My daughter (the rescue party) at Echo, Utah on the Mormon Trail |
My
own boy who was the Varsity Team Captain came to wake me in my tent. He told me
that the guy had gotten sick and he took care of it the best he could. It was
bitter cold that year, certainly below freezing because water was. My boy’s
strategy of taking care of the other boy who woke up and said he was sick, was
to advise him to puke into his sleeping bag. Not a bad strategy all things
considered, especially considering the plan to keep using that tent along with
the other boys not wanting to be puked on.
The
second adventure was just last year when I was on Woodbadge staff at this same
Envision camp. We had recruited three families from our local unit. The one guy
up here without any family because he had some very small ones at home and a
wife who apparently didn’t want to camp with them, was near me on the road when
a pickup pulled in from the other camp. There was a message for him that his
four-year-old little boy had fallen in a swimming pool and was taken to Primary Children’s
Hospital. The message included the additional point that he was “OK,” but my
friend didn’t know what that meant with regard to the first part of the message
that hit him rather severely. I was glad to be there as sometimes you are just
in the right place at the right time inspired by influences beyond earthly
power. I comforted him in his shock and said I would drive him in his vehicle
as he was in no shape to drive. I suggested his vehicle with the idea that once
we got down to phone coverage, he could either get enough news to relieve his
severe reaction and I would not have to drive him all the way to Salt lake
trusting that I could find another way back to camp. He was determined to go one way or the other. I left word to tell the
leaders of Woodbadge (my group) and Family Camp (my wife) we were leaving and
we headed off.
On
the seven-mile dirt road just to get to the paved highway, we came to our
senses enough to realize there would be a land line at the Bear River Lodge.
So, getting there we asked to use their phone. They had a standard fee to
charge for such requests, but seeing that it was an urgent situation, they
waived the fee. My friend got ahold of his mother-in-law who gave him all the details
that the boy had been revived at the pool and taken to Primary for observation
where he appeared to be just fine. Cathartic release calmed his shock and
anxiety as we sat for a few minutes with a soda to be sure he was collected enough
to drive down to Salt Lake.
Once
he was off, I then began my own adventure to get back to camp. They let me use
the phone again as they were glad to hear the good news about my friends’
situation. Knowing that the camp had somehow received the urgent message
earlier, I knew there must be a way to get a message back in, but I couldn’t
find a number for the camp or anyone who could give it to me. I thought maybe
it had come in by radio. So, thinking on my feet again, I called my teenage boy
at home (the same one who had helped me take care of the sick Scout above). I
told him my situation that I had to find a way back to camp and asked him to
call the camping people at the Scout Office to relay a message back to camp to
send someone to come pick me up. Meanwhile, I would start walking and see how
many of the seven miles I had to go before a relief party found me.
After
the call, the people at the lodge had picked up enough of the info that they said
they would be glad to offer me a ride – in an ATV – back to camp or until we
met someone from the camp on the road. I accepted and sat in the passenger seat
thinking that anyone coming from camp would surely see me in my Scout uniform.
I don’t quite understand the attraction of ATV’s. From my government perspective
I knew they were highly controversial with their ability to degrade the
attractions of the open lands by chewing up the very landscape supposed to be
enjoyed. But there we were cruising along an established Forest Service road
with lots of ATV traffic – and lots of dust. I just don’t see the attraction.
We
never saw anybody coming from camp, but we did come across a civilian in a
pickup who was asking for directions to one of the Scout Camps. I told him that’s
where I was heading and could show him. I thanked the guy from the lodge and
headed off in the pickup. Arriving at camp I checked in and started to get
these comments from people that I had caused quite an incident as they had a
message come in from National in Texas that a lost Scouter named Vaughn,
somewhere between Evanston and camp, was in need of a ride. My boy in figuring
out whom to call with my message had gone on-line (which I guess I had
suggested) and ended up calling National Camping HQ instead of the local council.
The great irony there was that, off course, the guy he talked to in Texas knew
my wife and had a good chuckle. And as typical in the game of telegraph, once
you send a message through a few people, especially if one is a teenager, it
tends to come out a little garbled. I was embarrassed and went to apologize to
our local Council Executive, who, with his wife, was graciously and humbly
serving as nursery leader for Family Camp. He had a good chuckle too.
The
last adventure was just last night. Working hard to set up camp to begin this
morning, and after our LDS Church services, my wife became concerned because
she hadn’t found a box of craft supplies desperately needed for the program. Of
course she had a printed list of everything in the box and a description of the
box as one of those apple fruit boxes with the top that slides down over the
bottom of the box. I told her we had loaded two, maybe three such apple boxes
from the stack in the garage when we loaded the camp trailer. She had missed
part of that loading so she hadn’t been able to check off all the boxes on her
list. I didn’t even know there was a list. After searching all through camp,
she became more and more convinced that we had left that box sitting in the
garage. I was doubtful, but began the challenging process of finding cell
coverage that cut in and out from the highest elevations in camp. I had found that
if you stand on the hill with the new showers and leaned against an outside
wash basin just right, you could keep a connection long enough to complete a
call – well, maybe with one or two call-backs. I texted and talked to three of
my kids and had them check with another – no apple box anywhere. I got my BYU
daughter to take a look thinking that she might be more thorough than her
younger brothers (daughter-like-mother sort of thing). I was all prepared to
drive to Morgan again to meet her. I figured maybe I could stop by McDonald’s
in Evanston on the way back for some fries and wireless.
Having
relayed and received several messages, I finally got one from my youngest son, “found
it.” His older sister had indeed found the box in a pile of her college boxes
as she is staying with us for the summer. And, it was a pear box – not an apple
box. So the boys naturally missed it and the list was only slightly off. But
then I got to take my late evening adventure down out of camp to the Mirror
Lake Highway north crossing the Mormon Trail at the Bear River then past
Evanston down Echo Canyon picking up the trail where it comes in past Cache
Cave over the ridge from Yellow Creek and the Needles.
I
had cell connection with my daughter just south of Evanston where all the Verizon
bars finally solidify – and, she was already in Morgan. It makes sense since
that is about half-way from home to Evanston and that’s where I was first able
to contact the sick Scout’s dad. I asked her if she could go farther, say, to
Henefer. And that’s where we made another decision. (“Decision at Henefer” you
know I had to work that in somehow). Once she was there (or thought she was)
she called again and I was only the other side of Evanston. So I asked her to
cross over the freeway and take the old highway up to the gas station in Echo.
She soon called said, “Should I be on a dirt road?” I told her, “No,” and told
her to just go back to Henefer so I could find her.
Verizon
coverage in Echo Canyon seems to have its weak spots, so we weren’t
always connecting. I realized my mistake in not describing things well. She had
likely taken the first exit that said Henefer, still a ways off from the actual
town. So I called again and not connecting, left a message that she hadn’t yet
arrived at the actual town of Henefer (not that there’s much there, but there
is a real town more than just a farm building or two). She called me back
without hearing the message and said that she had found the real Henefer,
figured it out, and was on the road on the other side of the freeway. I told
her to just continue up that road until she got to the gas station at Echo. I
couldn’t remember if it was still in business, and it was Sunday. She found it
just fine as evidenced by the photo.
So
she gave me the “pear” box, plus another with craft supplies my wife had
forgotten about completely, along with the card table I had requested of her
because I forgot to load that when specifically requested.
I was actually glad to have escaped from camp. The Woodbadge tent pavilion they had attempted came crashing down in the wind. They naturally took over the nicest, newest space in camp (with the wi-fi) that was intended for the family camp nursery. The nursery had to move to the camp director's cabin. And the long drive recharged my INFP spirit. I get inner-strength internally, something hard to do when you are never alone at camp. Besides, I'm always one for a Quest.
On
my way back up Echo Canyon I saw two moose at Castle Rock just sauntering along
the edge of the hill not far off the freeway. I wondered if they knew they were
on a Mormon Trail adventure.
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