FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: Lost in Yellowstone (chapter 28)
CHAPTER 28
“10 1/2 miles from the end.”
After crossing that cold, knee-high river that morning, I immediately entered into a deep, dark wilderness that was more like bear country than perhaps any we had been in. The early-morning hour, with a thick fog hanging in the trees, made it more so. Early morning is the right time, and this deep-wooded forest I was traveling in would be the best place. All morning long I kept my bear spray in my hand, ready, and I sang all the hymns I knew. I could see why Todd did not care to travel in the early hours, because, clearly, the chances of encountering a bear were greater at those cold and foggy hours of dawn.
For me, I’d already faced a Grizzly and had lived to tell about it – at least, I had for one night. I say that with a smile, because you wouldn’t think that somebody with my kind of ‘self-proclaimed’ confidence would feel the need to be singing more hymns than the bears lurking around could ever had hoped to hear in such an early-morning hour. In my defense, it is one thing to feel safe, but – like strolling through a graveyard at night – it doesn’t mean you still don’t want to whistle a little as you’re hiking through bear country. You know, whistle because you’re so happy. If a little whistling and singing have the added benefit of deterring a bear from coming out of the brush to eat you, then that’s all right, too.
I say I was ‘singing’ – More accurately, I was doing more humming that morning, because I remember that an ulcer had popped up on the back of my tongue, making it hurt to sing (I blame it on that ‘disagreeable’ dehydrated meal I consumed the night before). I figured the bears didn’t necessarily need the actual words to get themselves in the right spirit anyway. I am glad of it, because I was counting on them being totally in the spirit that morning. There is little doubt we had a full congregation of bears within earshot of those early morning hymns.
Perhaps it was because my legs had an unexpected amount of strength those early hours, or because I realized that the end was in sight, I don’t know – but I was ‘chipper’ as I was humming my way along. I thought back to one of our conversations as Roy, Randy, Todd, and I began making our way toward Yellowstone after our Sunday worship in Riverton, Wyoming. We hadn’t been in the car long before I decided to share my one bear story.
“All right, guys,” I had said, riding shotgun as we were getting onto Highway 26 West headed toward Yellowstone, “I have one bear story to tell, and that’s it.”
No one objected, so I continued.
“There was a man out in the wilderness hikin’ late one evenin’ when a big bear came out on him,” I said, not knowing the irony of it at the time.
“When the bear came out on him,” I continued, casting a glance back to see if Todd was listening from the backseat, “the man just started to run for all he was worth, but the bear was right behind him. The scared man ran up against a big rock and had nowhere to run so just started prayin’ right there. He had to pray fast because the bear was comin’ in a hurry.
“‘Oh, Lord,” he prayed, “please make this bear that’s chasin’ me a Christian.” About that time, with the big bear right there on him, the bear screeched to a halt, not five feet from him, then dropped down to his knees, put his front two furry paws together, and began to pray. The man, shocked, thought that was really a good sign, until he heard the prayer.
“Lord,” the bear said with his eyes lifted up to heaven, “I wanna thank ya for the food I’m ‘bout to receive.”
With that we laughed, me most of all, I think, and that was my big bear-story contribution during our two-hundred-and-eighty-mile journey that Sunday afternoon.
The four of us would have other good conversations on that four-hour trek. It was on that leg of the trip – in a section before we hit U.S. 287 North, the final stretch of the way – that Roy pulled out with his “No man crosses the same river twice” mantra. With the beginning of the hike now almost upon us, we had been talking about how it was a trip for a lifetime. You can easily imagine the scene being the opening clips of a movie, four friends driving to the heart of Yellowstone to see if a defining moment lay in wait for them there. We knew that the trip was life-changing, somehow, even if no one knew just how or to what proportions. But if you multiplied what we had thought, and I had thought, at the beginning by a hundred, you would be pretty close to what it really turned out to mean when you say, “No man ever crosses the same river twice.”
I remember Roy went on to explain about the quote, “The man who steps into that river the second time is a different man because he has had different experiences,” he had said, “and the water flowing down the river is different, making it a different river, too.”
True, indeed.
On this point, something needs to be said here. I've thought a great deal about Roy and Randy since our coming out. Even though they did not have the opportunity to cross all the rivers Todd and I did, they both played a big role in the
drama, even if it turned out to be a ‘set-up’ role. Randy’s skillful research and expertise in laying out the entire scheme for as far as he was able to go was key to it all, plus the many behind-the-scenes conversations back home during the time we were lost, conversations that included talks with the amazin’ blonde and Staci and the Hogans who had a firsthand view of the two hikers that Tuesday afternoon. Randy’s role would have increased dramatically had Saturday dawned and we were not out. He was setting his face to head out that morning to begin his own rescue mission to find us.
And Roy had planned the trip – ‘dreamed the trip,’ really – and his energy and passion served as great inspiration for the entire adventure, even now. His turned ankle two hours into that first evening was unfortunate, but we do not know if this was not the Lord’s saving him from some danger that lay ahead. Deep down, I believe that it was. As it turned out, our trip was kind of sharing his dream. Add to that, of course, his ‘river’ quotation that has gone with us ever since he uttered it, his contribution seems even greater.
I had many such thoughts as I walked the early steps of these final ten miles. But even though my mind was filled with a good many of these thoughts, I was careful not to forget to do some big-time humming, singing, and ‘whistling in the dark’ every small step that cool Wyoming morn.
And, I’ve been thinking, if I ever decide to write a hiker’s ‘Guide to Bears’ book one day, be sure to remind me to include this key bit of wisdom: When you are hikin’ early morning – or anytime, for that matter – remember that a man can never do enough hummin’, whistlin’, and singin’ as he goes along.
And gospel songs are probably the best – you know, just in case.