Why we should all be mountain rangers

(Warning: very long but awesome story ahead)

Quite a few years ago, I had an interesting and moving experience on a hike.

Here’s a teensy bit of background.  I love love love hiking.  I lived in Utah for 8 years (almost 12 if you count college) and would go hiking nearly every weekend of the summer.  There were dozens of hiking trails within about 20 minutes from my house, and I took full advantage.  

Ok, so, making our way back to my interesting experience.  There is a particular mountain very close to where I used to live called Mt. Timpanogos (which I will refer to as “Timp” from now on), and it’s frequented by many hikers.  I have, in total, hiked Timp four times, but it is no short hike.  It’s an all day excursion (it usually took me 10-12 hours) unless you’re abnormally athletic and want to run up and down the mountain.  The experience I’m about to share comes from my second trip.

My sister and I were, you guessed it, hiking Timp one summer.  We had hiked it once before a couple years previously but hadn’t been able to go all the way to the summit because of snow that was hanging around.  

It was a gorgeous day and the hike was beautiful.  We were enjoying nature and how breathtaking it all was.  Because of our inability to make it to the summit on our previous adventure, we decided that this time, we were definitely going to do it, and all things seemed to be going well and working in our favor.

We got a certain point in the hike where we were almost (depending on whom you ask) to the summit, but we knew we needed to turn around and head back if we wanted to be able to have daylight the rest of the way down.  We didn’t have night hiking gear or extra layers of clothing, so we made the smart choice and saved the summit for some other time.

On our way down from the upper portion of the mountain, we were heading downhill on a trail that was almost all loose-ish rock.  This is typical in this upper area where there isn’t much plant life or soil around because of the altitude.  No big deal, though, because it’s not like we were racing down the mountain.  We had time and weren’t in a hurry.

B’cept it actually became a big deal.

My sister ended up twisting her ankle a little bit on this stretch of the hike.  It was minor, but still, twisting an ankle sucks.  We slowed down on this portion to exert some extra caution so as not to make it worse since my sister was able to walk alright and wasn’t in too much pain.

We saw a mountain ranger hiking on the trail around this time.  He noticed that we had a slightly injured party, so he asked about it.  We explained the minor twist.  We knew that if we kept up at this pace, we would still be fine getting down the trail before it got dark.  The ranger was helpful and kind and wished us a safe rest of our hike.

However, as we continued to hike, as careful as we were, another twist happened to my sister’s ankle.  This one was worse, and as anyone who has ankles can attest, it hurt a lot and made using said ankle increasingly difficult.  Then it twisted again.  Our pace slowed dramatically, and the light of day disappeared quickly.  

There we were, not even a third of the way down the main stretch of the mountain, and dusk was upon us.  I had no headlamp, no flashlight, and we were getting cold quickly.  My sister was in tears from the pain (and probably the cold and stress and worry).  I was racking my brain for ideas of how to do this.  What could I use for light?  What could I do if we had to stop because it got too dark?  What could I do to keep us from freezing if we couldn’t make it all the way down?

All I had for light was a little (and not powerful) keychain light.  I held off using that until it became so dark that I couldn’t see on my own anymore.  That moment came pretty soon.  And boy oh boy did I pray.

I was the most scared I have ever been.

By the grace of God (and no, I’m not just using that as a phrase…I’m being serious), we made it down to the very last portion of the trail.  We were at a point of the hike where the trail was well-defined and we were past the most precarious parts of the path.  I finally started to feel like we were almost safe.  At the very least, we were more than halfway down the mountain.

As we were on the final chunk of the trail, I thought I saw some lights way up behind us.  I thought they might just be people camping, but I was desperately hoping that those lights were held by hikers who were on their way down.

As my sister and I kept trudging along, I looked back again and saw the lights, and they were moving in such a way that I knew they were on fellow hikers.  As soon as they were within earshot, I waved and called out to them.  As they approached, I explained our situation and asked if they would be willing to share one of their lights with us as we walked the rest of the way down.

So, these amazing people (who had obviously planned for their hike to extend into nighttime hours), did much more than that.  One of the men took his sweatshirt and cut it into pieces, then tied it in a brace around my sister’s ankle (hooray for boy scouts!).  Another hiker gave me her headlamp to use, and two strong men acted as crutches for my sister.  The group stayed with us the rest of the way down the mountain and even drove us a few miles down the road to our car.

And do you know what they said to us when they first approached us on the trail?

“You know, a mountain ranger told us to keep our eyes out for you.”

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This was such a moving experience to me.  

If you will, wax metaphorical with me for a minute.  My title for this post, “Why we should all be mountain rangers,” is obviously not a literal suggestion for one’s career choice.  

I like to think about the mountain ranger, who was having a normal day out on the job.  He saw us, noticed we weren’t doing that great, inquired after us, and gave us encouragement.  BUT, the kicker to me was the fact that, as he ran across other hikers, he told them to watch for us.  I would bet that this group of people, who quite literally rescued us, was not the only one the ranger encountered.  And I bet he told other people to keep their eyes out for us too.

Though I believe this group of people would have helped us regardless of whom else they may have talked to on their hike down the mountain, I feel like the insightful words from the ranger may have prompted them to look for us.

We should be mountain rangers because we all need someone to look out for us.  We all need someone to care about us.  We all need rescue on occasion.  

Let’s keep our eyes open for those who might need help, either now or down the road, and let’s pass the word along to others we think can help in the effort to rescue one another.