Julia Helen L. L.: 2015

My sister and my mother didn't know if I could make it.

"What if you have a panic attack out there, Julie?!" Laura asked.

"You don't do well without food." Mom said

"It's offensive to Julie that you are only worried about her going, not your other child." David interjected.

"None of my other children have had seizures before!!" Mom yelled.

I was furious at them for implanting those fears into my mind. They knew how suggestible I was. Why would they do that? As if I wasn't afraid enough already. Caleb was mad at my mom for wanting to coddle me, for not encouraging me to overcome my fears, for trying to exploit my anxiety so that I wouldn't go.

It ended in sobbing, admitting how afraid I was, telling Laura to back the fuck off, because I've already made my decision. I'm going, I'm going, making me scared will only make it worse, why can't you people be supportive instead of being such fear mongers.

I was determined not to flake out, not to let Caleb and his dad down, not to abandon the group. And so I went, despite the fact that I woke up the morning before with a lead pit in my stomach, because I knew I only had one day more of certainty, one more night of comfort, and then everything would be different in a way that I couldn't even predict. I would be different. For the good or bad? I didn't know. My highest hope was that I would simply make it through unscathed, unchanged, and return to normal as soon as possible. My deepest fear was that the experiences I'd have would thrust me back down into fear and anxiety, and that the long term effects would be negative. But I silenced that pressing thought every time it came up, because I had no choice now, I WAS going. I had prepared, bought supplies and had given my word.

Caleb and I slept at his father's house the night before so that we would be able to just get up and go.

The morning came and we left with the group: I was glad to finally be on the road. Let's get this over with, please, I thought. The wait had become very uncomfortable. We stopped for lunch for our last meal. I inhaled a chicken sandwich in a way that I never had done since becoming a vegetarian. I only considered the calories I was going to need later.

The group already felt like friends. Two leaders: Caleb's father James and his old friend Richard. Seven survivors: Caleb, David (my brother), Jon (my almost brother), Joe (a silent teenager), Kelsey (a girl who had worked in a survival program for troubled youth), Savannah (Joe's little sister who apparently had been struggling with her home life), and I. It felt like we'd all known each other for a long time. A frightening, sallow, lanky old man walked out of the restaurant while we ate and Caleb said, "That dude's for sure a zombie." Joe, quietest of the group, the youngest of the boys, laughed quietly at Caleb's joke for at least ten minutes straight, trying to hide it. That was the first noise anyone had heard him make.

James drove us to an amazing view of the desert and told us to get out. We were on a mountain, so we could see countless miles ahead of us. He let us know that the path we were going to take was from the very right side of our vision to the very left. We'd be trekking nearly from horizon to horizon. I didn't know what to do with that information, just numbed it away.

Finally, after the 4 hour drive down to the Escalante area, we stopped. I chugged an entire water bottle before I stepped out of the car. Body, I said in my head. You're going to need this water. Hold it for as long as you can.

James and Richard showed us vaguely where we were on a topographical map. "You're somewhere around here." They pointed. I looked at the myriad of twisting lines on the map and had very little comprehension of what it represented. We had practiced looking at maps like this a little bit before hand, but now that we were out here, I realized I should have practiced much more. "And you need to get to a dirt road somewhere in here, travel north until it intersects with a larger road, and the tree at that intersection is named Ivan. There will be water at Ivan, and a note. Oh, and stay left of the Red Breaks, over there."
"Why is it named Ivan?" Someone asked
"Ivan just is Ivan. You'll see."
That was all the instruction we were given. It was an all day hike and we carried no water with us. No GPS. No compass. No char cloth. No sleeping bag. No pillow. One small bag of food each for the whole week, and a pack made out of one wool blanket. Each group had a water-sterilizing UV light, and the hope that there might be pot holes of water between us and Ivan.

James and Richard sent us off and the last thing I heard Caleb's dad say was, "Oh yeah, people have definitely gotten lost and died between here and Ivan." Like it was no big deal. With that blessing we took our first steps. "Have people really died here?" I asked Caleb. He tried to make light of it. "Don't you know my dad? He always says stuff like that." But I was going emotionally numb. I had no sense of where we were going and trusted the group to navigate.

Navigation was difficult, we found out soon. We would see a landmark in the distance that we thought we recognized, and would look down for 20 steps, and the landmark was gone. Hidden, or changed, or in a direction we didn't expect, and we'd have to re-guess our location. We never actually knew where we were; a series of guesses built on guesses led us forward.

We found our first pot hole full of water soon enough. It was exciting. Perhaps this was doable after all. I allowed myself to un-numb a bit. We somewhat hesitantly took our first sips out of our empty soup cans after waving our UV lights in the water. It was weird to trust that sticking a light in the water would make it safe. Joe quietly refused to drink. He stood skittishly away from the group with his hands in his pockets.
"I don't need any." He insisted.
"Joe, we don't know how long it will be before we find water again," someone said.
"Seriously," he said, "I don't wanna drink." Somehow he was yelling and yet almost impossible to hear. I couldn't understand. Did he not comprehend that we were essentially lost in the desert? We conceded but told him that next time we found water, he had to drink, he didn't have a choice.

As we wandered around twisting deep washes, we saw a foreign couple coming down the path, distressed, with a map held out in front of them as they walked. They were glad to see us because they were completely lost and thought we could help them find their way out. But we were as lost as they were and didn't have much advise. I noted that they at least had water with them, and wondered how crazy they'd think we were if they realized we had absolutely no water with us.

We found our way out of these washes and noticed a storm to the west and tried to strafe east to avoid it. There was lightening in the clouds. We saw a tiny dirt road that we believed must be the road James was talking about and got excited, but had to stop as the storm hit us. On top of a hill, under a tree, with metal objects strapped to our backs (soup cans, for drinking, a large metal can for cooking, and square metal pans to build fires in, because it was illegal to leave fire debris in this area.) We were surrounded by a lightening storm. The temperature dropped rapidly. Suddenly freezing. We unrolled our packs and put on our warmer layers. The rain turned into snow, which turned into hail. We shivered under the tree together, laughing and joking mostly. I kept forgetting that we weren't lost anymore. "Oh wait! We found a path, didn't we!" A few minutes later I'd feel that unsureness of lostity again and then realize, "Oh my gosh, wait a second! That's right, we found a path!" and then again "Oh..oh...yes! The road! I forgot again!" Everyone thought I was crazy but I just couldn't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that I could actually relax a little bit. We packed everything up again, the hail had stopped, and we followed the dirt road.

We were sure that this road would intersect with a larger road at some point, and the tree at that junction would be Ivan. They would have water for us, which we were starting to feel the need of. The little road intersected another road, even sooner than we expected! "We did it!" Caleb said to me. There was a very distinctive, solitary looking juniper there that we were sure would be Ivan. We ran to it, but there was no note, no water, anywhere to be found. How could this be wrong? We now had no idea where we were again, and had no idea where water would be. We had trusted a false road. The navigators surrounded the map and focused. Looking at the curvature of the larger road, the only thing that made sense was that we had grossly missed our mark and were so far northwest that we needed to head sharply southeast. Which I thought was odd since, hadn't we been strafing east this whole time? But what did I know. We packed up and followed the new road southeast. We didn't know it, but if we had gone in the opposite direction, we would have found Ivan in under a mile. The road lead to a dead end. We were lost on lost. We found a small metal enclosure in the ground with a pool of disgusting water in it, though, so that was good. If all else fails, we'll have water. It was getting late. We were going to need to start making camp soon. It felt disconcerting to consider camping without the slightest idea of where we were, but we had no choice. We had already hiked for 8 hours. And a part of me was excited that we wouldn't have to split up with the boys tonight, like was planned.

We started hiking off to find a better spot to camp and somebody stopped and said, "Was that a car engine?" We all ran back to the road and saw James and Richard. They had followed our tracks. I was surprised by how excited I was to see technology, only after one day. If felt like much longer.

"I thought we were so lost!" I yelled.

"You ARE so lost." Said James.

I had been trying to convince the group not to split up.

"If we were in a real survival situation you guys, we would never split up. That would be ridiculous. And guess what, we ARE actually lost in the desert. Splitting up is stupid." I hadn't known that James would be tracking us.

James had suspected that we would try to pull something like that, so after they drove us to Ivan (I noted that Ivan was shockingly unremarkable looking, and thought our Ivan deserved the name much more) and we'd had a good drink, he walked with the girls a hundred yards away to where we decided to camp, and Richard walked in the opposite direction with the boys. "I'll track you for a while tomorrow girls, so we know you're not going in a funny direction." The plan was for the girls and boys to take different routes and then meet up the next night at "the spring" which was basically just a random spot on an offshoot of the Escalante river called "the Gulch." We girls chose a spot under a low-hanging juniper tree. We folded our tarp over a low arm of the the tree and made ourselves a little tent.

That night was cold, under 30 degrees. We each had coats and thin wool blankets, so we decided to share our blankets and almost snuggle. It was still cold. Just warm enough that I wasn't suffering, but just cold enough that I couldn't fall asleep. We had no pillows, no pads. The ground was freezing and hard. My legs were constantly stiffening and aching, but to move them felt colder. My hips dug violently into the ground. I laid and squirmed and wiggled till the daylight came, with only a short, perhaps hour long intermission in which I had a dim, vague dream about baby Beckham walking around. It was the night that never ended.

As soon as the temperature was tolerable in the early morning, we rose and packed up. I was surprised to find that I didn't feel tired, or hungry, or thirsty. I was, however, completely turned around and convinced that we needed to hike in the exact direction that we came. Kelsey showed me I was wrong by using the sun as navigation, and we started off, down a little dirt road. A long ways down Kelsey veered us off the road, because she saw a formation that looked like a gun-sight, a shape the leaders had told us to skirt in front of. Before we could reach the gun-sight, we came to a sheer drop off on our left, and a sheer drop off on our right, small canyons leading to a deep canyon that passed directly in front of the gun-sight. Could this be right? The map looked mostly flat, but, were we looking at it wrong? I had charted our path on Google Earth and had not seen anything like this. But... that gun-sight. Nothing could be more clear than that being the gun-sight. It was two mammoth, sharp boulders that jutted into the air on top of a mountain. There was nothing else around that could be it. Kelsey was certain. I felt we were wrong but, she was the one with topographical map reading experience. Again, what did I know? We could see no way to get around this canyon, but through it.

"We need to get down in there to cross in front of the gun-sight." She said. "Once we're down there, I'm sure we'll see that it opens up and takes us to flat ground again. There's no other way."

So we located a crack in the earth that appeared to slowly descend into the canyon. As we descended, the crack became steeper and steeper, but never impossible. Eventually the crack sloped into a cliff, with just enough variance and platforms that we could slide and jump, slide and jump. It got sketchy enough that we could no longer do it with our packs on, because the size of the pack was pushing our backs forward, throwing our center of weight to a dangerous point on such steep surfaces. So we began the long process of taking off our packs and throwing them down to the next ledge, then following. Again and again. It seemed to take forever to get down; there was always one more obstacle. My sweater wasn't packed up with the rest of my stuff because it had been cold that morning and now I regretted it deeply, because it was catching on things, tangling in my legs, and constantly falling on the ground. Finally we reached the depths of the canyon. I ran down the last hill, straight into some quick sand with my right foot. My shoe was pulled right off my foot. I looked back and my shoe had vanished.

"So that's quick sand," I said. They had warned us about that.

As I was shaking the mud from my shoe, Kelsey said, "Julia, look up at what we just did."

I raised my eyes and saw something that I never imagined myself conquering. From this angle the ledges and surfaces we slid down appeared to go up completely vertically.

I said aloud, "I am so happy that I never have to climb back up that."

We found a large water hole and made our first meal: Dry oatmeal, powdered milk, brown sugar and raisins. "I make this all the time." Kelsey said. "Even when I'm not camping. It's one of my favorite meals." I actually was surprised by how delicious it was. The powdered milk was great because it masked the metallic taste and gross look of the water. Just as we were about to pack up and head further into the canyon, we heard a voice behind us boom,

"Welcome to Hot Dog Hell!"

James and Richard had found us again and looked down on us from a very high ledge. So, these were the formations that they had described as hot dog shaped, and warned us to stay away from. And we had dived head first into them. They hadn't looked like hot dogs to me. It was lucky that they tracked us for as long as they did. We had been going the right way for long enough that they easily could have left us to our own devices. It was also lucky that we stopped at that water hole. 30 more feet and we would have been out of sight.

"How did you guys even get down there?" They asked.

We gestured to our route and they said,

"Well... you're going to have to climb back out."

Kelsey examined the map and tried to convince them that there would in fact be a way out of here through the canyon bottoms, but they assured us we would eventually run into an impassable 15 foot drop.
You can't be serious, I thought.

They would be waiting for us at the top. Time to move.

Climbing back out was slow and dangerous. Our packs were once again throwing our weight backwards, making it difficult to stay close to the rock. But this time we couldn't take our packs off and throw them ahead of us. The rock was also giving way under our weight, because it was a flaky brittle sand stone. This had worked OK on the way down because we could slide, but using this for handholds on the way up was nerve-wracking. We could never rely too heavily on one handhold. One slip and we'd fall backwards off the mountain. I got to a spot that I felt I just couldn't do. I had to lift myself up a ledge that was chest height, and there was nothing to grab onto but the steep flaky top of the ledge. It couldn't be done. I remembered when Caleb and I had gone climbing around Arches a few weeks before, on these wide, flat, solid rocks, and fear had rendered me paralyzed for ten minutes, as I lay there on my back, waiting for it to pass.

"Kelsey! I don't think I can do this! I can't do it." I said.

"OK, just wait right there! I'll be up there soon!"

But Kelsey was helping Savannah. Savannah was so short that the ledges were just a little too high, and her pack was pulling just a little too far backward. She was a petite 15 or 16 year old. "I'm going to DIE!" She kept saying angrily. "Seriously, I am GOING to fall off this cliff, I can't move!"

I tuned out her yells and realized I had to do this myself. There was no time for paralyzation now. So I left them, I just left. I scampered up the flaky steep sides, afraid that my muscles would weaken at the wrong moment but they never did. I flew out of that canyon, and even still, it took maybe a half hour. I valued my life too much to stay and help, and risk it any further. I would have given, if I'd had anything to give, but I used everything I had on myself. I wasn't a hero, but I stayed alive.

I broke past the surface of the crevice to see James perched on top of a hill 50 yards or so away. Kelsey cawed.

"Wooooohaaah!" It was our way of keeping track of each other. I called back.

"Where are you?" She yelled.

"I'm... getting help!" I yelled.

"Don't you think we should stay together?!"

I simply said, "Yeah." But I would not go back. I climbed the long way to James and sat down next to him, breathless.

"I'm so tired." I said.

"You must be," he said. "I got winded from just the walk up this hill."

"That was the hardest thing I've ever done." I said.

The severity of the situation broke a wall that had been there, for the first time. I spoke fluidly, unfiltered.

"The other girls..." I was still panting. "I hope they're okay. I couldn't... I couldn't stay. I feel so bad... I had nothing to give... They're going to be mad at me."

It was taking long enough for the girls to emerge that James decided to walk down and check on them. They appeared, just then. They didn't say anything about how I'd abandoned them. With all of us together again, James and Richard re-oriented us and told us exactly where to go.

"You have a long way, but if you hurry you can still make it to the Spring. See that mound in the distance? Just walk straight for it. When you get to it, take the path behind it. That will lead you to a spot on the Escalante river where there are some ladders that will take you down. There's no other way down, but the ladders."

I was not going to get lost this time. I kept my eyes glued to the formation as we journeyed to the horizon. It was deceptively long, a very long hike without water. The sun was beating on us. I knew how important it was that we keep moving. If we didn't find the ladders down to the gulch we could be stuck up on the benches without water. But Savannah was having trouble continuing. "I can't breathe. I seriously can't breathe." She kept saying. We kept having to stop, sun blasting, no shade. Kelsey with unending patience sat with Savannah and convinced her to press on. I didn't have that kind of patience. Kelsey was telling lame jokes with bad punchlines to Savannah to keep her mind off the hike, but I didn't listen. Savannah stopped again.

"I'm not going any further. You guys go ahead."

"We're not going to leave you in the middle of the desert." We both said.

"I don't care if you do, I don't mind if I die. Go ahead."
"Not an option, Savannah." We waited again.

Finally we made it close to the mound Richard had pointed out. There was a nasty little puddle of water. Didn't know how long it would be till we found one again. "We better drink." I said. It was gross. Savannah refused to drink. We refused to go on until she did. We reached the mound and decided to go against what Richard said and go in front of it, rather than behind. It simply looked too far out of the way to go all the way behind it. We crossed in front, and walked into a very dynamic, interesting crevice. It was full of ponds and puddles and ledges and greenery. Good to know we could find a good source of water up here.

We finally felt confident enough of where we were going that we started to talk, really talk. Savannah described her relationship with her mother, how she singles her out, will purposefully help all of her other children except Savannah, how she reminds Savannah that she is adopted when she disapproves of her. She admitted that her mother hit her as a young child, but that it had been a long time since that had happened. I started getting a picture of what this woman must be like, combining this information with what I'd seen of her during the logistical meeting before the trip. As James had been describing how we needed to dig 12" holes before we could poop in a state park, Savannah's mother would giggle nervously and wince violently every time she heard the word poop. Or pee. She was sitting next to me and I could see the side of her face contort over and over. Eventually I noticed that she stopped wincing and rested her head in her hands inconspicuously. However, I could see clearly that she was plugging her ear. I wanted to gasp, or sigh when I saw that, because I understood too well, having been someone so sensitive to words that I once spent an entire semester in a junior high class plugging my ear until it stung. Oh, it made me sad to think of how rigid and knotted her brain must be, being a 50 year old woman almost physiologically wounded by the word pee. At least my mind had been young and elastic when I began un-knotting. It was easy. All it took was a slight philosophical variation and mild self-exposure therapy. I began wondering what it would actually take to help a mind like hers. She'd have to be willing, of course, and she would need to believe that there was indeed something wrong with that behavior, that it was not just some proof of righteousness. I think I knew I was weird; I even resented it like an affliction. As soon as someone I respected gave me permission to be free, I wanted to be free. If she somehow valued this characteristic about herself, it would be more difficult. These thoughts eventually led me to the conclusion that her brain could not ever fully heal without a complete philosophical upheaval that would remove all the barriers responsible for this painful, brittle structure. But perhaps I only felt that way because my own healing had been closely followed by a full disillusionment of my belief system. At this point I gave up in fantasizing about helping her, because full disillusionment is so unlikely, it's pretty much useless to hope for. And I wouldn't wish it on her anyway. Too painful. Too jarring for an older brain. It might not be worth it. My opinion of Savannah began to change. We came in to this, having been told she was "high-risk" or "troubled." But she was just a strong kid with a disturbed mother.

I was mostly silent as we walked through the crevice, just listening to Kelsey work with Savannah, having my own thoughts, occasionally chiming in if I thought of any bits of wisdom. But what did I know about helping teens and mending relationships like this? Kelsey kept bringing the responsibility back to Savannah, no matter how clear it was that her mother was being unfair.

"But what could you do differently in that situation?" She would say.

If I had been a teenager in Savannah's situation, I would have rebelled completely. They would have had to resort to physicality to control me. And if they did, then fine. I would have hardened my heart against them forever and eliminated any kind of real emotional relationship with them as punishment for controlling me. A relationship is the ONLY reward a parent gets for being a parent. So I, being very apathetic about everything including relationships, would still have held the power. Or so, that's how my thought patterns worked when I was Savannah's age. "Parents only have as much power as you give them." I used to tell my friends, trying to get them to rebel as well. I was lucky that my parents had dealt with me leniently, therefore preserving my relationship with them. And Savannah's parents were lucky that she cared at all, that she tried. She tried hard, in my estimation, and got very little recognition for it. I had to bite my tongue a few times to keep my rebellious reflexes from showing to Savannah.

The crevice opened up and we had to re-evaluate our position. If we were correct, the ladders into the Escalante river should be a ways off, but straight ahead. We could see no river but walked ahead fearfully hoping we'd run into it. Savannah and I rested in the shade while Kelsey dropped her things and climbed up a hill. She saw a canyon she believed to be the river, but it didn't look right for where the ladders should be. Kelsey, in her one stroke of navigational genius realized that we had actually climbed behind the (real) gun-sight, all the way around a huge mountain that we were supposed to have gone in front of. (Meaning that if we had followed Richard's directions we would have been 2 mountains off course.) We skirted all the way around the mountain, back to where the ladders should be. Savannah and I didn't have much more energy. We sat and Kelsey ran ahead to the edge of the mammoth canyon to see if she could see the ladders. Eventually we heard a celebratory "Hoooooo!" in the distance and saw Kelsey's arms raise in victory. She hiked back to us. (I still do not understand where her energy was coming from. It seemed like she had twice as much as we did.) We were able to see the ladders because we were on the opposite side of the canyon. A huge blessing in a way, except that we now had to hike all the way around the canyon offshoot to the other side. The hike was so long, just so, so long that day. As soon as we were on the other side, the canyon disappeared from view, and we over-shot our mark. We ended up looking down at a different offshoot of the canyon. What? How had we lost our canyon? It was right there a second ago. Where were we now? I gave up and just let Kelsey lead us around until she found the dead tree we had spotted on the other side for navigation.

There were the ladders. It was an incredible feeling, knowing precisely where I was in the world. I had never known how precious my locational certainty had been. Without it, there is never a moment without a dull ache of insecurity. The ladders were metal and seemed to be in great condition. I had been afraid that they would be made of wood. I climbed down, focusing on controlling each of my worn out muscles. No missteps.

The view from the bottom was breathtaking. Sheer cliffs surrounded us on three sides, and shot so high in the air that we could only see a segment of the sky. The huge plants and trees were dense and bright, trying their hardest to grow tall enough to meet the sun. Kelsey somehow had the energy to want to go exploring for a while. Savannah and I sat and relished in our victory. We knew where we were. And we had an unlimited supply of water. I didn't need much else in the world to feel happy. Kelsey came back with a beautiful, other-worldly picture of the deepest part of this offshoot, where the three sides of the canyon met. We were allowed to bring cameras, if we were willing to take the risk of ruining them.

Kelsey said, "Do you hear the sound of that wind?"
"No..." I said.
"Exactly." She said.
Only then did I realize that wind had been rushing in my ears for two days straight. The silence was amazing. We found our way from the Escalante into the gulch. It was oddly difficult to be sure where to go, even though we were in a canyon. This particular spot had four directions all meeting a great, open, twisty, densely green area. The only fork that went north is the one we took. If we were right about north. As soon as we made the turn, the ache of insecurity came back a little. Continuing to walk took so much strength, but the thought that every step might be a step in the wrong direction, every step might have to be re-taken, doubled the weight of the pack on your back. At some point Savanna and I both reached our limit at the same time. "NOW. We're stopping now."
"Let's make camp over here, then."

We found a great place to camp. There was a clearing with trees surrounding us, and a little pathway from our sleeping area to our living-room. The river hugged tightly to the left canyon wall. Child Julia, and child Sharyn would have died to make camp here, and we would have pretended to be Indians. And it was fun. We gathered leaves and made a bed for the three of us. Hopefully the leaves would help ease the pain of sleeping on now bruised hips.

We decided it was time for our first real meal of the trip. Kelsey had a bow drill and tried to make fire for an hour to no avail. Her arm strength was going and she wanted me to grab the other side and help push and pull, but every time I touched the thing it went off-kilter. So no dinner. I started feeling achey and cold like I had a fever. Oh no. Hiking out of here with a fever would be... no. That just can't happen. Bed time, now, even though it's still light out. I fell asleep great in the light and then a few hours later Kelsey climbed into bed. It was dark. I kept thinking about climbing out of Hotdog Hell, replaying it in my mind over and over like a car crash. I thought about the trek the next day, how there was supposed to be some waterfall in the middle of the Gulch that we wouldn't be able to get passed, and the vague instructions, "Back track when you find the waterfall and find a way out of the canyon to go around it."
"I'm worried about finding a way around the waterfall." I told Kelsey.
"Oh I'm not." She said. "I've done tons of stuff like that, it won't be a problem at all."
I didn't believe her. In fact, I knew it was going to be a very big problem indeed. I thought of the steep rock faces around me, how difficult it was to find the ladders even knowing exactly where they were, how exceptionally poor we were at navigation, how we would lose our unlimited water supply. Even if we did find a way out of the canyon, we would lose our path. Having a path was the most beautiful of blessings. I laid awake most of he night aching that we would lose our path and our water.

I woke up feverless to the smell of smoke. It smelled like camping, regular camping! And it meant real food. Somehow Kelsey had done the impossible with a bow drill at the crack of dawn. I was so grateful for her. I tied my feet up in a bandanna and a beanie, because my shoes and socks were still wet and freezing from walking in the river. I walked to the smoke and saw no flames and got scared. Where was Kelsey? Was she just letting the fire go out? I didn't understand that it was easy to get a fire going again once you had a few coals. I got the fire going, and Kelsey came back with a bucket of river water. We placed it in the middle and built the small flames around the sides of the bucket. Boiling this much water with such small flames took a long time, but eventually we saw little bubbles forming and thought, that's close enough, lets get the rice in there. Hopefully by the time everything is done cooking the water will be sanitized. We woke up Savannah with the smell of food. We made a rice, TVP, potato, carrot and onion sludge, about 3/4 of a can each. It tasted amazing.

"I want to at least make it to the spring tonight." I said. We were supposed to have been at the spring last night, with the boys. They will be wondering where we are.
"Oh, for sure we'll make it to the spring today." Kelsey said. I wonder if the boys will even wait for us for a while and we can meet up with them."
"Wait, so, where is the spring?" Savannah asked. She was always asking questions.
"Here." I said pointing on the map.
"So James said we were supposed to sleep at the spring tonight?"
"No, we were supposed to be there LAST night. We were supposed to have made it to the ladders that first night, when we slept under that tree."
"What?? We're that far behind?"
How could she be so oblivious? Hadn't she listened once? People must feel this way about me, frequently, I thought. I wasn't able to take the back seat and give everything half attention like I usually did, though. I was second in command. I knew the plan backwards and forwards.

As we hiked deeper and deeper into the Gulch, I kept my eye out for ways out of the canyon. It all looked impossible, unless we wanted another Hotdog Hell situation, and I wasn't eager for that. The canyon walls began to narrow and close in on us. There was now no dry land. Walking upstream on slippery wet rocks was not my forte. Savannah and Kelsey zoomed ahead and I lost sight of them. Eventually I was walking knee-deep in water, quick sand underfoot, and canyon walls so narrow I could touch them simultaneously. I saw the girls turn a corner and come back.
"We found the waterfall!"
There was a layer of peace that news brought, once again solidifying our location, but quickly that would vanish now. I had said earlier to them, "I don't care what I have to do, if there is a way to get through the waterfall, I'll do it. So I hiked right passed them to go inspect the waterfall myself. I had to know for sure. I was thinking maybe we could climb the face of it, but it wasn't that kind of waterfall. It was an overhang, just out of reach. It almost looked possible. If water level had been hard ground, we could have used ropes or something, but there was just no way from a swimming position. and getting all of our clothing and blankets wet would make tonight dangerously cold.

The hike to the waterfall had taken half the day. Now I had to retake most of those steps. We took the rest of the day looking for a way out. Savannah and I stayed low while Kelsey ran up four or five different cliff routes that didn't work. No more dangerous climbing for me, I thought. I just wanted to be safe for a while. Kelsey shouldn't even be up there, way too dangerous. On her last try she discovered a semi-dangerous hypothetical way out of the canyon. I watched her climb up and it looked beyond my skill level. The light would start fading in an hour or two, and we had no certainty that we'd even find a way back into the canyon. There was no water up there, probably not even pot holes. We took a vote on the wisest course of action and decided it was an unworthy risk. We set up camp again discouragingly early, discouragingly close to where we slept the night before. We used up our energy today, and got nothing for it.

We ate nothing. How long would we be stuck in this canyon? Better ration our food. We began to seriously wonder if they would find us in this spot. We figured they would start looking for us soon, being 2-days behind. They'd probably hike down the Gulch, perhaps to the Spring, maybe even all the way down to the waterfall. But they wouldn't find us there. They might even find it more likely that we got lost somewhere on the benches and look for us there, because, how could we possibly get lost in the Gulch? It seemed unlikely that they'd go back all the way to the beginning of the Escalante, but if they did, how far would they go passed the ladders anyway? We were deep into the Gulch. Safe, but in the most inconvenient spot. They'd have to send a helicopter to find us, but would it see us in this awkward canyon with poor visibility? We discussed all this and Kelsey put a colorful bandanna on top of a big rock in a clearing nearby, just in case. What came to mind was the story Caleb's dad told me of a group he took out that they couldn't find for 5 whole days. Great. Shit. No.

We each started to panic in our own ways. Kelsey, completely hidden from us. Me, softly, in despair. Savannah, very loudly.
"What the fuck are we doing in this God damned canyon?!" Her voice echoed in the silence. "How could they do this to us? Do they realize that they literally dropped us off in the middle of fucking nowhere without real instructions?!! I HATE this canyon! I'm not spending one more day here, I swear, I won't be here for one more day."
"I hate this canyon." I echoed.
"I just want to be home! I swear I will kill myself if we have to stay here, I will cut my wrists, I don't care, I really don't care."
"Savannah." Kelsey said in her ever-controlled voice. "You know that's not an option."
"Maybe not for you."
"It's not an option for you, for anyone. We're all making it out of here."
For some reason, I wasn't so sure. It seems silly now to think that I was actually considering death when there would obviously be people looking for us, but it all seemed so plausible, it all felt so real. I said nothing but despairing little interjections. Savannah was no longer screaming profanities but crying loudly with tears running down her cheeks. "I just miss my family, I just want to see Joe." Savannah and I both realized how angry we were at James and Richard.
"I'm so mad."
"I'm so mad too."
"I just want to see my brother."
"I just want to see my brother."

I couldn't believe the strength of the desire I felt to see Caleb and David and the rest of the boys. My home life seemed like it was in another dimension, but Caleb and David were out there, right now, in my world, wondering where I was. Seeing their faces would be pure magic. They were missing us, what must they be feeling? I was welling with tears but hadn't spilled yet. It was like the well was just growing deeper to catch it, the depth of feelings I could feel was descending, growing larger.

When Savannah had calmed down to a degree, Kelsey suggested that we say a prayer.
Prayer, oh that's right. That thing that is supposed to make me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Because that's who I am, I thought. Except I realized, I have no idea who I am in this moment. The depth and variety of new emotions, the overwhelming sense that little else mattered in the world but solidarity with these girls, the sharp reality of my physicality and mortality, the stripping of my regular personality, the clearness and emptiness of my mind... made all of the grandiose and intelligent thoughts and opinions I'd formed over the last 3 years to seem very, very small. I remembered perfectly the bored, confused thought pattern I was supposed to follow while listening to a prayer, but I took another one. An older one. I listened to every word Kelsey spoke and tears came out so hard it startled me. It wasn't a come to Jesus moment, it wasn't about God, it wasn't that I suddenly disregarded everything I'd learned in the last few years. It was just me- a part of me I didn't need to pity or fear. It's just that I was so deeply... deeply... Mormon. Not Mormonism the organization. Not even Mormonism the belief system. I didn't claim those as mine anymore. It was the feeling of being Mormon. A way of achieving humility, reverence, and love all in one moment. Quietness and peace. Hopefulness and understanding. My family and neighbors taught me how to feel this way as a child. They told me it was called "The Spirit." But it's something all humans can feel, if you don't reject it. It felt so good to shake hands with the best part of my earliest, and longest identity.

I had been struggling to feel a connection to Mormons. Not a good thing when living in Utah. I would clam up in front of them, suddenly lose my personality, not know what to say, or how much of a filter I should use. I honestly could feel no difference between me and the other girls, or me and Caleb's dad. I wanted to say-- Oh yeah? So you're Mormon? Well so am I, as Mormon as can be, we're the same, I know the feelings you feel, I get it. I just happen to be a myriad of other things, but what does that matter when I'm connecting with you?--

After the prayer we were weary and peaceful from crying.
Savannah sat and wrote in her journal while Kelsey and I raked leaved again for a bed. Kelsey sat on a rock and took off her shoes. I put my shoes in the sun and hung my wool socks on a branch, hoping that they'd by dry by morning. Wet feet for two days. I fashioned shoes out of my bandanna and my beanie. Kelsey was laughing.
"Julia, you gotta see this."
The skin on her foot was peeling off like a snake's. I half yelled, half laughed. The discarded segments of skin were so impressive that she was collecting them in a leaf. We started giggling uncontrollably.
"Go give it to Savannah."
"Here Savannah, I have a present for you." I shuffled over to her. I got close enough for her to tell what it was.
"EWWW, guys! Sick! I don't wanna see that, get it away!" But she was laughing too.

We ate nothing and settled in for the night. We read passages out of a book Kelsey brought and talked about home. We loved home. More than we ever understood. "My life is... perfect." I said, in awe, almost disgust. I really felt it for the first time. My anxiety and PTSD, my job, everything seemed so small, so hard to even think about. It was small and perfect. I thought coming out here that the wilderness would enhance my natural existentialism, that I'd be having wild creative, philosophical thoughts the whole time. But I laid in the dark and stared at the canyon wall, thinking almost nothing at all. Pure clear mind. Nothing to think about except finding the boys, the greatest happiness that I could imagine.

Savannah fell asleep but Kelsey and I began talking. Somehow I found myself telling her my entire life story. How I was afraid of particular boys to the point of non-functionality, starting in 3rd grade, ending in 9th. How I lost my fear but had spent those 6 years mastering the art of avoidance, rather than developing socially, and it left me as a high school student with the nickname "The girl who doesn't talk." How EFY had shown me I was a social failure and I needed to change, and how the first friend I ever made in high school, Preston Croshaw had made it possible. Crawling out of my silence, one step at a time. My healthiest years followed, until a traumatic experience "pludged" my brain and sunk me back into non-functional anxiety, but different, worse in someways than before. I had quit school, I had quit my job. And how I had crawled back out into the sunlight, a year later. I was laying in the middle of a canyon, testing my boundaries, proving my bravery, exactly one year after the pludging, I believe during the very same week of May. She listened very actively, and we fell asleep, kind of. Mostly I was making a game plan for the next day. How to find the others. What do we need to do to make it happen? One of us should find a way to climb out, and try to get a signal with the walkie talkie. (No one had told me James had given Kelsey a walkie talkie. I only then found out.) Or better yet, I had my cell phone with me, so that I could take pictures. I wasn't allowed to use it for anything else, and had to keep it turned off to save battery. But maybe we could even get cell service if we hiked a little farther... but gotta make sure we don't get any more lost.... Gotta find water up there....

A high pitched sound. My ears awoke sharply. What time was it now? The light was very dim. The sun must be coming up. The tarp around my face was ice cold because the water in my breath had condensed and now was sopping wet. I wonder if the other girls heard that sound. It was a while before I heard it again and I thought maybe I imagined something. "OOoooooooooOo!" There it was again, unmistakable, but still quiet. Did they hear it? I didn't want to put my face out of our bed yet, The cold was shocking. Very loud this time, and Kelsey and I put our faces out of the tarp and whooped back. "Whooooahh!" Has someone already found us? I saw a man coming up the bend and all three girls shot up to see James heading toward us. He got close and I was so grateful he was there, it was surreal. James had a huge... expression on his face. I wouldn't call it a smile, but it was something like it. "You have. No Idea. How happy I am. To see you guys." He said clearly, and walked straight to me and hugged me tightly. It surprised me but I loved it. He hugged each one of us.

How had he been able to walk all night in this freezing over-sized ditch with no light? Such a long way! We hadn't expected anyone to try and come and find us from the bottom of this canyon. (If we had known what he had actually been through, we wouldn't have believed it at all.)

No time for breakfast, other than an orange that James let us divide between us. The juice was so delicious.

"There's no way out of here!" We explained. "Do you know the way out?"
"Nope." Said James. "I've never done this hike before. Richard is the one who's done it. 20 years ago. He says there's a place about a hundred yards back from the waterfall."
"We tried every place that looked possible before the waterfall."
"Well, we're gonna find something."
He started off hiking. He seemed determined to get this done quickly. We packed up, and followed him.

I realized something that made me despair a little. The hike wasn't over. We were hiking out of this canyon one way or another, we weren't being rescued. James being here didn't get us out of anything, just made us hike even faster. But at the same time, it was OK now, because he was here. My sense of lostness was gone, that great anxiety eased by his presence, and it enticed me to lay all my worries down and put even more trust upon him, because it felt so good. How are we going to get out of the canyon? We'll find a way. What are we going to do for water on the benches? We'll survive with James around. How are we going to make up for 2 days worth of hiking in one day, without eating? We can do it, because he's here now, he's here. No hardship sounded hard, if we weren't lost.

I was talking to Savannah. "I won't be lost again. I won't let him leave us. Not again. He's got to hike back, just like us, I'll follow him even if he commands me to go, I'll stay by him."
"Me too," She said. "I am not going to get lost again."

James spotted a good place in the cliff to climb out. How had we missed it before? There were a few tricky spots, but it was doable. On the benches he told us to go on ahead, he needed to find a high spot to see if he could get cell service to call off search and rescue. Turns out they had already coordinated a helicopter rescue, if he didn't call it off by noon, and he was running out of time. He started up a hill.

Go on ahead? I thought. "Go on ahead?" I muttered to the girls. "Can... can we come with you?" I yelled.
"Nah, it's alright!" He said.
What does that mean? He's leaving again. So much for my resolve to follow him even if he demanded me to stay away. We oriented ourselves with the sun and took out the map, very slowly, very wary, very disappointed. I guess... we should go now...
We started off in some direction without much heart, and within 10 minutes it seemed like we were completely lost again. Where is the gulch? We couldn't see it at all.
"You guys..." I said. "I don't want to do this. I think we should have just waited for James. I think we should go back." They were kind of quiet but didn't disagree with me. We all turned around and whooped. "Hoooahh!"
We saw him hiking around on a distant hill and yell, "What are you guys doing all the way over there!?"
We didn't know what to say, we just happily hurried back. When we reached him I asked, "Can we... all just hike back together? Do we have to split up?"
"No!" He said. "We'll all hike back together." So it was just a misunderstanding! We'd hike together the rest of the day! This was fantastic!

And then began the longest hike of my life.

We followed the curves of the Gulch to our right. There wasn't a way into the canyon that we could see. James had a bottle of water with him, and as we started slowing down with fatigue in the hot sun, we sat down to discuss what to do with it. "Alright." He said. "I don't know how long it's going to be before we can get back into the canyon. We may have to wait all the way until the spring. So the question is, do we drink this now and hope for the best, or do we try and ration?" Rationing intuitively felt wise, and yet I'd heard that that wasn't smart in a survival situation. Kelsey voted we drink it now. "The best place to store water is in your belly." She said. All in agreeance, we passed around the bottle, a couple gulps at a time to make sure we split it evenly. James took less than the rest of us.

After that bottle of water, I was thirsty again in no time. No shade. No idea when we could drink again. A never ending trail of sand ahead of us. I was careful not to push it too hard, and use up my sweat. It felt like a serious survival situation at this point. And yet, I couldn't be afraid with James around. I trusted him to keep us alive and safe.

Kelsey and James were testing the waters of a few potential cracks into the canyon along the way. Eventually we decided to just go for one. It was a piece of cake compared to Hot Dog Hell, so I was happy to do it. Once inside the Gulch again, I realized how near to perfection my life had become! We had a path! We had water! And we had James! Almost a perfect life.

We stopped for a drink again briefly and pushed on. Hiking in the sand had been exhausting but hiking on wet sand was ideal. Just enough resistance for support, but soft enough to cushion the knees. We hiked a long time before we stopped for water again. For the first time my mind started to be affected by the conditions. It started running sluggishly, and the creek water was beginning to change. I looked at the water longingly, as it now was not sandy gulch drainage but appeared to be very inviting, clear, sparkling, and cool. "That water is looking really good." I said. "Can we stop for water again?" I was last to gather water and use the sterilization light, so I just waited in the dirt, James nearby. Flies were surrounding us, climbing unafraid over our bodies. "They can smell the death on me." I said, and James gave a sinister chuckle. When it was my turn to gather water, the steri-pen lit up for 3 seconds, then the light wouldn't come back on. The batteries were out. And I was the one who had needed water most, my mind losing some of it's functionality. What do I do? I discussed with the group. I needed this water, had to have this water. Do I risk giardia? Giardia wasn't sounding so bad anymore. I decided to drink. As I raised the can to my lips I muttered, "Looks like future Julia's gunna hafta deal with this one." And James chuckled darkly again. One sip in and Savannah said, "You know, we could use these iodine tablets my dad snuck me." Are you kidding me? I thought, wishing she had mentioned those tablets 5 seconds earlier. James left his water bottle with us so we could use the tablets. "I'm going to go on ahead." He said and left us behind. I didn't like being left behind, but every time he stopped moving, his knees started swelling so bad he almost couldn't walk, so he just had to go on. I now had to wait another half an hour to drink water. It was going to be hard, but it was still possible I hadn't picked up any diseases in those few sips. It was worth it not to risk it any further.

I kept asking Kelsey how much longer till the water was ready. It didn't seem like I could keep waiting.
"Probably about 15 more minutes, Julia." We hiked on.
"How much longer, Kelsey?"
"Maybe 5 minutes?" I took the bottle from her so that I could drink the moment the 5 minutes was up. "Can I drink yet?" I said too soon. "I'm just going to, I can't wait anymore." I finally drank down a good amount, and I loved the flavor of the iodine. So much better than that rusty metal flavor! I perked up a bit, but really, water wasn't enough. I don't know how the other girls were hiking so fast. I just couldn't keep up anymore. I fell further and further behind. Finally, I felt a shutting down of something inside me. My brain was delirious, thinking so slowly, the world started feeling like a dream, my body didn't want to go on, my breathing got heavy. Everything just shut down, in only a few minutes. I called ahead, slowly, stupidly,
"Hey... hey guys? I have to stop. I'm not... I'm not ok... I don't feel normal..." They hiked back to me.
"Julia, do you want to take the time to make some food? You might need food."
I agreed, even though I knew unpacking my pack, making food, and re-packing would take a stupidly large chunk of time from our day, and insure we wouldn't catch up with James ever again.
Kelsey and Savannah waited patiently for me. I felt bad to make them wait, but they were very kind about it. I made oatmeal and raisins.

We proceeded again and in 20 minutes, I was a different human being. I had never experienced such a direct connection between my mind and body functioning and the calories I consumed. Food really was fuel. Amazing. My mind was clear, I wanted to fly out of the canyon. We had taken so many breaks, and we were so behind. Now it was time to power through!

Except, now it was Savannah's turn to break down. "This is actually as far as I'm going." She said. "I can't go any further." Again. I didn't have the patience for this. Not with this surge of energy. If we waited all day for Savannah, this surge would be wasted, I wouldn't get to use it. We wouldn't make it out of here, and would spend another night in this canyon alone. But we couldn't force her. I didn't hike back to her, but Kelsey did as usual, and I despaired alone in the dirt, while I heard Kelsey try different techniques on her. They weren't working. Savannah wouldn't budge. Normally Kelsey got her moving again within 10 minutes, but not this time. I waited and waited and worried that my energy would slip away again. I decided to get out our map and check our progress. A little earlier, Kelsey had pointed to where in the Gulch she believed we were. It was so far down the map, so discouragingly far still. I looked closer at the map and really tried to observe my surroundings more accurately. I realized Kelsey was wrong. The terrain had flattened and widened too much. We were much, much closer to our goal than the girls believed. Miles and miles closer. It was incredible news. This is what will get Savannah going again.

I walked back to them, full of energy. I was entirely confident of my opinion, I knew where we were. "Hey, I realized something as I was looking at the map, guys. Savannah, look at this. You know how we thought we were right here? Well guess what. We're actually aaaall the way up here." I pointed.
"I don't think so, Julia. I don't think we've even made it to the Spring." Said Kelsey
"No, we are." I had no doubt. "We're way, way passed the Spring. Look how the Gulch widens and gets shallow. That's exactly what has been happening for miles now." I spoke just to Savannah. "Do you know what this means? We're almost there. It's time to go now. They boys are so close. Let's just do it. Let's just go get our brothers." I knew seeing her brother was her most powerful emotion, because it was mine too. She was quiet but still unconvinced. "Listen, I have extra energy right now, because I've eaten and the two of you haven't." I listened to my voice and realized I was speaking just like Kelsey. Same inflections. Same mannerisms. How strange. "I'll let you use some of mine. If you can't take another step, just hold on to me and I'll take that one for you. We can do it, we really can." Offering my most precious feeling and resource, my limited and sacred energy, was difficult, but I realized I would give it willingly to her.
"Alright, let's just do this." Savannah said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, let's go."
She stood up and began walking, and Kelsey and I couldn't see more of her than a small figure in the distance, for the next few hours. She never needed any of my energy at all, hiking more powerfully than Kelsey and I could understand.

Somewhere on the path, I found a perfectly shaped walking stick, clearly made by someone, and forgotten. I never let go of it. It allowed me to use my upper body strength to supplement my lower body's failures. It felt like a blessing.

Throughout all of this, I was hyper-focusing on James' footprints. Kelsey taught me what they looked like, and every time I spotted one, a rush of hope and confidence came. It was all I wanted to see, the most beautiful shape. I saw the pattern of his footprint every time I closed my eyes. Because although I knew it would be hard to get lost in a straight shot canyon, I also knew there were a few turn offs here and there that might possibly trick us. Footprints were now my mind's most important task of survival. I never knew that a footprint could possibly make a person feel so strongly. It was almost like, you were mentally binding yourself to whoever you were following. Focusing all of your energy on the path that another person has taken. This is how James must have felt when he was following our footprints. Every mark was a relief, an evidence of our safety. I think that feeling hope every time you see evidence of a person makes you love them, you can't help it.

Kelsey and I had some time to chat while Savannah flew ahead of us. She was asking me very pointed questions about which parts of the Mormon church I did and didn't believe.
"So, do you think Joseph Smith really saw God?"
"Do you think the Book of Mormon is actually an ancient document?" I was un-used to such direct questions about the church. Most believers didn't want to here my opinions about this stuff. I was struggling to answer, too. I knew what I would intellectually place a bet on, but I didn't want to say it out loud. Because it didn't make any sense to assert these opinions anymore, not out here, connecting with her. I would tell her my answers, "Well, no, I don't suppose it is likely the Book of Mormon is real..." But would want to soften it, leave it as an open possibility. It felt dishonest, repeating opinions I had memorized as my old self, but that I hadn't had time to verify that I in fact still supposed, as my new self. Because I didn't feel like the same person. Wasn't sure of exactly who I was anymore, or what was important.

Eventually, even Savannah started slowing down. We caught up to her, and we all went downhill, together. How were we still hiking? Hadn't we been close? The sand at this point was all dry, which slowed us down terribly and stole our energy. We must be close, but the path never ended. Our shoulders were so bruised where the straps of our packs constantly dug. Picking them up and throwing them back onto our backs was a challenge, every time. We became quiet, losing the energy or desire to babble. When the girls did talk, their voices started grating on my mind, like I couldn't stand to hear their same voices anymore. I was annoyed at myself, too, every time I said something. Why did I have to say that? I've said that a million times now. I needed new voices. And yet, I also loved their sounds because of how familiar they were becoming.

It became only possible for us to go in short bursts. Walking for fifteen minutes, stopping for five. Walking for ten, stopping for five. Walking for ten, stopping for five. Then, we could only do about five minutes at a time. Walk five, stop for ten. Walk five, stop for ten. At last, we walked for three, then stopped and I could tell none of us had any intention of starting again. We silently agreed not to care, not to pressure each other. It was over. Perhaps we would take a nap.

There was a yell. "Look who we found!!" It was David's voice. The boys were coming over the top of a hill, and ran down a sandy bank toward us. I don't know what the other girls did but I hopped to my feet and ran with all my strength to David and hugged him tightly, then Caleb followed right behind him and I was overwhelmed with happiness to be in his arms again and so safe. We all sat around together for a time, and I sat on Caleb's lap with my arms around his neck, crying from relief. We immediately dove in to our two versions of the trip, finding out what the boys did when they couldn't find us, telling the boys all that had happened. (The other half of this story, how the boys and leaders had dealt with our disappearance, is a whole other thing) I said to everyone, "I... don't even know who I am anymore. How was I able to do all that? I don't feel like I know who I am." They told us that as soon as James had made it back to camp and told them we were safe, they left immediately to come get us and help us finish the end of our journey. They hadn't known we were even alive until that moment. They didn't bring their packs, so that they could carry ours. It was such a wondrous relief, getting to walk with my walking stick and without a pack on my back. But still, my achilles tendons were in too much pain. Every step hurt. "How close are we to camp?" I asked the boys. "We're really close! You only have about an hour of hiking left." An hour? So long. How could I do another hour, with my tendons in this much pain? But I was able do it, with the joy of having new company.

I saw the car. Richard. James. We all crashed in content victory around a cold fire pit. I kept close track of my walking stick. They let us rip apart a round loaf of stiff bread. They even had butter and honey!

We made a fire and all processed everything that had happened. We watched the sun go down together, and explained what we each had learned, how our expectations had been so different from reality. I mentioned how deeply I had hated all of it. The anxiousness. The uncertainty. The pain. That I never would go camping again, not in a million years. But that if I really thought about it, Kelsey, Savannah and I had laughed the majority of the time. Probably ten times, Savannah had looked over at me while I was hideous and suffering, my lips and jaw hanging, or I'd say some dry comment, and she would burst out laughing at me, when nothing was funny. For whatever reason, Savannah thought I was hilarious, no matter what I did. I realized how ridiculous my face must look all the time, and her laughing at me always made me feel better. Kelsey asked us to go around and say a strength that we had noticed in one person. I chose Kelsey, and commented on her never-ending patience and stamina. Savannah chose me and said something about how funny I was, how everything I did made her laugh. We discussed how close we felt with the boys, even though we hadn't spent any time with them. Thinking of them so much had bonded us to them. The boys noticed the same thing. We all felt so close. At some point we over heard Joe tell Savannah that he loves her and gave her a hug. We were aware that he had been reticent to show her affection before.

After the fire was dying down Caleb told me that this wasn't where we were camping. The leaders were staying here, but we had better spot a couple of miles north. Miles? I thought. More miles? I was very reticent to go. Walking was beginning to be traumatic. "Trust me, it's worth it." He said. "Wait till you see this place." I walked with pain to our new site.

It was too dark to see what Caleb meant when we got there. We set up camp, as it was starting to get cold again. I called to sleep in between David and Caleb. But the system the girls had established for keeping warm was much better, and I woke up in the night colder than ever, and just sobbed. Cold again. Perhaps I cried because Caleb and David were there, and I didn't need to be so strong anymore. They were there, and I thought that meant the pain would end but it wasn't over. Eventually Caleb and David got up in the dark, I didn't know why, and they piled their blankets on top of me. Just warm enough to sleep for a little while. I woke again and they had started a fire and were talking. I got up and sat by the fire with them. They were having a deep conversation and I joined in. We had hours to go into depth about all the psychological changes and emotions we had been through. David said, "We've noticed something interesting about you Julia. You have been talking just like Kelsey. Yesterday when we saw you we couldn't believe how much your voice sounded like hers." We came up with the theory that I was so adaptable that in order to survive I had shed everything about my old self, my mind was a blank slate, and I had filled in the gaps with my mother-figure's personality. David said that it was an awesome kind of mind that could be that adaptable. I was very complimented. Honestly, it was a really refreshing experience to let go of all my usual mannerisms, the weird noises I make, the made up words I say, the inside jokes, my existentialism, my philosophies, all of it swapped out for something new, and good in its own way. We talked by the fire until the sun came up. It was one of the best mornings of my life.

Our campsite was finally visible. We were in a sandy clearing under a huge canyon wall. Up against the wall there was solidified mud from the last flash flood. There were relief sculptures and designs carved into the mud, that would be covered up by the next flash flood. I spent the day hobbling around, (my damaged Achille's heels keeping me at the speed of a centenarian, carving into the wall, and carving a spoon. Cooking was an all day task for us. Boiling water to drink, making stew, making ash cakes, it's all we did. We ate the stew with our newly carved spoons, which was so great compared to fishing it out with sticks. We called the ash cakes "b-shug pockets" because we would stuff brown sugar inside, fold over the dough (which was just white flour and water) and seal the edges with our mouths. I think semi-obscene jokes were made about this. (And if they weren't, they should have been.) I made one b-shug pocket that was way too big, verging on the size of a small pizza. It wouldn't cook and I waited and waited in vain, till at last I decided to eat it as is. I wiped the ash off best I could and ate more raw dough than I should have. I felt sick, and eating so much ash was starting to make my throat really sore.

James found some mint leaves. We boiled more water and made mint, brown sugar, and powdered milk tea. Luxury.

James had mentioned that there was a surprise for tonight, one more obstacle. My heart sank and I couldn't relax the rest of the day. The thought of hiking again was actually traumatic. He might make us do a solo night. He might make us find our way somewhere alone. I might get lost again. I drifted into sadness and fear and the thought that there was more to come.

At night-fall the obstacle was revealed. Richard took each of us away from the fire, one by one, and told us to follow a road, until we reached a new campsite they were setting up. It was my turn. "Now, your friend here has broken her leg." He played. "Can you walk to the next city to find help?"
"How many miles?" I asked
"5..? 6, 8..10?" So no clear answer of how long I would be walking in the dark alone. 5 miles seemed doable. 10 would be a true challenge.
I accepted the task and moved ahead. There was no moon out. It was so dark that I could barely see the road I walked on. Everything was black. The little flashes and patterns in my eyes were much brighter and more distinct that the outlines of the road, so I had to concentrate very hard on how to walk straight, and not fall off the edge, as the road began climbing up a hill. At first the severe darkness was playing tricks on my vision. I though I saw movement here and there. I saw bears on my left, and cougars wandering on my right. I held my walking stick in both hands, out in front of me, parallel to the ground, ready to protect myself. I realized I had to get a hold of my brain, it was running a bit wild. A few miles in, I had to pee and stopped off the side of the road. At this point, I had a very strange moment, that, this was in fact my life. I was somewhere in the desert, utterly alone, in complete darkness, with my pants down. How had my decisions in life brought me to this particular moment?

A while later, I saw a car coming slowing down the road. It had to have been the leaders, driving to the new campsite, but instinctively I ran off the side of the road and hid like a little animal, completely out of sight.

I thought this time alone might be spent musing on deepities or self-exploration, but there weren't many thoughts in my head. Just darkness, and moving forward, and combating the mind tricks. Holding my stick. Listening to how loud silence could be. My ankles roaring with pain. Realizing how much I disliked asphalt. Wet sand was much nicer on the knees. Wondering how many miles I had come. I realized if I turned on my phone, it would count my steps. Cheating, but, too tempting not too. I heard steps behind me, and knew someone in the group was catching up with me. It was David. We were supposed to pass silently if we saw anyone else, but it was too hard not to stay together and talk. It was wonderful to pass the rest of the time with him. The moon came up and we finally got too see the terrain we were walking through. Hills after hills, valleys, flat ground for miles in every direction.
"Look where we are."
"How are we here right now."
It was silent and blue and beautiful.
"I bet the camp is just after that next hill..." We both said many times before it was true.
We split up when we saw a light in the distance. The campfire. We wanted to enter camp alone, like we were supposed to, and be received alone for our accomplishment.
I got to camp and already there was James, Richard, Kelsey, Savannah, and Joe. James greeted me with a hug. They had chosen a shallow wash with fluffy soft sand to sleep in. David came a few minutes later, then Caleb, then Jon. Reunited, we built a fire and curled around it as we slept.

In the morning, my eyes opened and in the distance I noticed a strange shape on top of a tall steep hill. The sun was coming up bright behind it. Is that a person? It was shaped like a human sitting with crossed legs, but it couldn't be, it was too still, like stone. Caleb woke up too. "Is that David?" He asked. "Nah, it can't be David." I said. "I've been watching it, It hasn't moved an inch. That's just an interesting formation." But the formation stood up after quite some time and came back to camp.
"David, we thought you were a rock. How did you stay so still."
"I was meditating."
He had the right idea.

I tied my blanket roll for the last time. As we crammed into a car together, I suddenly realized why James had told us to bring an extra set of clothing, and wished I'd listened. Driving back I had this distinct sense that I didn't want to turn my phone back on. I knew that my mom would want to know we had survived, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Because I didn't need it. I didn't need to write a facebook post about it. I didn't need to tell anyone. I didn't need to share to feel real. And as soon as I turned on my phone I knew I would slowly start needing it again. In fact, I would start needing everything again. I never knew how many needs of mine were unnecessary. That in reality, they were there just to be unfulfilled. Just to make me unhappy. That I had a list of 40 to 50 things that had to be just right in order for me to be content, but that in the desert I only needed these things:

To be warm.
To have enough food and water to keep my mind functioning.
To have locational certainty, or a path to follow.
To connect with my companions.

That was it. That was all that was needed for perfection, and for the first time in my life, I reached perfection many times in just a few days.

Things I learned I didn't need:
A phone.
A foam pad or mattress to sleep on.
A pillow.
A lot of toilet paper.
A glass of water on my bed stand when I go to sleep.
To fall asleep watching a show.
8 hours of sleep
To eat 3 giant meals a day. (We are eating way, way more food than we need. Your body can hike 40 miles on less than a cup of sludge a day, trust me.)
Clean clothes.
Utensils.
Toilets.
Ibuprofen
Pristine water
Constant thoughts. (It's totally possible, and ok to empty your mind for a while.)
Constant serious/ philosophical/ political discussions.

To argue about these things.
To feel strange around people who think differently than me.
And a whole lot more. I'm still working on this list.

2 noteworthy experiences in the aftermath of this journey:
Laying on a memory foam bed for the first time. This wasn't OK. I couldn't even. You don't know. You don't know how comfortable your bed is. I crawled onto the bed and my hands and knees were enveloped by the surface, cradled to almost an obscene amount. My sharp places were melting like butter, sinking like quicksand. The surface excused itself away from my bruised hips, didn't put up a fight. I'm so grateful to have this particular feeling in my memory. It stands alone.

We had planned to have dinner with my whole fam in celebration. There was just enough time to fit in a nap. Caleb and I dozed off and when we awoke, the adrenaline now gone, desperation no longer keeping our brains afloat, we were thrust into another dimension. Of tiredness. We had gotten no more that 1-2 hours of sleep for a week, and this was the affect on our brains. We couldn't even communicate properly. We comprehended that we were late for dinner, that we had slept too long, but couldn't understand why, could figure out what was going on. We were yelling, blaming each other, stumbling around, in a blur we drove in this state to Bombay House, still whining almost unconsciously, suddenly realizing we were fighting but couldn't remember why. "What's going on??" We kept saying. "What is happening??" The nap had opened a pandora's box. Finally coming to terms with our reality, we were nice again, and ate dinner like happy zombies. I realized, this is sleep deprivation. This is what young mothers are always talking about. This is serious shit. This is why they struggle so much.

I know now my body and my brain can come through for me, no matter what I ask of it. They can do it. And now it's time to go to Istanbul...

Julia Helen L. L.

orange

Monday, June 29, 2015

The crop

Saturday, June 06, 2015

I really really hate you

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Utah means

Monday, February 16, 2015

The Unabridged Story of Surviving in Southern UT

About Me

My Favorite Sites

Blog Archive