I remember being in Primary. We would tell stories and sing songs about our wonderful pioneer ancestors who sang as they walked, and walked, and walked. I remember thinking, "I wish I was a pioneer!"
Well, after a three day taste of what they experienced, I'll admit that it isn't exactly prancing through meadows. We only experienced three days, and I'll admit that it's
much harder than that.
Last Wednesday morning we got up early and dressed in old-fashioned clothing, ditching all makeup and cell phones when we boarded the bus with our ward and left for the mountains. We were fortunate for a twenty or thirty degree drop in temperature, but I guess when the temperature you're used to is at least 110 degrees, well, even a thirty degree difference is still hot. Anyway, there were over seven hundred people from the Highland stake with youth ages 14-18. Once we got there, we were assigned a family. I was fortunate to be in a family with both tough guys and girls, all of whom were really great people.
After packing our five-gallon buckets and sleeping bags onto our handcarts, we set off. After that point was lots and lots of walking. The first day was just under eleven miles, the second day eight, and the last day six. Again, I was lucky to have a group who was strong and willing to work, so we alternated pushing from the back, pulling either on the metal or wooden bars in the front, and helping on the side. For the first several miles the road was decently smooth. It was just hot, and apparently nobody could find anything to talk about, so we just stared at the rocks beneath us as we walked. But then we were greeted by a giant hill dotted with tall pines. "Testimony Hill," the leaders called it, though some of the boys heard from someone else that it was called "Devil's Hill." There was no way through and no way around, so the only option left was to go up and over. Oh shoot. We made sure to put our ox boys in the very back to push, some of the others on the metal bar, and then I squeezed in with three of the other girls in the front at the wooden bar. Two boys from another ward tied a rope to the cart for precaution. And then we started to climb. We pushed and pulled with all of our strength, grunting and panting and slowly forcing the heavy handcart to move up the steep incline. It was
hard. But then we had solid ground beneath our feet and were cheered on as we exhaustedly pulled the cart to a hault back on the road.
We still had four miles after that. But that night we set up camp with the girls who made dinner to sleep on one side and the boys to put up tents to sleep on the other. Despite major fatigue, the leaders reminded us that we had been taught a dance a few weeks earlier at mutual, and now was the time to do it. So with the fiddle ready and the women's skirts hiked up, we got to swing dance. It was pretty fun. At that point our energy was sapped and we wasted no time snuggling up in our tents, though to be honest I didn't really fall into a good sleep until an hour before we had to get up.
About halfway through our hike on the second day, all the men were "called on missions." The women were left to manage on their own. Before we set off, the YW leaders gave a little devotional, giving us twine bracelets with two knots and a handcart charm. "Doubt
knot, fear
knot, with the Lord by my side, I can bear any load." Again we were faced by a steep hill. Again I was very, very grateful for a strong, energetic team. It was definitely hard, but we worked together, and after hearing stories from other stakes about girls sobbing in pain and fear from the strain, it was much easier than I expected. Sooner than we knew it, the boys greeted us with big proud smiles and anxiously took the load from us. That night I was glad to part of the choir, and we sang beautiful songs including "Israel, Israel, God is Calling," which uplifted all of our spirits.
Anyway, I can't say everything, but the last day may have been the hardest simply because of anticipation. The heat was causing us to sweat terribly, and we were still worn out from the previous days. The dirt road seemed to stretch on forever. But just when we were starting to lose the last bit of energy, we spotted in the distance the finish line. Hanging over the end of one last stretch was a banner that read "This is the place." We gasped with relief and, despite weariness, ran with all our might to the end. Our pictures were snapped. And then the song "Come, Come Ye Saints," echoed over the hills. We couldn't stop smiling as we brought our cart to a halt and collapsed on the grass in the shade, hugging each other quite hesitantly because we had all never been more dirty in our whole lives. But we had done it! Standing in the open was a wooden replica of the Gilbert Temple.
Again, I am reminded that what we did was only three days, twenty-six miles. Our ancestors faced over a thousand miles over a period of up to six months! I really, honestly don't know how they did it. I only know that they had a purpose: to worship their Father in Heaven in Zion. Woven throughout both their experience and our experience were countless miracles. Maybe we have airplanes and airconditioning, but we still have hills to climb as we are faced with the mental challenges of a temping world. So I know that it is vital to do my best to be my best as I too follow Him.
