The next topic I've been meaning to post is of a monumental excursion Spencer and I took to Great Basin National Park. It's only 4 hours away, in-the-middle-of-nowhere-Baker, NV (but what part of Nevada isn't?) and is a rather small, less popular park (one of the only parks with free admission). We arrived Friday evening and immediately got our Jr. Ranger packets, park maps, and stamped our National Park book. We drove through the park to the Wheeler Peak Campground where we listened to a park ranger give a campsite/fireside lecture about the Pony Express (Spencer has been reading the biography of Porter Rockwell which has ignited in him a feverish interest in the Pony Express so when we got to the park and saw this topic was on the agenda for that night we knew how we'd be spending the evening....did I mention we live on Pony Express Rd? Also that on our way to NV Spencer took us on the back roads that follow most closely the old Pony Express trail??). We spent the night at the Lower Lehman Campground and slept in the back of my truck under a full moon...divine.
With Saturday morning came the whole reason for our trip. We were there to climb Wheeler Peak. At 13,063ft it is the second highest peak in Nevada and by the afternoon we would be standing on top of it. This was my first summit and I was pumped, go for launch, and feeling invincible. The climb took us about 3 1/2 hours (not shabby since the ranger mentioned it could take anywhere from 2 to 10 hours).
*I'm glad I'm writing this post two weeks later rather than a few days after because it was one of the most mentally trying things I've ever accomplished. Really, I had no idea climbing a mountain would be such a mental game.*
Once we got to the mountain ridge I kept wishin' we could be done. Every time I prepared myself to look up the trail I kept hopin' we would be miraculously closer to the peak. While climbing I kept thinkin': why am I doing this? why did I want to do this? When I'm done I want a cheeseburger with french fries. Most of the time...ok, the whole time I was prayin' I'd survive, that the heavens would part and that the Lord would send me a chariot of fire (like he did with Elijah) that would carry me to the top...and that the Lord would let me use it on the way back down.
I worked so hard not to complain (and Spencer was such a champ for coaching me along) and the only thing that kept me from tears was hearing the thirteen year old boy scout, a few feet below us practically being pulled up the mountain by his leader, boo-hooin' like a baby. Listening to his sobs made me realize how pathetic I would look if I started crying; so although in my mind I was sitting on the rocks wailing right along with him I opted to 'suck-it-up-princess' and move right along (because there was definitely no going back....although the thought crossed my mind a time or two--or twenty).
After what seemed like years....we made it. I was ExHAuStEd and hungry and ready for a nap. Once we got to the top we took a picture of our feet and the geological marker (a Taylor tradition) and then got a photo of us together at the top (proof I made it) then collapsed for lunch and a mental replay of all that had just happened. Then I realized, we had to go back down. While at the top we visited with other climbers who all seemed to be impressed, or thought Spencer and I were crazy, for hiking in sandals. The majority of people called them flip-flops but I assure you that we were wearing Chacos and Tevas which are hiking sandals and we made it up just fine. Really, the footwear held true to their reputation (but I did feel pretty tough for making it in sandals). The way down was a struggle as well because Wheeler Peak is a steep pile of shale and I had awakened a previous groin muscle injury from flag football during my college days so it was slow going for me. Spencer likes to run down mountains, literally, the man hops and leaps like a mountain goat...or mountain lion (that's a cooler animal to reference...who wants to be likened to a goat?) and I, always the worry wort, can't bring my self to pick up that much speed.
A long and strenuous story short, we made it down, in time to get our ranger badges. We stopped in Nephi at the One Man Band Diner and I got my cheeseburger with french fries and we slept like babies all night and late into the morning (thank goodness for 1:00 p.m. church). Now I can say I'm proud of myself and grateful for an angelic and patient husband/best friend and I'm almost ready to try climbing another mountain (but don't tell Spencer because he keeps mentioning Timpanogos and I said almost). Below are some pictures from the trip (please don't judge me for my sorry looking feet...they did just climb a mountain).
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