October Trek Day 3: Independence Rock and Martin's Cove

Here's the whole crew at Rock Creek Hollow. I'm just a couple people to the left of the memorial stone.

I mentioned in my last post that I slept quite soundly after the 17 mile handcart trek. I should now clarify that I did wake up somewhat early due to a feeling of cold in my feet. It wasn't terrible, but it was uncomfortable enough to wake me up. The rest of me was perfectly warm, so I wasn't sure why my feet were so cold. I didn't find out until I got out of my bag what was going on. It turned out that because the foot of my bag was touching the side of the tent, it had gotten all covered with frost as had all the walls of the tent.


It turned out to be okay that I was awakened early, however, because only around half an hour passed before I heard one of the men address us from outside the tent. He said that if there were any Mas in our tent, that they should hurry out and gather at the fire pit as Bishop wanted to talk to all of us right away. Amy and I were both Mas, so we quickly got out of our bags, pulled on our coats and some shoes, and whipped out our flashlights as it was still the deep dark right before the dawn breaks.

We'd been pretty fast, but we still managed to be some of the last few around the fire. I guess we'd been one of the last tents notified. All the Mas and Pas were there, of course, along with our bishopric and a few other married leaders. Bishop started off by telling us that he'd been awakened in the middle of the night, which he has learned usually means that God has something to tell him. So he asked the Lord what He wanted, and a strong impression came to his mind that if we did the planned 8 miles of trekking with handcarts that had been arranged for the day, people would not learn the lessons the Lord wanted to teach them because everyone would be so physically broken down. The Spirit also told the Bishop that we'd already learned the lessons we needed to from physical challenges and that what was needed for our third day was to be a spiritual challenge instead.

I felt like I was in pretty decent shape, all things considered, for the day, but I appreciated that the Lord had a different plan in mind for the day. I knew that there were many who were in no shape for a fresh day of hard trekking. Considering how many had been in no shape to even finish the trail by the end of the first day of pulling, it was clear that a second day of the same would put unnecessary strain on everyone as many would be unable to continue, putting more and more burden on whoever remained until they too gave out. We would have certainly been a poor train of misery slowly eking our way. Perhaps we would have had a greater sense of the immense physical trials the pioneers went through, but we'd already gotten a good taste of that the day before. In the end, I knew that the new plan was the right decision.

Bishop laid out the new plan for the day. First, we would all have more time in Rock Creek Hollow, as we'd hadn't really been able to do it justice the night before. Then we would go to Independence Rock, and finally we'd make our way to Martin's Cove. Bishop Lemon instructed us all that the emphasis of the day would be upon our families. We were to ensure that everything was done in our families, with no more of the running off to seek ward friends that had been going on at various times the day before. We were to keep our children together through the activities, meals, and other events. While this was our charge, we were also urged not to fulfill it through compulsion or unrighteous means, but with real charity and Christlike entreating.

After a bit more counsel on leadership, especially in regards to parenthood, we were sent off with the injunction to tell our family members the good news of the change in plans and to help them break camp as needed. My daughters were all in tents near mine so this was pretty quick work for me. Once we were all packed up, I asked them to stick together as we went to breakfast, so we'd be better able to find our male family members and not lose anyone. It took a little doing, but we did manage to round up everyone successfully for breakfast.

I had to run to the bathroom at that point, and by the time I got back, my family was waiting in line to pack up lunches for the day. I was coming up right as another table was being set up with the lunch foods. It looked to me like the lines were the same, so I got in the much smaller line for the new table and encouraged my family to join me, which they did. It turned out that the line I'd gotten us all into was only partially equipped and didn't have the sandwich fixings like the other table. It just had the chips, trail mix, etc. that could be more easily grabbed. We picked up that portion of the meal, then headed to the back of the first line as my family gave me a little ribbing for leading them astray!

After getting our lunches on the bus, it was time to go through Rock Creek Hollow. Some of the other families were already there, quietly walking or standing together. A few of the other groups had already climbed up a short rise that gave a nice view from the top of the outcropping that protects the hollow. We decided to also make our way up. When we got to the top, we all stood looking down into the hollow in silence for awhile.

Bodil Mortensen

Then Sean asked me what had happened at Rock Creek Hollow. I explained how it was a resting place where the Willie company sheltered after traveling over Rocky Ridge, the highest point on the trail, through a blizzard. 13 died there from the terrible strain of the ordeal. Then I told my family the story of Bodil Mortensen, a 9-year-old Danish girl traveling with friends as her family couldn't afford to all go at once. Bodil helped the 5-year-old son of the family to cross Rocky Ridge.and was told, when they reached Rock Creek Hollow, to go fetch some sticks for a fire. She did so, and once she came back into the camp, leaned up against a cart wheel and died there of exhaustion, starvation, and cold. They found her frozen there, still clutching in her hands the sticks she's gathered. Her body was laid to rest there along with the others.

I was already in a tender state of mind just being in that place, and explaining what happened there primed me further. I was doing alright until I told Bodil's story. It was one that had stuck more with me from the prep phase because of it's striking elements, especially that she was, in essence, traveling to Utah alone and also died alone. I admit, I basically totally lost it when I talked about her. I only just barely managed to reign it in enough to communicate her story coherently. I don't know what impact it had on the others, but I think this breakdown held was more important for me than I appreciated at the time. Up until that point, I'd been in good control of myself, even when I was really struggling the day before. Allowing myself to be emotionally vulnerable in front of my family, and finding that they didn't take advantage of that weakness, connected me to them each in a deeper and more meaningful way. It was a connection that I would need later down the trail.

The bishopric and their wives at the remember stone

When I finished my story, there was some general silence, followed by a few others expressing wonder that those pioneers suffered so much. Mostly though, we just looked down into the hollow in silence, appreciating the moment. After a while, Bishop came up to round everyone up for pictures at the memorial stone. A shot was taken for each ward as well as a big group shot. After the final group photo it was decided to just have everyone remain where they were posed so that we could see the next of the vignettes. I guess that had been originally slated to be performed the night before at the fireside, but it had gotten delayed for some reason, probably only known to Bishop.

Then it was time to hit the road again. The first order of business for the day was going to Independence Rock. That landmark ended up being much farther away from Rock Creek Hollow than I'd expected. It took quite awhile for us to actually get there. During the lengthy ride, Sean and I talked to Kathleen quite a bit more. It was a little more light than my conversation with her had been the day before, but there were still good opportunities to touch on spiritual topics. I even took a bit of a nap on the way while Sean was holding down the fort.

We finally reached Independence Rock at about lunch time. I don't think I've ever been there before, nor have I seen pictures of it that I know of, but I recognized it from quite a distance away as we approached. The descriptions of it from the pioneers, being set apart from any other rock formations, dramatically emerging out of the plains like an enormous land tortoise, made it easy for me to identify it, because that is dead-on what it looks like.

Everyone grabbed our packed lunches and began disembarking. Of course, after days of pit toilets at best and buckets with a tarp barrier at worst, the modern restrooms at the visitor's center were too good of an attraction to be forgone. Funny how much more you appreciate such basic conveniences once they've been denied to you, even for a relatively short time! Once our family was wrangled again, it was time to head up the rock.

We were one of the last families to head up for some reason, so most had already made their way to the top or were in the process of getting there. Even as we approached the rock, I knew that I wasn't going to like the ascent. Everyone was just walking straight up the fairly steep rock side at what looked like a frightening angle. I'm not fond of heights at all, so this really didn't appeal to me, but my sense of duty overcame my fears as my family started scampering up. Had it been left up to me, I would have walked around to one of the much shallower ascents on the other side of the formation, but we were already behind everyone and I didn't want to delay my whole family. Nor could I justify leaving them as I'd been specifically asked to keep them together that morning! I didn't like it, but I made it. Fortunately, the granite was much tackier than I'd feared, so there wasn't much chance of slipping. Not looking down made the proposition easier too. Once I got a handle on the walking technique that was required, it wasn't too terrible.

Everyone else was well into their lunches by the time we all got settled, so we quickly dug into our food as well. Not long after we'd started eating, Bishop Sargent, the bishop of the Layton ward, began his devotional prepared for the setting. He gave some history of the rock, how the pioneers knew that if they reached that location by Independence Day, they knew they were on track to reach the Valley before the cold began to set in, thus the name Independence Rock. Typically, they would dance there at the top, and of course, carve their names into the face. It was how many families kept tabs on each other. Often, one or a few family members would make the journey with others following the next year or a few years later. Many times, the following family members would not have any idea if their loved ones had survived the journey earlier. When they found the person's name on the rock, it would reassure them that their family had at least safely made it that far.

Bishop Sargent also bore his testimony, sharing thoughts on his own ancestors and his gratitude for the legacy they'd left him. A violinist from the Layton ward then played a hymn, which was nice. It wasn't a Bishop Lemon talk, of course, and though I did kind of regret not hearing from Bishop Lemon instead, it also made me grateful. It reminded me that while the members of the other two wards had been enjoying some of Bishop Lemon's insightful and inspired thoughts for the first time on Trek, and a limited time at that, I've been given the opportunity to enjoy that as standard fare. A talk more in the average vein of what you get in and LDS setting gave a striking contrast for me. Certainly, every leader has their own special spiritual gifts they bring to the table, and it is very good that they are not all the same, but it's nice to have regular access to a bishop whose gifts are among those I most highly value.

Bishop Sargent shares the devotional.

After the devotional, we were given half an hour to explore the rock on own.  The section we'd been sitting in didn't have many discernible names, but as my family began to hunt to the side, we started to find some. As we moved along farther, we found many more. It was interesting how there were some places with only a few names and then other sections with names packed right on top of each other. I can only guess from this weird distribution that in some places the rock was easier to carve than others, though it did all seem to be the same kind of rock to me.

There were many interesting ones. Bishop Lemon pointed out to us a son that signed right below his father who had gone across 2 years before. There was also one with a masonic symbol carved in and another that had an interesting shadowbox effect. There were also a number from not that long ago, like between the 1970's and 1990's, Some of those were carved, which I minded less, and others were spray painted on, which I wasn't thrilled with. Although, when you vandalize a rock that derives most of it's historical significance from being a long-time site of vandalism, I guess I can't get too mad about it!

A nice example of one of the older signatures

We also found an interesting place on top of the rock that was made of a series of deep and fairly narrow corridors. Our family had a good time helping each other crawl through those. The time we were given to explore was definitely not enough, in the end. We barely scratched the surface in the 30 minutes we'd been given. It's certainly a place that I'd like to visit again when I have more time to explore. It's like a treasure hunt looking through the signatures. Another interesting one is often just a few feet away. Most of the time we were just calling to each other to come and look at one we'd discovered.

It was also nice to have the place almost entirely to ourselves. The only others we saw come up were a kind of nerdy-looking father and son. They looked pretty Mormon-y, and when the dad asked us who we were, we told them, then found out they were indeed LDS and were just traveling across the country from California. The funny part was that they'd just come from the Mormon Handcart Visitor Center, and they'd apparently heard tell of us there. It was amusing to be so famous, or perhaps infamous!

After piling back on to the buses, we were on the way to the visitor center they'd just come from ourselves. This is the only location that we visited on Trek that I've been to before. I remember stopping there on a family trip, probably to a family reunion in Idaho, when I was in high school. Of course, we didn't spend much time there at all on that occasion. I remember looking through a few displays in the visitor center and dragging a handcart a few hundred feet, but that was it. Fortunately, on this visit, I got to see much more of the area.

The first order of business on arriving was, as always, getting camp pitched. The original plan had been to camp in Martin's Cove, which people normally aren't allowed to do, but we'd gotten special permission to do. In the end, it was decided to simply have us set up in a field near the visitor center. I think everyone was glad of this in the end. While camping in Martin's Cove would have been pretty special, logistically it would have been challenging. We would have had to cart everything several miles to get it up there, with no restroom facilities and such anywhere near by, and no real place to fit our tents as there really isn't any cleared ground in the cove, just a lot of scrub brush and rocks. The nice grassy field right near the HEATED restrooms with full plumbing was absolutely luxurious in comparison.

With camp fully assembled, we all headed to the chapel where the mission president, President Bushman, who happened to be the uncle of one of our former ward members I was good friends with, addressed us. He talked about the sacrifices the pioneers made and some of the dire circumstances not only they, but their rescuers also faced. He told a story of Patience Loader, a Martin Company pioneer, coming to a small creek and falling on the ground in despair, certain that she could not cross it. A rescuer noticed her plight, and with a few words of encouragement, carried her across what seemed most impossible to her.

President Bushman emphasized that this was before the much more difficult crossing of the Sweetwater happened, which broke so many of the most hardy left in the company. And yet, before Patience could be carried over that greater challenge, she needed to be rescued from something small that seemed utterly impassable to her. It made me think about my opportunity and responsibility to help others in small ways as I can so that they can then be carried by the Savior through the most dangerous and difficult challenges of life and death. We are given a great blessing that we get to lead others to Him, and in a tiny way emulate His matchless sacrifice in so doing.

President Bushman then lead us out onto the dirt trail and after a little ways, veered off the path down onto a small footpath that crossed a tiny rivulet that he said he believed was the place Patience couldn't cross. It really was quite a minuscule thing, entirely crossed after just a few steps. Right in front of our family, there was a touching latter-day reenactment of the pioneer story as several people helped Christy, a girl in my ward with significant developmental problems including severely impared hearing and sight and to a lesser extant, balance, cross the stream.

President Bushman

My family had been in the front of the chapel, so we'd ended up at the back of the procession as we all made our way to Martin's Cove. One of my daughters, Felicia from Layton, had pulled out a journal shortly after we crossed the stream and began writing as she walked. This multi-tasking meant that she started lagging behind the others.

The truth is that up to that point, my relations with Felicia hadn't been warm. She'd been fairly stand-offish from the beginning, preferring to run off and spend time with her Layton friends since the very first day. I hadn't had much time to really connect with her on the handcart day, as she was usually in the pushing position when I was in the pulling position and vice versa, but in the small bits of conversation we'd had there, she'd seemed pretty guarded toward me. I wasn't sure if perhaps I was imagining things, but I'd felt like my impression was confirmed when she'd taken umbrage with me specifically as we pitched tents in Rock Creek Hollow.

They wanted us all close together, so we ended up pitching our tent right near where hers was, about 5 feet away with a similar distance from other tents on other sides. As we were setting this up, Felicia came out of her tent and told me that we were too close to their door and needed to move. She wanted us to move back about 4 feet, but that would have put us on a slope that gradually descended into a creek. That seemed like a bad plan to us, so instead, we talked to the girls from our ward of another tent that was near ours to see if we could just move much closer to them. They had no problem with this arrangement, though after we moved our tent, we were only about a foot from them. Felicia still didn't seem too satisfied with this arrangement, but as her complaint struck not just me, but everyone else involved as fairly petty and unreasonable as there was virtually no other space in the area we'd been asked to stay inside. I could only figure this perplexing stance must have sprung from some personal distaste she must have had toward me, which I couldn't understand and of course distressed me.

So on the third day, as Felicia fell back a bit, I remembered the Bishop's injunction from that morning that the day was all about our families. I decided that I too would walk a bit slower so that as Felicia lagged behind a bit, at least she wouldn't be alone. I simply stayed quietly in her vicinity as she wrote, and then when she finished, I struck up a conversation asking her about her journaling habits. It turned out she's pretty dedicated to journal-keeping, so I praised her on being so diligently, explaining that I've always struggled to be as consistent as I should be. She told me that she'd become really committed to it on her mission.

I was a bit surprised to hear that she was a returned missionary, but asked a number of other questions about her mission. Slowly, she opened up as I asked her about her mission experiences and mostly just listened, with a few validations of her sprinkled in along the way. It was clear to me that she really is a very admirable person with a real commitment to the gospel. She also talked about some of her feelings on this Trek so far as she considered the pioneers, and we had plenty of common ground in our admiration for them and the gospel that motivated us all.

As we talked, my feelings toward her certainly warmed up, and I got the sense that she felt something similar. I could only guess that she felt somehow slighted that I'd been placed in the leadership role in the family, which led toward her cold feelings toward me. She certainly may also have felt that I was unworthy of such a "position" as I'd had that extended absence on the handcart day while she'd been pushing the entire time, a pretty valid complaint, if that was what really turned her off toward me. Whatever her reasons for coolness had been, I found that we were able to establish a much better rapport within only about 20 minutes of open conversation. It was an investment I wasn't sure would pay dividends, but I found that it definitely did. I was able to see her with new eyes, which blessed me and probably helped to change the relationship to something more positive.

We caught up with everyone else when they all stopped so we could watch a little vignette put on by the senior missionaries for our benefit. They reenacted the story of Mary Ann and Louisa Mellor, a Martin Company mother who refused to go on and her daughter. Louisa prayed a desperate prayer for divine help in motivating her mother to continue, and immediately found an entire pie in the way. This miraculous food was sustenance and encouragement enough to refresh Mary Ann's body and spirit enough to continue.

The missionaries depict the story of the Mellors.

We continued up after this drama until we reached a small amphitheater set up at the base of Martin's Cove. Here, President Bushman told us the story of Daniel Webster Jones, one of the rescuers. The leader of the rescuers, Joseph Young, determined that some men needed to be left behind at Devil's Gate to protect the freight being brought by the Hoggett and Hunt wagon companies so that people could be loaded into those wagons instead, allowing the handcarts to be abandoned. Young asked for volunteers, and Dan Jones declared that any man among the rescuers would be willing to do it. He was given the assignment and was left behind in the Devil's Gate fort along with a handful of other brethren, the freight, and the emaciated cattle that Martin Company had been driving.

The men soon saw that the cattle were good for very little, and butchered them all to save whatever meat was left. That was the main food supply these poor men had over the next 6 months of hard winter. After they'd eaten up all the available meat, they cooked up the skin of the cow to make a broth. Unfortunately, this concoction made them very sick. Dan Jones prayed for divine assistance in these dire circumstances. He relates the results in his own words:

Finally I was impressed how to fix the stuff and gave the company advice, telling them how to cook it; for them to scorch and scrape the hair off; this had a tendency to kill and purify the bad taste that scalding gave it. After scraping, boil one hour in plenty of water, throwing the water away which had extracted all the glue, then wash and scrape the hide thoroughly, washing in cold water, then boil to a jelly and let it get cold, and then eat with a little sugar sprinkled on it. This was considerable trouble, but we had little else to do and it was better than starving"

Daniel W. Jones

After making note of this drawn out process, Dan Jones makes a comment that, for me, is one of the most instructive thoughts from the Willie and Martin tragedy. He says, "We asked the Lord to bless our stomachs and adapt them to this food." Rather than ask the Lord to provide them with better food, their prayer was that they might receive the ability to use the food that they had already been provided. This, to me, is a profound example of faith and perspective. Dan Jones and his men showed that we can gain much more as we seek the grace of Christ to change us rather than asking for God to change our circumstances. The truth is that personal change enabled by the Savior is the real test of life, and coming to the place where that is our desire even in the most dire circumstances is a wonderful indication of true discipleship.

After hearing the inspiring story of Dan Jones, it was time to head up into Martin's Cove itself. I'll admit, it wasn't what I expected. I was thinking it would be something along the lines of Rock Creek Hollow, as in a little clearing surrounded by some sheltering cliffs. Instead, it was basically the narrow areas surrounding a foothill which separate it from higher hills. I really never could see where they would have actually would have pitched camp, because there seemed to be no place for that there. It was all uneven, sage brush-y ground. I don't know how they managed to make camp there, much less how we would have managed it in the end.  It wasn't windy the day we went, but my roommate later told me that she'd been there on a windy day and that there was a very noticeable drop in the wind once you entered the cove. So while it must have been a very difficult place to set up camp, it did provide an important shelter from the one weather element they could escape, wind.

Apparently, they camped on one side of this foothill and buried their dead on the other side. We came in on the side they camped in and went out on the side they were buried on. At the top, President Bushman told us the story of Isaac Wardle, one of the Martin company pioneers. He was in the stupor of complete exhaustion, as many were, when the group arrived in the cove. One of the rescuers ordered him to go out and cut some firewood. Isaac refused, telling the man to go and do it himself. He was told to go, more forcibly this time, and again refused. Finally, the rescuer roughly picked him up and shook him, telling him once more to take the ax and get the firewood. Isaac angrily went and cut down three small trees and threw them at the rescuers feet. Later on, Isaac said that the rescuer had saved his life, for if he had not gone to do that physical exertion, he probably would have just frozen to death right then.

There are 3 stumps in Martin's Cove that are believed to be the stumps left from the trees Isaac cut down. Apparently, when President Hinckley would visit Martin's Cove, he would always touch each of those 3 stumps in remembrance of both the handcart pioneers and the rescuers. President Bushman told us where one of the stumps was at the end of the small seating area at the top of the cove and said that he would wait down the trail a bit to point out the other two stumps to us as we went out.

Two of the three tree stumps in the center

After President Bushman's remarks, Bishop Lemon spoke. He's always a powerful speaker, but seemed to have extra gravitas in that place. There really is a temple-like solemnity about it. He talked about the trials both the pioneers faced and those we face today. His point was that our loving Father in Heaven will not spare us trials, but He will help us through them. You can catch some of his remarks in Martin's Cove in the Trek video I shared in my first post about Trek. He then asked each of us to go back to camp on our own, not in families as we'd focused on the rest of the day.

A fair portion of the group started back pretty quickly with others lingering behind. Sean suggested that we offer a prayer as a family before we went our separate ways. I immediately recognized the value of his suggestion with appreciation, and we quickly and quietly moved our family down the path the way we'd come in a little bit so that we wouldn't be disturbed or disturb anyone else. Zac offered the prayer for us. It was simple, but powerful, especially in that setting. I could tell that the experiences of Trek were changing him. After some warm exchanges of quiet regard, we moved our separate directions.

I personally wanted some time to pray for myself while in the cove, so I took a seat on one of the benches were a few others were lingering and started to pray. There were a number of things I covered along with some reflection breaks. Unexpectedly, I received a prompting to act upon an earlier prompting I'd received a few weeks before at General Conference. Probably my favorite talk of that Conference was Elder Lawrence's "What Lack I Yet?" I knew when I heard it that I need to offer my own prayer of "what lack I yet?" as he had suggested, but though I'd tried to do so several times in the previous weeks, I'd always felt a block about it before, and I knew that the timing was not right yet for some reason. In Martin's Cove, I knew that the time had arrived, though I'd had no though of it on Trek before. So I offered that prayer seeking to know what I need to work on, then waited awhile for the answer to come. After a bit, I had no inspiration and realized that I ought to be starting back as the sun was rapidly going down.

I got up and took a look at each of the stumps as I started back. Not many others were still in the cove when I made my move, so I had the chance to see the stumps basically on my own. I thought that I was going to be okay afterwards, but I found that shortly after I'd gotten out of sight of where President Bushman was, I started crying freely. It became heavy enough that I could no longer see where I was going and had to move to the side of the trail until I could get myself under control.

I guess it was a lot of things just boiling to the surface at once. My thoughts at first were on the suffering of the pioneers and the sacrifices they and the rescuers made. Soon, my own life struggles took the forefront. A conviction took me that while my own trials are not as physically dangerous as those the pioneers faced, they are just as much a matter of life or death from a spiritual perspective. As such, God is no less willing to extend His miraculous grace and mercy in my case as He did in theirs. My advantage is that I've been left a wonderful and rich heritage of faith and perseverance from those pioneers. I am so grateful for them. They are proof that God does not sleep, either then or now. He is mighty to save from all the ills we are asked to pass through in life, and because of the Savior, we can make it through all the stronger for them.

After a while, I got back on the trail and started to make my way again. It wasn't long however, before I stopped again. This time, my attention was arrested looking out into the peaceful, sheltered space of the canyon or gully I was descending. In the dying light, the fall trees and other vegetation had a very somber aspect, as was only appropriate considering this was the area where many faithful pioneers were doubtless buried. As I looked out on that scene, I thought about the emotional price so many pioneers paid as they laid their precious loved ones in a snowy grave after watching them slowly fail over so many miles. I think that would have torn me apart.

The burial side of Martin's Cove

It was then that the answer to my inspired prayer began to distill upon my mind. The truth is that I've given very few the kind of power over me to inflict those sorts of wounds. Outside my family, I've become very guarded in whom I've allowed to be close to me. Even in my family, I've been far too reserved in what I share of myself. The answer of what I need to work on is being more open in my trust and love of others.

This answer filled my thoughts as I moved down the trail. I have recorded more details on my impressions on the subject for myself elsewhere, but I think I shan't elaborate much more here. Suffice it to say, I gained a new commitment to share my heart more freely though it opens me up to greater hurt. I have certainly not been entirely successful in this resolve since Trek, but I am continually working on it, and I think it has done me good, though it has also given me additional pain at times. I believe that it is a trade-off worth making.

Eventually, one came to a place where the trail split. President Bushman had told us to go left there to make the quickest trip back to camp. The right trail would go around past the rescuers statue before taking a longer path back to the main area. I had started down the left trail a bit when I heard Bishop Lemon yelling at me from behind and across the way. He, Sister Lemon, and President Bushman were moving together along the right trail, bringing up the rear. Bishop told me I was the last one (everyone who had been behind me had passed me while I was crying/reflecting early down the trail) and instructed me to waste no time in getting back to camp from that point, as the sun was almost completely down and the temperature was dropping quickly. He also told me to tell others to move along quickly as well if I happened to run across anyone else on my trail.

I noted my assent to this advice, and picked up my pace a bit. Beyond what the bishop had said, I knew that my family was scheduled to help with dinner prep that night, and I didn't want to flake out on them again. Soon, I came to a gradual downhill section. I knew that gravity would be my helper there, so I started running. After running down this part and then up another curve for awhile I came upon Brother McDonald, our first counselor, walking along with a few others. I was tired, so I stopped to walk with them a bit and to pass on the bishop's message. Bro. McDonald hadn't had known much about where people were on the trail before that, so after consulting with me, he realized they were at the back of that trail and could play clean-up crew pretty handily, making sure that no one was left in the dark.

After walking and talking with them for awhile and hearing these plans for caring for those still along the path, I had enough time to catch my breath. We'd also all gone up to Martin's Cove in our light daytime apparel, mostly t-shirts and such. No one really had coats or such things. I realized that this would probably be a problem, and the falling darkness would also present a problem soon. I resolved to make my way back more quickly to see if we could rustle up some succor for those still on the trail. I began running again, which helped with the coldness. 

I kept running along the way only taking short breaks occasionally to catch my breath now and again. I also stopped periodically as I passed people to see how they were doing. Everyone seemed to be doing pretty well, though most were definitely starting to get cold. After a mile and a half or so, I ran across a heavily-laden brother making his way back down the trail in the opposite direction. He was carrying a bunch of coats and some flashlights. He offered me a coat, but I refused, knowing that I was on pace to get back before long and realizing that there were others down the trail that would be more in need than I was. 

I was pleased to see that someone had anticipated the needs and had taken measures to address them. He said there were a few others closer to camp that were still collecting materials and would doubtless follow him soon. I let him know that Bro. McDonald was bringing up the rear on the one trail and the Lemons and President Bushman were checking no one had strayed down the wrong trail. It seemed like things were in good order to get everyone back safely and reasonably comfortably. I was still eager to get back to help my family, so though one of my purposes had been removed by the thoughtfulness of others, I didn't slacken my pace.

Before long, I was back at camp. It was certainly dark and quite cold at that point, so my first order of business was getting myself a coat and flashlight from my tent. Then, I found Shanalee at the water pump and learned from her that the couple as medical support staff had realized that we would be back after dark and that everyone would be hungry at that point, so they had done the dinner prep themselves before anyone came back. I was glad to hear that we weren't delaying things, but still felt like we should pitch in as we could, so I talked to this support sister and learned that while dinner was well in hand some help would be useful in getting things ready for breakfast.

To put this new plan in motion, I started collecting my family members as I could find them. Soon, I was prepping the eggs with all my daughters, though I couldn't find Sean or Zac after some searching. The plan was to do personal Ziploc omelettes, so we needed to pour the egg mixture from a big industrial bag into tons of the small Ziplocs. Soon, we had a nice little assembly line going, though we all helped each other as needed along the way. It ended up being a really wonderful time of unbridled joy. We were all just relishing in each other's company and having a great time working together. I felt an outpouring of love for each of them, and especially appreciated this new-found positivity with Felicia. We were able to knock out the work in good time with this system.

Soon after we finished, it was dinnertime. We helped lay out the meal line, and soon everyone was eagerly digging in. After dinner, there was some general mingling followed by the evening's fireside. The last of the vignettes was performed, finishing off each of the stories that had been represented in stages along the journey. For me, the most memorable of the stories was that of Sarah Franks and George Padley. They were a young couple who were engaged, but unlike many pioneers, were waiting to be married until they could be sealed in the temple in Utah. Unfortunately, George died in Martin's Cove, so the heartbroken had to finish her journey alone. When Pres. Faust learned of their story, he personally ensured that George and Sarah would be sealed in the temple.

The parts of George and Sarah were being played in the vignettes by a couple in our ward, Kim and Jackson. They were not officially engaged on Trek, but unofficially, everyone knew they were. As Kim related her portion alone, there was a realism lent to her words due to their relationship. She was definitely emotional as she related it. I know them both quite well and really appreciated them, so it was quite poignant for me too.

Kim and Jackson on Trek.

I can't really remember much about the rest of the devotional that night. All I really remember is that Bishop Lemon didn't do it. I figure he must have been feeling pretty spiritually exhausted at that point, an idea which I think was borne out the next day.

After the devotional, there were a larger number of people that lingered near the fire than usual. I think it was sinking in for everyone that it was our last night, that we would be traveling home the next day. We'd all drawn so much closer, that realization was quite depressing. There was also a looming sense of regret that we'd all be back to the normal world before long. The spirit of Zion was so strong, I think everyone feared the loss of it.

Gradually, people moved off to bed. After discussing the day with Amy and Karen for awhile, we went to sleep too. As I drifted off, I reflected on the things I had learned so far on Trek. I'd gained many valuable things: impressions, inspiration, feelings, and relationships among others. I knew our time was growing short, but because I was on the Trek Committee, I had some insight others didn't into what was planned for the next day, and I knew that there were several awesome things to really look forward to. But those will have to wait until the next post!