4 June – Our first trek arrived this evening. The youth are divided into “families” to which a Ma & Pa are assigned. Each family has their own cart on which they must store all their gear.
The trail boss chose to trek for about a mile and a half off the main road and make camp for the night. The weather was threatening. We got them settled and came home. As soon as we came home it began raining and blowing – blowing hard. We worried all night about our group. Every little while we’d wake up, hear it blowing and raining, say a prayer for the trekkers, turn over, go back to sleep – a scenario which repeated numerous times all through the night. We didn’t get much sleep for worrying about our group.
When we awoke in the morning our lead couple informed us the roads were too muddy for anybody to move any of the support vehicles (water buffalo, porta potty or food vehicle). We hurried over to where our trekkers were, left the truck and hiked into where they were camped. We had to inform them they could not move that day. But, we discovered there were several who had wet sleeping bags. We all decided we would have the kids load the carts, trek to the first main road to the west and we’d load all the wet bags on one cart and get it to the Depot so I could put them in the dryer and hang them around the wood stove.
Come to find out nearly ALL their bags that were wet. There was no way we could get that many bags dry with one dryer and a wood stove.
We went to plan B. We had the brothers load the tarp full of wet bags on the back of the truck. Myself and two of the sisters took the load to town to a laundromat and started feeding the dryers. We discovered there was a second laundromat about a half block away. One of the sisters and I took a bunch of the bags over there and started feeding those dryers the soggiest bags. The less soggy bags we hung on the truck – on the mirror, across the hood, on the bed, etc. and let them dry in the partial sun and breeze. Ever see a truck closeline??? Mean time the first sister spread out her driest bags along the planters in front of the first laundromat and all up and down that little strip mall. After about 3 hours and a HEAP of quarters we had the lot dry.
The second laundromat was also part of a dry cleaning business. When the clerks learned of our predicament they volunteered to dry some of the bags in their big dryer. And, they took no pay for it. So nice of them!!!!!
We laid all the dry bags on the tarp in the back of the truck, ran a rope through the eyelets and pulled it tight, just like closing a string purse. By the time we arrived back near camp, the roads had dried sufficiently that one of the support vehicles could come out to the main road to meet us. We simply rolled the bundle from one truck to the other.
We began calling this experience our “Sleeping Bag Rescue.”
While we were busy drying bags, Arnold took the trekkers and their carts cross country in a round about way back to their camp.
6 June – Thank goodness there was no more rain and things were dry enough we could move the group. They really had a long haul today. They were trekking from 10 am to about 7pm before they made camp. I walked them cross country from camp to what we call the Bottom of Oil Pad Road where they lunched. Arnold took them cross country into Crane Hollow for another potty/water stop. Then they went down the Crane Hollow drainage to an old road up the hill to the top of McKay ridge.
They stopped at the bottom of this hill to prepare for their Women’s Pull. A couple soldiers carrying an old American Flag marched down the hill toward the group and announced they needed to enlist all the men in the “Mormon Battalion.” The boys all dutifully marched up the hill with the soldiers leaving the girls and carts at the bottom.
One of the sisters gave the girls instruction and encouragement explaining they’d have to get the carts to the top all by themselves. There were 5-6 girls per cart which weighed about 500 pounds. Some of the girls became scared of the job before them and began crying even before they started up the hill. The ground was muddy. The traks were uneven and full of ditches. Some could barely get their carts rolling up the hill. If they hit a hump or a rock they had to work to get going again. Many more were crying as they came up the hill. It was easy to see that some simply gritted their teeth and pushed forward. Some leaned so far forward in pulling their carts their bodies were nearly parallel to the ground.
After the girls were part way up the hill, the boys came in sight again. They were instructed to remove their hats and watch silently. As their family’s cart passed they were allowed to walk along side until the trail boss gave them a signal to jump in and assist the girls.
One cart had some really slight girls pulling it. They kept getting stuck. One of the girls pulling the cart right behind them, let go of her cart, and hurried ahead to assist the ones who were struggling. Then, she’d run back and help her own cart. I saw her switch carts several times during the pull. What a trooper!!!!!!!
Later I shared what I’d seen with the trail boss’s wife. She related some additional facts that make this an even more stunning event. Three of the girls on the struggling cart were feeling under the weather which their sweet helper knew. What a stalwart young woman she must be, helping two carts to the top. In the end , all carts reached the top of the hill.
It was so stirring to witness, both Arnold and I had all we could do to keep ourselves from sobbing. What an awesome experience. I told Heavenly Father that it was the trekkers who were supposed to have such awesome experiences, not me. But we feel so blessed we are allowed that blessing, too.
Toward the end of the day, I walked with the group again down the road from the ridge down into the hollow we call the “Dairy Bowl” where they made camp for their last night in a nice sheltered meadow. Much better than their exposed hillside of the last two nights. I all, one of us walked with the group all the way except for about a 2 mile stretch along the road across the top of McKay Ridge.
That night it rained again, gently this time, and caused the roads to be so muddy the porta-potty truck nearly didn’t make it out of their for getting stuck in the mud. But with answered prayers, we got it turned around and were able to proceed. Their testimony meeting at the end of their trek was so sweet. I was sorry to see them leave.
During the trek today, my phone rang. On the other end I heard a babbling child. I finally figure out it was Jacklin who was playing with her mommy’s phone.
We learned two things. #1, the person who opens the gate, must stay to shut the gate until all trekkers have passed through. Each gate has it’s own way of being securely shut and only the one who opens it will know how it’s to be closed. #2. When you make camp, be sure the heavy porta potty trailer is headed out of camp the way it needs to go the next morning.
During the week, one of the bishopric from the ward we attend called and asked us to speak in sacrament this Sunday. He wanted us to tell about our mission. The old wooden spoon story will serve me once again. Some of you have heard this before, some have not. I shall include the “Old Wooden Spoon” story here for those who have not.
Today you have the opportunity to learn this old spoon’s story and the application of the story.
Several decades ago, I found this spoon in a junktique shop in Arkansas. It isn’t fancy, it’s just an old wooden spoon. It isn’t decorated, it isn’t even pretty. Just a plain old wooden spoon. It was already well worn when I found it. Its bowl already had this flat side from being stirred against pan bottoms. I can’t really tell that I’ve worn it off any further in the decades I’ve had it, so it’s been around a long time. Through the years it has become darkly stained with grape juice which does not wash off. As a whole the spoon is a far cry from being perfect.
However when I’m canning, this flattened side of the bowl is absolutely perfect for scraping fruit off the bottom of the pan before it scorches. It’s long handle is absolutely perfect for stirring clear to the bottom of big canning kettles and absolutely perfect for keeping my fingers away from boiling, splattering jelly. The straight shape of the spoon & handle is perfect to slip down the inside of a jelly bag to scrape the fruit free from the bag which allows the juice to drain more readily.
As a whole the spoon is old, beaten, battered and stained, but there are things it can do more perfectly than a beautiful brand new spoon could. It can do them better because of the experiences it has survived.
Just like this old spoon, we have our imperfections, we have been bruised and battered by trials and tribulations, and are certainly not perfect in many ways. But there are still things we can do more perfectly than others. If we live the gospel as well as we can, our experiences and trials will shape, mold and refine us for further service in the kingdom. I believe it behooves us to do our best to live the gospel and do all we can do to serve in our Father’s kingdom – then Heavenly Father will take care of the rest.
This plain, worn, stained old spoon serves me well. It has become my most used, and my most treasured, canning tool.
I hope, when the day of reckoning comes, that I will be found as useful, versatile and long lasting in my Heavenly Father’s service as this spoon is in my kitchen.
The two of us are serving a mission so we can become more useful ‘old wooden spoons’ in our Heavenly Father’s Kingdom.
It was agreed before hand that we’d wear out weekly “missionary clothing” (our pioneer clothing).. Then just before church we learned the First Presidency asked we not use such props (clothing and spoon) when giving talks. Since we did not learn this until the last minute, the Bishopric said it was OK to proceed as planned — this time only. We let the congregation know we weren’t being willfully disobedient.
9 July – Another lovely, sunny, peaceful & restful Sunday. We left early and did a little bird watching on the way to church – and more as we returned.
10 July – Two sunny days in a row. WOW!!!! What a blessing after last week’s weather.
We saw a baby antelope last week, bounding along with its mommy. About all we could see was its little white rump bouncing through the sage brush. As we related this to some of our trekkers, their photographer told how he’d come on a sleeping baby antelope the year before. He was climbing up a hill for a shot, chose to step around what looked like a cow pie and realized the cow pie had eyes. From a distance, they watched the baby for a good while. It did not move until its mommy came back for it.
Mondays are our “get everything ready for this week’s treks” day. Carts to check for mud & garbage, possibly move carts from one staging area to another, water buffalos to clean, camping spots to plan, ourselves to organize, the depot to clean, trucks to clean and service, etc. etc. And, another route to learn. The snow has finally melted sufficiently to utilize our westward route down Trail Hollow to Lost Creek Dam.
While we were on our trek route today, I spotted two more species of birds……Pine Siskin and some kind of a very light colored hawk which we were told was rather rare – possibly a Northern Harrier. These sightings bring our total to nearly 50 varieties of birds that we’ve seen. Most of them we see frequently enough we are now able to recognize them from distance without using our Nocks. The Pine Siskins were feasting on dandylion seeds.
Included with the mail today was a letter from Scotland. My friend, Ishbel MacAuley, in Stoer received the books of extracted data for seven villages that I sent to her just before we left for our mission – my Stoer Project. In her letter, she said, “I have been engrossed in them since they arrived. They are excellent and will be of great assistance to people coming here looking for their roots.” YEAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She is a multi-generation native of the area. I am absolutely thrilled the tomes have a home and she thinks it’ll all be of help to others.
Love & Laughter
Arnold & Syd
