Ain't No Sissy Hike

I, Tyler, am an 11-year-old scout leader. I've been a Cub Master in the past, but 11-year scouts have moved beyond all the games and cheers, right?

Now, we're supposed to work on serious stuff like first aid, hiking, and camping. We still have fun of course, but I had become a little worried when Maleen confided in me that she was proud we didn't go on "Sissy Hikes."

Intrigued, I inquired exactly what constituted a "Sissy Hike." She explained that as a young girl in Girl Scouts she had resented the fact that the boys got to go do real hikes on mountains while the girls were constrained to paved asphalt. This stung a little as I remembered out last "hike" was up Provo Canyon toward Nunn's Park on what now I had come to define as a "Sissy Hike" paved trail.

Determined to never admit that I had, in fact, not only participated in a "Sissy Hike," but actually planned it; I decided our new hike would be no "Sissy Hike." We hiked Big Baldy, one of the small mountains jutting out of Timpanogos. Notice, I didn't say, "hill." It's a nice conical mountain, and as I explained to the boys, mountains only come in one size: steep.

We set out ok, but quickly found this terrain rather treacherous for the unaccustomed hiker. I was glad I brought extra rations of Gold Fish (hey, that's not a "Sissy" food, now shut up) and Gatorade. The boys made it the required distance near the saddle of Big Baldy, and then we definitely had to turn around. We had some of our boys bordering on physical exhaustion, one exhibiting signs of heat exhaustion, low water, low food, and a setting sun. It was time to go home.

The return hike was much easier than the ascent, so I took the opportunity to leisurely snap some shots with my GoPro. We'd come down most of the way and faced only a meadow followed by a close canyon and some rock terrace (about 3/4 of a mile left). I grabbed my last remaining chow, an apple, and took a moment to survey the canyon with my nox ("that awesome rugged hiker talk for "binoculars." Had I wished to go all military I would have said, "binos.")

Whether I was so awe-struck with the view, or confused about which word to call my "nox," or whether I'm just plain absentminded, it was there I snapped a shot with the GoPro, and deposited it in the weeds.

Thinking all was well, I continued on my path, stopping only to capture the grandeur of the canyon up close. The boys went on ahead down into the canyon while I searched in vain for the GoPro. At this point I only hoped I had left it somewhere, and that it hadn't tumbled out of my bag and down into the creek bed. I chased the boys down, told them I needed 15 minutes, that proceed to sprint back up the mountain.

Now sprinting on land is not this man's forte. Sprinting up mountains...well that doesn't last long. So I sprinted, ran, wheezed, crawled back up to the place I had stopped to drink in the canyon view. I approached what I believed in my sweaty, exhausted state to be the GoPro. It turned out to be a squarish looking rock. I resumed the exact stance I was in when I had the nox in hand, and sure enough, there was my GoPro, lying in the weeds. Always the historian, I snatched the opportunity (to rest) to record this monumental blunder followed by the impressive feat what shall hereafter be referred to as the "Big Baldy Sprint."

GoPro in hand, I returned to the boys and resumed the descent. Not long thereafter, we were at the car, and I was only mildly wheezing, which lasted until well after I was in bed asleep that night.

On Sunday, one of the boys actually took a moment to bear testimony about the experience (the hike, not "Big Baldy Sprint"). So, we must have done something right. But hey, this definitely qualifies as something other than a "Sissy Hike."

Here are a few of the shots I snapped on the GoPro (thank goodness I found it). Check out the colors in the leaves—definitely the right time of year to go!

Just a few scouts out enjoying nature around them.

This is the foot of Big Baldy. Yes, it's pretty imposing.

Walking the line. We had a rule that no one was allowed to fall off.