 2011

    Hi everyone! My name is Alexandra Muck, and this is my first year at New River Academy. I first found the school when I was looking for summer kayaking camps. I was amazed and it seemed too good to be true, but I kept reading all the updates, and learning about it, and here I am! After just two weeks here, I am eternally grateful for my parents for supporting me and allowing me to come.

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New River Academy
Rt. 2 Box 245
Fayetteville, WV 25484
(304)- 574-0403
Fax: (304) 513-2247
New River Academy

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