Seeing Through the Gray Fog of Cal Poly Early one Monday morning my sleepy classmates and I met at the gate of Poly Canyon. The thick marine layer surrounded our group as our professor led us through the thick gray fog. A crisp breeze pricked my bare cheeks, sending a shiver through my body. We passed the Cerro Vista Apartments, the last Cal Poly buildings I would see for two hours. A feeling of excitement ran through me as we began our hike down the service road and into the canyon, a place just down the road from my dorm that I never knew existed. As we walked deeper into the thick fog, a hidden part of Cal Poly began to reveal itself. Serpentine rock walls rose on both sides of the road, and the stream below began to fill with water. Four does and a stag watched us from the steep slopes. The eucalyptus trees spread a sweet fragrance into the air and the chirping of birds provided gentle background music for the hike. School worries began to fade away. The trail got rough as we started climbing Poly Mountain. My eyes were glued to the ground. Rocks constantly slid beneath my feet waiting for the opportunity to get my feet out from under me. My breathing was getting shorter and my legs were starting to burn from the first real exercise they'd gotten since leaving the house. I didn't know if I would make it up the hill. When we finally stopped for our first break, I collapsed onto the nearest rock and took some time to observe the land around me. I realized I hadn't looked up once during the first quarter of the hike. When we sat down to write I had nothing to describe or meditate on. The thick fog had erased the trail behind us and everything that surrounded it. I was full of regrets. As we continued, I made sure to look around more often. Golden grasses, patches of yucca, grand rock formations, and a lone tree dotted the landscape. We took our second break in a yucca community. When I sat down, one stabbed me in the thigh. Its green leaves were still as if nothing had happened.