Frozen Campout

The mountains have always brought me peace and comfort, in fact my whole family has enjoyed the wonders of God’s creative hand. This love for the outdoors came from an early age. My dad’s parents worked as forest rangers, so my father liked to take us up to visit them at their campground as often as possible. This combined with the countless hours I spent in a crudely made fort in the backyard, my parents liked to call “the think time fort,” provided me with the opportunities that gave me not only a love for the great outdoors, but the abilities to survive in the cruelest of elements.

It was late spring and we were headed to the Uintahs for a long day of hiking and a night of sleeping in the freezing cold. The occasion was a scout camp, but my dad liked to turn my scout camps into a family adventure. He loved to support me in my adventures and brought all of my younger siblings along so that we could spend quality time as a family.

“We’ll take up the rear,” my dad called to the other leaders as we all got situated in the trailhead parking lot. We knew in advance that this was going to be a fairly technical hike and that my 3 year old sister and 6 year old brother might run into some complications on the three mile hike in to Wall Lake. In anticipation of this great hike my dad had fashioned a type of modern day miniature handcart that actually had the appearance of an old fashioned, wooden wheelbarrow. He had our sleeping bags, tents, food and accessories strapped neatly to this invention. As a crowning jewel he threw Marne, my sister on top and proceeded to intricately weave the ropes around her limbs to snug her down tightly to the handcart so that she would not topple off on our way up the mountain. To Marne’s credit she never did get tired off looking down at the passing mountainous terrain for the next few hours, as she was strapped face down sprawling over our equipment.

“This is going to be fun,” I sarcastically commented to Dallin as we began our assent.

Five minutes later the shellac that Dad had coated the handcart in to waterproof our expedition, got its first test. The river was much deeper than Dad had anticipated as Marne soon found out as her face soon became immerged in the ice cold glacier water. As soon as Dad crossed he knew that it would be too deep for Alex’s stubby little legs, so he threw a u-turn down and returned across the river.

“Hold your breath,” Dad yelled at Marne as she went under for the second time.

Now on the same side as the river as his frightened children, Dad threw Alex on top of Marne’s back and slung Dallin over his left shoulder. “You’re on your own,” Dad yelled back at me as Marne went under again and Alex started screaming as his feet went in the water.

Being late spring instead of early spring the river was actually a warm freezing and the rapids were much calmer than they would have been just days before, so I was actually only pushed down the river some twenty-five feet before I grabbed on to some tree branches and pulled myself out of the water. I ran to catch up to my herd as they were quite a distance ahead of me by now.

“Foot- sack- it Bryan! Where have you been? This is no time to go off for a leisurely swim. Look at you, you are soaking wet, you are going to regret being wet when that storm rolls in,” my dad not so calmly stated while pointing to the daunting horizon that seemed to be laughing at my hopelessness and need for warmth.

Just as my dad had predicted by the time we reached the camp the first drops of rain began to fall. Within minutes the wind had picked up and the rain had turned to a wet, slushy snow. In this context the word wet means “moistened, covered, or soaked with water or some other liquid.” Being in this state, covered or soaked with water or some other liquid a lesser man would have been discouraged and reduced to persecute others with incessant whining.

“Dad, can we start a fire now?’ I bravely asked.

“Not until we get our tent up.”

“But it’s so cold, I can’t even move my fingers.” I calmly stated.

“Get the tent out.”

The only way that I can think of describing the rest of that night would be eternal misery, and remember that is coming from the toughest person I currently know. I don’t think I slept for more than 6 hours that night on the lumpy, scolding rocks that my dad had put in my sleeping bag. On the other hand, my dad had such a restful, peaceful night that he was able to get up by 3:00 to get the fire going and our breakfast ready.

To this day I still wake up in a cold sweat at times remembering that horrible sleepless night. Since that day in the river I have also had to bear the burden of a numb lip that causes frequent drooling and of being slightly cross-eyed. These traits did not only determine the outcome of high school dances, but also continue to work against me in job interviews as people do not understand that my disabilities do not affect my ability to be an effective principal.