Deserted in the Dead of Winter
By Gordon Lemmon

It was winter, the beginning of the year of our Lord, 2001. My second semester at Brigham Young University was underway. One Saturday evening I came home from a long day at the library, followed by an even longer night at the testing center. That whole week had been stressful. I had studied a lot and taken several tests. As the week drew to an end, my friend Bryan felt the same way I did. As we sat in our dorm room cerebrating on our despondently miserable study-holic lifestyle, we decided to do something outrageous…
We realized that we had to go to church the next day, yet, we reasoned, our little overnight excursion would not infringe on our ability to keep the Sabbath day holy. It would be over in the morning. We hastily outlined our late night plans. We hopped in my car, drove to the store and bought some firewood. We then began the several hour drive to the High Uinta mountains of Northern Utah. There we had a secret bounty awaiting us. There we would fire up our two beautiful all terrain vehicles (ATV’s) which roared in that wilderness with such power as to make the weak at heart shrivel before our terrible thunder.
We would make the all too familiar five mile ascent to the summit and camp for the night. In the morning we would watch that stunning sun rise over the lofty grandeur of those snowy peaks. As they always are at this time of year, the mountains and valleys were covered in feet of snow. Yet we were not deterred. Our transports were no ordinary vehicles. We strapped our sleeping bags, wood, tent, and other supplies to our quads and took off. Flying over mounds of snow illuminated only by the high beams on our ATV’s was exhilarating.
The last two hundred feet to the summit were the steepest. They were so slippery, that even our four wheel drive behemoths were no match. We strapped the gear to the stronger of the two vehicles. Then, digging our boots laterally into the snow, and standing on either side of the vehicle, we pushed up on the handle bars while revving the engine. It worked! The next 200 feet were exhausting, but we made it to the summit. Now to heat up this forsaken climate. With wind-chill factors reaching down into the negative 40’s a cozy camp side fire would keep us warm throughout the night.
Wait! Where’s the wood. I can’t believe it; we left the wood at the base. Ok, five miles on an ATV really isn’t that far. But we didn’t want to push another ATV up that hill, so we descended to the other ATV which we had left at the bottom of that abruptly vertical ascent, and began to drive that one to the base. Chug…chug…chug dead! You’ve got to be joking! Out of gas? That’s ok, we have gas at the base. We’ll just take the other ATV. And again we climbed that precipitous place! What a night! At least we’ll sleep well when we get a chance!
And aboard that deafening dragon we went again. While we were driving, we realized that the car was veering to the right severely. What is going on? What is the problem? We inspected it thoroughly. Alas! A flat tire. Unbelievable! Is someone playing a dirty trick on us? What are we to do? It seemed our trip was doomed. We got a hold of ourselves and tried to think.
No need to panic. We are only a few miles from the base. I had a solution. I have an electric pump that we can pump this tire with if we can get it back to the base. There we can load up with wood and gasoline. So we got off and pushed the wounded wildcat, again with one of us on either side, revving the engine and jogging along side.
Back to the base I plugged the pump into the lighter in my car and attempted to fill the tire. No air! I tested the lighter. “Bryan, we’ve got a problem. We are in the middle of no where, and the lighter in my car doesn’t work.” We rested for a few minutes, bemoaning our fate. Woe… woe… woe! Its Sunday morning and we are five miles from our supplies. It seems as if we are doomed to destruction. Is this cruel punishment not in consequence of our poor choice of how to spend a Sunday morning!
Again we pulled ourselves together. We will not be able to carry this wood. We’ll hike the 5 mile ascent carrying this gas can. We’ll switch off. And the journey began. For hours we pulled our heavy boots out of that deep powdery snow. Each time we switched with the gas can, was either an enormous relief or an ominous burden. It seemed to get heavier and heavier every time. The chilling winds crept through my cloth coverings and burnt the skin on my face. Since we were not going to be hiking (so we thought) I wore my new sub-artic insulated boots. My feet may have been warm, but the blisters I would later find were so deep, as to leave my socks stained with blood.
The hours finally passed in what seemed like days. We had arrived! We put the fuel in the ATV, and drove to the final ascent. We hiked the 200 feet for the last time. Exhausted, we collapsed at the summit, only to realize that the sun was rising. The daylight was peaking through the cracks and crevices, pervading that pristine wilderness, and revealing immaculate hills of white— untouched.
The scene reminded me of flying in an airplane looking down on the thick white clouds- ah if I could only jump out and land in those clouds. Yet as solid as they look I would sink right through. And so it was with these hills of snow. With the exception of our well worn tracks, the splendor of these sumptuous peaks was unaffected by our presence, and all the rumble of our man made combustion engines was no match for the crisp resonance of the ubiquitous wind, or the august silence that accompanied its absence.
The night was over. We sat there, reflecting on the grandeur of this scene, and upon the choices we had made. What does it mean to keep the Sabbath day Holy? We had been on the trail literally for eleven hours (9pm- 8am). We climbed aboard our fueled vehicle and drove back to base, this time a little slower. By the time we had put everything away and got in the car, it was around 9 or 9:30 am. I began the drive home, but I was so exhausted, I pulled over about half way back to Provo to sleep. As one last blow— which we accepted without complaint, I had left my headlights on when I fell asleep. An hour later I arose, without power. After a while a generous police officer came to the rescue and jump started us. Another hour on the road… We were home. It was almost 1pm. Fortunately, our ward met from 2-5pm. I took a shower, got dressed and went to church. The peace I felt there was akin to the peace I felt on that summit, above the clouds of snowy life, after a long night of darkness and distress.
And so it is in life. On Sunday we step out of the world, and place ourselves in a higher spiritual vantage point. We can see more clearly. We can make better decisions. And the love of Christ can fill us with peace and lead us on the path to happiness. But remember that keeping the Sabbath day holy means more than just going to church on Sunday!