I was sitting in church, only somewhat listening to the announcements, when something that was said caught my attention.
“We have decided to do a pioneer trek! Summer of 2012!! It’s going to be so much fun!!!” Said the overly enthusiastic young women as she handed out the packet of information. I read it over and laughed. It explained how the youth ages 12-18 would dress up as pioneers and pull handcarts through the desert for a week. It was to help us learn of our Mormon ancestors, or something like that. You really think I am going to go on this? I thought in my head. Are you kidding me?
Fast forward to Monday, July 9th at 5:00 in the morning. I was wearing a big cowgirl hat, a long sleeved button up tied at my waist, and the ugliest pink floral floor-length polyester skirt Goodwill had to offer. This was real. I boarded the bus with my best friend Whitney and off we went.
Everyone was put into a “family”. Mine consisted of a “Ma and Pa” (older couples that volunteered), two “aunties,” (twenty-something girls that volunteered) and eight other “brothers and sisters.” (All youth that I had not previously known.) Each day we got up early and walked anywhere from 3-8 miles, pulling a 500 pound handcart that carried all of our stuff, in 100+ degree weather without any shade. Around noon we would stop and set up camp. We attended classes where we learned how to do things like throw machetes, lasso cows, and how to play a few old pioneer hymns on the harmonica. Then as a family we would cook our lunch, which most days was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After lunch we had free time. I would usually get together with friends and hang out. We’d get out our harmonicas and the few guitars that were there and have a little “pioneer jam sesh,” or just sit around spraying each other with water and complain about how hot we were. At night we would sit around the camp fire, telling stories about the pioneers that we were trekking in honor of. This was my favorite time of the day, because we would always become closer as a family.
Everyone was put into a “family”. Mine consisted of a “Ma and Pa” (older couples that volunteered), two “aunties,” (twenty-something girls that volunteered) and eight other “brothers and sisters.” (All youth that I had not previously known.) Each day we got up early and walked anywhere from 3-8 miles, pulling a 500 pound handcart that carried all of our stuff, in 100+ degree weather without any shade. Around noon we would stop and set up camp. We attended classes where we learned how to do things like throw machetes, lasso cows, and how to play a few old pioneer hymns on the harmonica. Then as a family we would cook our lunch, which most days was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After lunch we had free time. I would usually get together with friends and hang out. We’d get out our harmonicas and the few guitars that were there and have a little “pioneer jam sesh,” or just sit around spraying each other with water and complain about how hot we were. At night we would sit around the camp fire, telling stories about the pioneers that we were trekking in honor of. This was my favorite time of the day, because we would always become closer as a family.
About a mile or two in, we started going down this huge hill. We took a little brake to drink some water and take a look over it. Zion was there, just down the hill! I could see it! I could practically taste it! Everyone laughed and cried and hugged one another. We were so excited to finally be there. We decided to start going again, as long as we kept going down this hill we would be there in no time. At least, that’s what we thought. Someone walked down the hill a little bit to scope things out only to find there was a HUGE drop off that we didn’t see. If we would have kept going, who knows what would have happened. Our carts started getting stuck, and everyone was struggling. Out of nowhere, we looked up and saw this whole stampede of boys from the other group come running down the hill to help us. It was the coolest thing, having them come to our rescue like that. But it was only the beginning.
We ended up having to go all the way around the hill, taking us about 6 hours. We lost one of our family members due to a really bad asthma attack about an hour in. An hour after that we ran out of water. People were fainting left and right and everyone was panicking. We lost every boy in our group, our strongest girl, and our ma and pa due to heat exhaustion. All that were left was me, a younger girl, and our aunties. We tried to pull but really couldn’t do much. To our amazement, some of the boys that had already made it to Zion came back and joined our group to help us the rest of the way. I felt such strong gratitude for both the young men that saved us, and our pioneers that went through this every single day for years for our church.
As we finally arrived in Zion, all of the kids that had gotten sick, along with all of the adults, welcomed us in. They clapped and yelled and waved their little handkerchiefs. We parked our carts and ran through the sprinklers! In the green grass!! Once we were all soaking wet, we went to a table full of cookies and cupcakes and homemade root beer and every other fattening treat you could think of. It was absolutely amazing and perfect.
As we finally arrived in Zion, all of the kids that had gotten sick, along with all of the adults, welcomed us in. They clapped and yelled and waved their little handkerchiefs. We parked our carts and ran through the sprinklers! In the green grass!! Once we were all soaking wet, we went to a table full of cookies and cupcakes and homemade root beer and every other fattening treat you could think of. It was absolutely amazing and perfect.
3 comments:
super cook you were able to experience trek! i never was able to in my stake!
www.casideesdays.blogspot.com
stalkayla.blogspot.com
i love that you have a blog at your age and that such an event is documented, i wish i had started blogging younger. so many events (like my own trek experience) went undocumented.
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