It was not what I expected, because frankly, I had no idea what I was getting into. And that was probably a really good thing.
A few years ago, with just days to spare, my brother-in-law Jon called to offer us two vacant spots on a three-day mountain biking trip to Canyonlands National Park in Utah. Like next weekend. Were we interested?
My husband started packing within minutes of the call. I was invited to come, not as a cyclist -- which I am not-- but to ride shotgun in the support vehicle, run parts of the infamous 100-mile White Rim Trail, and enjoy the camaraderie of wilderness camping and speechless views.
When I hesitated. my husband encouraged me. "It's gonna be epic."
Within days, we were on the road, some 1520 miles each way. We left Friday evening, drove straight through the night and staked our tent in Moab on Saturday night.
On Monday morning, we convened at the dirt road entrance to the White Rim. Looking down at the incredibly steep switchbacks of a extremely narrow gravel two-way "road," I realized it was only wide enough for one vehicle. Yikes.
A few minutes later, the ten cyclists decided that the group really needed more than one support vehicle. They handed me the keys to a small 4 wheel drive pick-up. I've never driven a truck before. Keep your eyes ahead and don't look down.
The Bible says to pray without ceasing. There was no problem with that. I vacillated between "O LORD, have mercy" and "Thank You, LORD" for getting me through. I learned that trusting God involves facing sheer fear.
The route could have been adequately named the White Knuckle Trail. There was rarely an indication of a defined road. It was more like guess where it goes, avoid the abyss three feet from your wheels, and try not to scrape the side of the vehicle as it ascends the narrow squeak of a rock-hugging cliff.
"Who led you through the great and terrifying wilderness, with its fiery serpents and scorpions, and thirsty ground, where there was no water...? Deuteronomy 8:15
All ten cyclists, both trucks, and the drivers survived. And epic was not big enough to describe it. When we returned home, everyone responded, "You did what?!?"
A landmark is not what we have done or endured, but what this endeavor does to us. We cannot but be changed by it.
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets
