Trek Post --- The End

The other day, Brother C asked me if I had fun on Trek. I find that fun isn't the right word to describe the experience of Trek. Hard and hot, dusty and dirty, worthwhile, amazing, and "push you to the edge of your own personal type of difficult" might be better ways to describe Trek.

For me the difficulty and the joy in Trek came from being responsible for eight other people, people younger and mostly less experienced with “outdoor adventure” than the folks I normally go out with on these types of trips.

I had prepared myself by walking about five miles a night several nights a week in the months before. I read about pioneers and pondered to understand why we go on Trek as modern day Saints.

I came to the conclusion that it is for several reasons: 1) To show us that we are capable of doing physically hard things. 2) To remind us that others are around to help us through hard things. And 3) To help us understand that having and living the Gospel is worth giving up everything, including your life.

So out we all went into the dust and heat of the Owyhee Desert, dressed as pseudo pioneers to pretend for a few days and gain more perspective on what is really important. And one thing that was highly important to me was to return my young charges to their parents in one -- unblistered, and unsunburned piece.

Life on the trail went along its dusty way and was pretty good and easy for me. I was blessed with a family of quiet but strong and amazing youth, with whom I would be thrilled to spend another long weekend, somewhere beside the desert pushing a handcart. They are excellent young people who have the talent and abilities to do well in their lives.

I was tired and ready to be off my feet the by second day, but I was happy, because I knew I only had one more day to get through and one more meal to cook. And while that was true,  the third day turned out to be the hardest for me.

By the third day, I was somewhat dehydrated. I was worried about two of my “sons”, N and S, who were struggling with walking in the heat, but fortunately building relationships with two wonderful members of the Bishopric. I wondered about the strength and stamina of my husband and Z, who had literally hauled the cart together for most of the way. I felt concern for the two absolutely amazing young girls, S and H, who spent nearly the whole trip being the cart brakes. I was worried about MW's feet and MS’s blood sugar. And I wondered if CS was having any fun at all.

Maybe the last mile of trail was planned to be a metaphor for life. It certainly became one to me. I saw it as the last part of my journey in this painful Trek life. The celestial “green weedy grass” kingdom was before me. I wanted to move through this veil of tears and get on with things like resting in the shade and drinking ICE WATER. (Seen any old people with the same basic desire lately?) But we kept stopping. And Stopping. And STOPPING… And grumbling.

Finally we saw the people on the other side of the river. 

Our dead. 

Waving at us. 

Cheering us on.

 It was heartening. 

Until I realized that we were not finished with the Trek yet. Grumble.

We had to rescue those waving dead people.  Grumble. Grumble. GRUMBLE!!!

This was not on my list of things to do today. (Let's not even go into the possible parallels with getting oneself to the temple to do work for the kindred dead.)

My attitude was less than cheerful as I walked down toward the water to listen to the vignette about the river crossing. I had to scold myself and say a little prayer for strength. Thankfully God loves all his children, even the grumpy, grumbly ones. He sent a cooling breeze almost immediately and my emotions were softly soothed.

I was able to stand patiently waiting for this last piece of Trek trail life to end.

Because I had been reluctant to even go to the river, (yes I was seriously entertaining thoughts of picking up the blasted cart myself and walking alone into Hy Cliffs), I was near the back of the group at the river. When I turned around, I discovered that the parents of all the youth on Trek, being unable to contain their excitement to see their kids, snuck up behind us.

I cannot truly express the euphoria that swept over my body as I turned and saw them. I was no longer responsible for these young people or the cart!

As far as I was concerned any or all of them could have had the cart to push and pull, but my daughter, who was finally recovered from the up and down blood sugar levels, wanted me to be in the yoke with Tad “like the picture on our Trek shirt”, so I want to publicly thank Z for graciously giving up his rightful spot, and allowing me to take it.

I want to also thank TM, RL, and anyone else who pushed on the sides and back to get us the last little way into camp. (I couldn’t see you, and at the time I didn’t care, but I felt your help.) I also am grateful for CA watching over MS on that last day when she needed medical help. Thank you to CH, who during that last difficult day, became our adopted son for a few hours and blessed us all with his pushing and braking talents. 

Appreciation also goes to M and V for taking such good care of E, my own fair skinned boy, who returned with no sunburn or problem. And C and B for watching out for D. I never worried about them.

And finally to my visiting teacher-- Thanks for packing your dishpans...and sharing.