Reaching Base Camp

Moonrise came about about 9 PM.  We still had eight miles to walk that night to get to base camp and food.    We walked again in groups, two’s, three’s and even four’s, I noticed through my daze.  Connie had my hand and at times was literally pulling me along, but never did she let go.  We didn’t stop, for that would have been the end.  We just kept putting feet down and picking them back up.  I wondered, at times, to whom those feet at the ends of my legs actually belonged.  I certainly had no sense of ownership.  And still we walked.

Somewhere around 2 AM or later, we came to a hill that had all our duffel bags there, piled in a heap.  We were told it was base camp.  There was no one else there.  No tents.  No fires.  Just a hill piled with duffel bags.  Again that sense of , "it this all there is?"  We were told to find our bags and food would be distributed.  I found my bag, pulled it a few feet uphill and collapsed, using it as a pillow.

Lynne woke me up, I don’t know how much later, and handed me a carrot.  Half asleep, I said no.  An huge, unpeeled  carrot just wasn't appetizing.  But she insisted, “You’ve gone too long without food.  Your blood sugar is too low.  You HAVE to eat.”  I took it and bit into the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.  Yes - an unskinned, fat, juicy carrot.  I ate almost half before falling asleep again.  Someone else woke me up by pushing a can under my nose, telling me to drink.  Thinking it was water, I said, “No – I will throw up.”  But they put the can to my lips and I drank – LEMONADE!!  Nectar of the Gods!  NEVER had anything tasted SO wonderful!  With that, I finished my carrot.

The leaders appointed a relief society president (Carol, Putt-Putt) and branch president (Nathan).  They began issuing oatmeal and brown sugar to each group.  One person was responsible for cooking it in the central cook fire and the others were to find campsites, firewood, and make fires.  The cooked oatmeal was divided within each group.  The oatmeal (looking back) wasn’t sweet enough, seemed to have equal parts of sand and oatmeal, but that night I gulped it down with my fingers (having not carved myself a spoon yet) and totally emptied my can.

I remember finding our campsite, but I don’t remember making a fire that night, or even the actual going to bed.  Everything immediately following the food is a blank.  It was the first night we got to sleep with our blankets, but I can’t tell you how I slept.




Sunday morning clean-up.  Kayla in front, Tag and Craig behind.



The next day was Sunday.  Food was passed out again, only more liberally this time.  We got one and a half pounds of hamburger, onions, potatoes, carrots, bouillon cubes, flour, salt, brown sugar and cinnamon for each family group.

We had relief society and priesthood sessions.  Carol spoke about going on the trail and shared Julie’s gift from her mom.  In packing her clothes, her mom had slipped a note inside the pocket of her “Sunday-go-to-meetin’” pants.  It was just a little note of love and ended with “great experiences don’t just happen, they are made.”  In closing, we sang “Love At Home.”  I couldn’t make it past the opening stanza, before I started crying.

That afternoon, we cooked and ate.  I went up away from camp ( see view from my reading spot below) and read the yellow sheets they gave us.  I read the part about sacrifice and wrote to my folks.  I loved them so much that day and felt SO far away – it was awful.  I couldn’t stop crying.



View from letter writing spot at first base camp.  The dark spot just above my knee, behind the mustard plant, was the overhang the leaders camped under.   The meadow at the middle of the left edge of the picture was where sacrament was held.  It was also the place where we first arrived and got food.  The group of tress in the middle of the picture, behind the ridge, is where we went to get water, only we went to the END of that canyon.


Just before sunset, we had our sacrament meeting.  The starkness of it really hit me, for it still had a beauty.  I was confused, mixed up.  The sacramental bread was ash cakes.  The water was passed in a canteen.  That was it.  We had four speakers and it was really a touching meeting.  I know I missed a lot because of being so wrapped up in ME; I was just out of it.  I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the joy the kids speaking were expressing.  I wasn’t feeling gratitude for being there.  I didn’t feel like that.  I was depressed, lonely, and homesick.  "What was wrong with me?" was the only thing I could ask myself.

We had a “rap session” after that and I told them how I felt.  Sundance said I was lucky because I already knew I was weak and would only become strong from that point on.  The others would have their trials later.  At the end, everyone went around hugging each other and talking and laughing.  It felt good and safe at the time, but walking away,I had that same old empty ache inside that I had so many times before when I left the Stanford’s student branch sacrament meeting.  Like, it wasn’t lasting.  The intense belonging and loving didn’t stick.  I still had to walk away alone.  And that hurt.

Again after Church, my group ate.  While we were by our fire, Dan came up to talk to me.  He said he knew exactly how I felt.  The first time HE went on Survival (WHO in the world would be crazy enough to go TWICE???) he felt that way too.  He didn’t enjoy anything, though, for wanting something else.  So, he advised me to just really live one day at a time.  Pray continually to the Lord, even as I walked; and walk by the Spirit.  I asked him what section of the Book of Mormon he recommended for me to read to help me.  (He was getting ready to go on a mission.)  He thought a few moments and then said Alma 32.  I thanked him and he left.

That did the most to lift my spirits!  After he left, I was really excited and happy.  I think it was more than what he said.  It was that someone really heard me and cared.  He was the only one who talked to me about it or seemed concerned.  I felt important and validated.