This blog post has nothing to do with Cambodia. It is the story of a character-defining hike 35 years ago. Down the mountains of the High Uintahs. In the rain. At midnight.
Summer 1982 (or could be 1981 or 1983). I had been asked to be a church leader/guide for about 25 girls (ages 15 - 18) and their leaders on a hike to the Rasmussen Lakes in the High Uintah moutains of Eastern Utah. One week prior to that hike, my friend Gary Smith and I took a practice hike to the lakes to confirm the trails and learn the terrain. We noted the "blazes" on the trees as they marked a light trail through 4.5 miles of pine trees and granite rocks (a "blaze" is an intentional scar made by trail makers who hatchet off a 12 - 18 inch section of bark on a pine tree, about 10 feet above the ground. The "blaze" exposes the light-colored wood under the bark). The trip was beautiful, fun and uneventful (although tip-toeing across the 5-log bridge over a thrashing creek 10 feet below at the beginning of the hike was a kinda nerve-wracking). I looked forward to the hike with the girls the following week.
On the day of the hike, I checked the packs of the girls to make sure they weren't taking a bunch of unnecessary stuff that would weigh them down as they hiked to an elevation of 10,000 feet. Unbelievable. I removed six-packs of soda, Costco-sized cans of pork and beans, and enough outfits to last a week (we were only going overnight). Confident that the packs were now manageable, we started up the trail. The walk across the log bridge was like a "rite of passage" which set a great tone for the trek.
The girls were fun all the way up to the lakes - laughing, singing and constant chatter. No health issues other than some mosquito bites and few small blisters. At the camp site by the lakes, I asked the leaders to tell the girls to get their tents set up, gather firewood, store the wood in a sheltered place (under a tree), and get things prepared for supper. Once that was done they could go play and have fun for an hour before dinner. Didn't work. Only a few put up tents and no one gathered firewood. I reminded the leaders that we were in the High Uintahs, and rain could come suddenly at any time. The girls should get their tents up. But their instructions fell on teen-aged ears (which means the sound never enters the head). It was play, play, play.
I finished my dinner of fresh lake trout and baked potatoes (tin foiled in the fire with Lawry's seasoning salt) around 7:30, when the first raindrops started to fall. I helped stash firewood and finish tent set up with those I could, but it was too late for some. They hunkered down in their tents - cold and hungry. I hunkered down in my little one-man springbar tent that can weather almost any storm. Inside the tent I have a 4 inch foam pad and a down sleeping bag. I'm toasty and dry. As the rain hammers down, I fall asleep.
At 10:30 p.m. there's a "knock"on my tent door. Sister Ferguson, the Young Women's President, asks if I think we should pack up and go home. She said the girls were wet, cold and hungry. I told her it was her call - and I would support whatever decision she and her counselors made. She left, but came back 10 minutes later and said that we should go.
We packed up the best we could, but several girls left their sleeping bags and other gear behind (the bags were too wet and heavy to haul down the mountain). We counted noses to make sure everyone was there and I gave instructions for everyone to stay in a line and keep track of who was ahead and behind them (because it was still raining and we would be hiking down in total darkness). We said a prayer, asking God to help us get back safely, poncho'd up and started down the trail.
I quickly learned that the trail was much harder to find in the dark than it was in the light (thank goodness I installed fresh batteries in my small flashlight before we left). I stopped the group on multiple occasions when I felt we had wandered off the path. I had them wait while I searched the trees - looking for the blaze marks. Those were tense minutes for me. I felt the weight of 25 women and their families who expected me to get them home safe. I don't think the women were worried about my getting them lost - but I was.
At first, the girls were singing and laughing as we walked down in the rain. But after an hour of hiking in the dark, the singing stopped. Soon, it was silent except for the occasional sniffle of a cold and tired girl. About 2 a.m. I heard a growl and a bark. I stopped the group, then quietly moved closer to the sound as the dog continued to bark (it was a regular dog). Then a different sound came out of the darkness - a woman's voice. It said, "are you lost too?" I responded, "no," then she said, "we're lost."
The woman, her three young children and a dog had started up the trail late in the day, and got caught in the rain (her husband had dropped them off and planned to be back two days later to pick them up). They had wandered off the trail and tried to set up their tent in a semi-clearing - hoping to ride out the storm until morning. They were huddled together - cold, hungry and frightened - under their makeshift tent. The dog was their only protection. They were in no condition to hike down the mountain with us, so we gave them what food we had and helped them set up their tent correctly so they could stay dry. They gave us a phone number for the husband and we said we would call him when we arrived back in town. We gave them directions back to the trail so they could walk down in the morning - and we left. I worried over them for hours until I finally got word that they were safely back home.
As we continued our downward trek, the trail became much more defined. We no longer had to stop and look for blaze marks on the pine trees. Soon we reached the log bridge, which was the last obstacle to cross before getting to the cars. And it was the most terrifying. The creek 10 feet under the bridge was churning even harder than before because of all the rain. It's dark and the logs are slippery. The bridge is only wide enough for one person, so the girls would have to walk across one-at-a-time. No siderails. It was only 20 feet from side-to-side, but every girl on that trip would tell you it was one of the most frightening things they had ever experienced. All flashlights focused on the bridge so the girls could see. I went first then stationed myself about 5 feet downstream just in case someone fell in. Fortunately all made it across. We got to our vehicles 20 minutes later, piled everyone in and headed down.
With the adrenaline rush over, most of the girls fell asleep on they way home. Not me. I pondered the events surrounding the hike and marveled at the miracles we had experienced. 1. Decision to make a preparatory hike to learn the terrain. 2. Someone had "blazed" the trees to identify the trail. 3. Someone had taught me about trail blazes (and I listened). 4. I had impressions of when we were off the trail. 5. In total darkness we found the trail - every time. 6. We came across a family that was lost and were able to help them enough to keep them safe until morning. 7. All 25 of us made it across a wet log bridge without incident. 8. Most importantly, the women leaders were tuned in to the spirit enough to make an inspired decision.
Every person has defining moments in their lives - this was one of mine.
