High Adventure — 1990
One of my truly memorable experiences with Scouts occurred in June 1990. We planned a 4-day biking/hiking high adventure activity, and it exceeded our loftiest aspirations in enjoyment, brotherhood, and physical and emotional challenge. We left our chapel in Sandy early on a Tuesday and biked all the way to Timpanooke Campground in American Fork Canyon, which was a ride 25 miles long with a 4000 foot vertical climb. My legs were quivering uncontrollably by the time we finally arrived at our camp. I had set a goal that I would pedal every inch of the entire trip, not walking or pushing my bike. My resolve was tested many times on the first day alone. We camped at a beautiful spot next to a stream. Three of us adult leaders biked with the boys, and another leader drove our equipment truck.
The next day provided an experience I’ll never forget, and which I have thought of often. Despite being leg-weary from the previous day’s bicycle ride, I had an overwhelming desire to climb to the top of Mount Timpanogos, to experience again the thrill I felt as a teenager in accomplishing this great task. I began recruiting hiking companions, telling them of the hike’s difficulties but also of its splendor. Soon seven scouts and myself, lunches in hand, gathered at the trailhead and began our ascent. Within 15 minutes (I’m being honest), our group of 8 had dwindled to 3, with five deciding to sit in camp and eat licorice rather than to exert themselves and enjoy the rewards thereof. Interestingly, the two boys who toiled on with me were the ONLY two who had valid reasons for turning back: one had medication-dependent asthma and the other had Osgood-Slaughters disease, a painful joint condition! How proud I was of these 2 courageous young men! They would not quit. We had set a goal to reach the summit, and they would not be deterred. We sweated, we struggled, we hiked through occasional calf-deep snow drifts, but simultaneously we enjoyed clean air, breathtaking vistas, and the joy of strenuous effort. We at length arrived in the beautiful alpine valley which provides a brief respite before making the final ascent to the saddle and the summit. We were leg-weary and sore, but undaunted. I happened to notice a small stream about 50 feet from the trail which seemed to disappear into some rocks. Upon investigating, we found a pristine spring. Being fairly certain that the water would be potable, we knelt and drank deeply. Never before or since has water tasted so delicious. This water was so clean, pure, and cold that it actually tasted sweet. I remarked to my companions that no one of us would ever again taste water so refreshing and pure. It was a fitting reward for two very courageous young men (and one old reprobate). That certainly must be the type of water the Savior had in mind when he compared water to eternal life.
At this point, the better part of wisdom would have been to congratulate ourselves on a great accomplishment and head back, but we three were not to be deterred from reaching the summit. After a brief lunch of cheese and bread, we pushed onward toward our goal. We had to negotiate deep snow banks from this point on. I reached the saddle about 3 minutes ahead of Brock and Travis, and I had the joy of watching their faces as they first viewed the spectacular panorama of Utah Valley and Utah Lake which stretched before us. As we rested and enjoyed the view, we noticed an unusual phenomenon. A steady updraft was blowing constantly past us, originating in the valley below. Caught in this updraft were unsuspecting flying insects and small birds. These critters would go whizzing past us at great speed, and they would immediately try to retrace their paths, only to be hurled back by the steady updraft. Over and over they would try to fight the draft, only to be rebuffed. A breed of white butterfly and some small sparrows were the most persistent, but none that we watched succeeded in overcoming the draft. We sat spellbound as we watched this struggle of nature repeat itself over and over. I have thought since about an analogous situation in our lives. Some unsuspecting souls get caught in an updraft of sin, complacency, or disbelief which seems gentle and innocent at first, but soon they find themselves being swept along at ever-increasing speed in a direction they never willingly would have chosen. Soon they’re hurled into the most undesirable of circumstances, and despite their best efforts, find themselves unable to battle the current and return to their previous blissful state.
The summit was now in sight, and onward we pushed with burning lungs, aching legs, and joyous hearts. Not long after we had left the saddle, we spotted a beautiful white glider that had apparently taken off from Heber and had ridden the air currents up to the crest of Timpanogos. The pilot of the plane spotted us before long, and he made ten or twelve passes right over us, not more than 50 yards above us. He would give us a smile and a “thumbs up” sign each time he passed by. The only audible sound was the whisper of air rushing over the wings of the glider. He gave us a tip of his wings as we reached the summit and then soared off over the Heber Valley. It was absolutely breathtaking to watch this beautiful craft, and another in a series of remarkable experiences on this wonderful day. We reached the tin hut that sits atop the summit after 6 hours of hiking. What a thrill it was to watch these 2 young men overcome physical ailments to accomplish this very difficult task. I witnessed their ecstasy and then thought of the other 5 boys sitting down in camp lounging and eating licorice. We scratched our names into the wall of the hut, and headed down. Our hike back was long but pleasant, as we talked about our glorious day. When we finally trudged into camp, we were three weary souls, but we had smiles on our faces and satisfaction in our souls.
The next two days found us at Cascade Springs and in Midway for some swimming at the Homestead. We had unknowingly saved our biggest challenge for last — our bike ride from Midway up and over Guardsman Pass. That ride is the hardest thing I have ever done physically, and it ranks high on my list of emotional challenges as well. I had determined that I would pedal all the way, without walking or pushing my bike. The Scouts and Lenny quickly left me behind and I toiled slowly upwards by myself for 4 hours on a very warm summer afternoon. Those were some of the longest hours of my life. My legs and lungs burned as if on fire. Many times I wanted to and could have walked, but I couldn’t bear the thoughts of being a quitter. My two young hiking companions had taught me much about endurance 2 days prior. Many times I could have walked faster then I was pedaling my bike, but I didn’t give in and I rode the whole way. It was a personal victory I will long savor. The trip ended with a beautiful coast all the way down Big Cottonwood Canyon, and a pleasant reunion with our families.
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