The Hike from Hell

In honor of Thanksgiving....

The setting: A townhouse just off of 9th East behind Gold's Gym.
The characters: Six female roommates attending Brigham Young University studying various and unrelated subjects. Two are from Texas, two are from Hong Kong, and two are from Mexico City.
Languages spoken: Eight. Cantonese, Mandarin, Thai, Spanish, French, Japanese, Italian and English....some times ALL at the same time. Answering the shared telephone was interesting.

Our tale opens at the beginning of a new Fall semester at Brigham Young University. Six women move into the same condo. We have two sisters from Mexico City, Esther and Jania, who mostly stay in their room and keep to themselves. There are two childhood friends from Hong Kong, Carol and Worthy, who cook divinely and have many Chinese cooking celebrations. (Have I mentioned I LOVE home cooked Oriental food?) There is me, the Nerd Princess Extraordinaire aka The Sun Goddess. And there is another girl from the Houston, Texas area, Heather, whom I did NOT know prior to moving in. Houston is a large city, in case you didn't know this.

One day, I loaded the dishwasher and added the soap that was under the sink so that we might magically acquire clean dishes. I started the magic machine and sat at the kitchen table to do some research. A little while later, I got up to get a glass of water. I stepped in a rather large puddle of soapy water and immediately shut off the magic dish washing machine. Somehow the magic had gone afoul and water was pouring out of the bottom of the machine. This led to some discussion amongst the roommates and I called the apartment managers.

Enter the Potential Prince of our Tale: the Maintenance Man, Matt.

Matt checked out the dishwasher, found that I had inadvertently added LAUNDRY detergent to the dishwasher rather than DISHWASHER detergent, and this caused a gasket to rupture. This lead to an apartment discussion as to the acceptable location of laundry detergent in an American residential cultural experience, a new dishwasher, and Carol's infatuation with Matt.

Fast forward to Tuesday night, the week of Thanksgiving. Classes are out for the rest of the week in honor of the American gluttonous gastronomic tradition of giving thanks for what we have been given. We are hanging out in our townhouse with a few other female friends who were not going home for the long weekend. Carol comes in very excited and wants to know who wants to go with her, Matt, and Matt's brother, Mark, to the hot springs. She said if we didn't want to go, she was planning on going by herself.

Now, there is something you should know about me. On one hand I can be extremely stupid when it comes to strange men. (There's another story for later about a phone call from a stranger with the same last name as me, a ticket to a football game, and getting in a car with two men I had never met before. But that's for another time.) But, on the other hand, I am fiercely protective of any female friend who is planning on going out into the wilderness with a man she barely knows and his brother whom she has never met. So, after a few hours of discussion, and some dissuading by the men who lived in an apartment that I was the Queen of, we left Provo, UT around 11 PM heading for the hot springs up the canyon.

When I say we were going "up the canyon" I assumed we were going up American Fork Canyon, which I had been to before. Those hot springs are quite popular and are only a quick walk from where you can park your car. We drove south, to Spanish Fork Canyon. Did you know there are hot springs up there on BLM property? I bet you didn't, and neither did we. We ALL assumed that we were going to American Fork Canyon and had dressed, not for a 2.5 hour hike in the snow at midnight, but for a quick dip in the hot springs followed by a brisk run back to vehicles with heaters. Mistake #1.

Mistake #2 came when, after hiking for 20 minutes, I mentioned to Mark that I couldn't smell the hot springs and as the temperature was supposed to drop due to a storm coming down from Canada, we should probably head back home. Mark said he knew where we were going and it was just 10 more minutes. And. He. Took. Off. He was so convinced he knew where the springs were and that they were just a few minutes ahead that he couldn't admit that he had estimated the time wrong. Had I known then how to drive a manual transmission and what would happen later, they would not have found his body.

We hiked through the snow. And hiked. And hiked. And hiked. Until we came to an icy cliff with a sheer drop off that we were supposed to make our way down, hugging the mountain so we didn't slip off the narrow trail. The hot springs were directly below. At this point, we were all so cold that the thought of getting in the hot springs was preferable to hiking back. We needed to get warm. The temperature was between 20 and 30 degrees F and none of us had gloves, winter coats, or snow boots. We each did have a change of underwear and a towel though, which is probably why we survived the hike back to the vehicles.

It was now roughly 1 o'clock in the morning and we stripped down to our bathing suits to get in the hot springs. I don't know how long we were there but I remember the water being very, very hot and having to sit on a rock in the freezing air, exposed, to try not to over heat and then slipping back in the water when I got cold. This is not a good thing and I recommend you NOT do this. EVER. Eventually the storm that was forecast started to make itself known as big fat snowflakes began to descend from the sky. It was decided at this point that we should probably get dressed and head home.

The guys went off into the night to change so the girls could have their privacy. I immediately stripped down to my skin and dried off with my towel, trying to get as much blood flowing as possible before putting on my cold, but dry clothing. As I was standing there, naked to to the world, Carol fell over, vomiting. I knew that it was more important at this point for me to get dry and dressed before helping her. I have never gotten dressed so quickly in my life nor cared less about the world seeing me in all my naked glory. The other girls were not fairing well either. We were all suffering from the beginning stages of hypothermia and exposure. It is not a good idea to lay on the frozen earth, naked, so I began yelling at Carol.

"Get up right now! You have got to get dressed! I know you do not feel well and want to go to sleep but you have got to get up and get moving. Carol, you can NOT go to sleep! I need you to talk to me. Get your ass moving and get dressed--RIGHT NOW!"

Slowly, Carol began to climb to her feet. By this time I was fully clothed and so were a few of the other girls and we were able to help each other. The guys came back and we began the hike back. Someone looked at their watch and announced that it was a little after 3 AM. And thus began the part that I only vaguely remember due to mild hallucinations.

There is a point when you have hypothermia where you don't feel cold anymore. It is an odd thing because you feel warm even though you are aware that you no longer feel your fingers, toes, nose, or lips. The snow begins to look rather soft and inviting, almost like a large carpet of cotton and feathers that glistens seductively in the moonlight. It beckons you to lie down and rest, just for a few minutes. It calls to you telling you it is okay to sit and rest your legs. After all, when you're hiking a mountain you stop to sit every once and awhile to take a break. The temptation to give in to the softness is very, very enticing.

I began to walk slower and slower until it was just me and Mark at the back of the line. I told him I was tired and needed to sit down. He wouldn't let me. (It's probably a good thing I didn't kill him but if it weren't for him I wouldn't have experienced this so there's a blame/gratitude associated with his face in my head.) He kept pushing me to keep going by telling me he'd let me sit down as soon as we got to a certain landmark. Big fat liar. When we got to each landmark, he would tell me that I remembered wrong and point out a tree or rock further ahead. He kept egging me on, telling me I was being a bit of a pansy, and generally making me hate his guts just to keep me walking. I wanted to get away from him.

The realization that it would be so easy to lie down, go to sleep, and never wake up came upon me quite suddenly. And I wondered if that would be such a bad thing.

I don't remember if it was the fact that death was so close to me in that moment, or if I was so delusional from exposure, but the thought that I thought it wouldn't be so bad to lay down and die snapped something inside me. I became very afraid that I would die on that mountain. I wouldn't see my family or friends again. I saw an image in my head of this guy I knew and I wanted desperately to see him again. Stephen was at home for Thanksgiving or he would have gone with us instead of just trying to talk me out of going like two of his roommates, Dustin and Lukas, attempted to do. I began to hear his voice in my head, urging me to keep going.

"Don't you want to get home so we could watch Naruto next Friday? And remember how we were planning on going to see that Japanese film? I'd rather watch it with you than go to your funeral, babe. Dozo! Get moving! What other girl can I have a private conversation with in public simply by quoting Star Wars? Keep moving! Keep the blood circulating. You know you want to thru-hike in Glacier Park. Think of this as a tiny practice in what NOT to do when you plan your trip."

Every time I tried to sit down, Mark would steer me back on the trail and Stephen's stupid voice in my head would not shut up. Eventually I saw the fence that marked the access road where the trucks were parked. I almost cried. We were 5 minutes from the vehicles and we had made it. We got in the trucks, cranked the heater on high just as the sun peaked over the Wasatch Mountains. Apparently even in my delirious state I am still myself, and in true smart-ass fashion, sarcastically mentioned how much fun this had been and that we should do it again. My friend, Tiffany, was not amused and hit me on the head.

We arrived home around 6 AM. I change my clothes and climbed into bed under my sleeping bag and quilts. Two hours later, I woke up with a fever and vomiting. I was very sick all day and had to ask Dustin to get me some Gatorade and crackers when I ended up at his apartment in my pajamas. He was extremely angry, but not at me. He wrapped me in his wool blanket, turned on the TV, and let me suffer in silence. Dustin served his LDS mission in Helsinki, Finland and knew what exposure can do to a person. He took care of me all day and introduced me to his parents later that evening. (That's not a story for another time.) I would have married Dustin if he had ever asked me.

Thanksgiving that year consisted of a Brazilian bean soup. I was the only one to suffer such ill effects for as long as I did. Luckily the other girls were okay and back to studying like Asians do after just a few hours of sleep, hot showers, and a good breakfast. It took me three days to feel normal again. I have never gone to another hot springs and no longer hike in the winter.