As I begin this week’s article, I am traveling across the plains of New Mexico with the Wild Bunch, a group of guys who are a significant part of my journey. We are returning from a backpacking trip to the Pecos Wilderness in the mountains northeast of Santa Fe.

As I was anticipating this trip, I knew it would complicate my regular writing schedule. My original plan was to get this article written before I left, and was feeling some pressure around that. But then God reminded me that these articles are about sharing my journey, and that I shouldn’t get ahead of that journey.

So this week, we are going to take a detour from our ongoing discussion for a retreat into the wilderness with God.

Thanks for joining me.

This little expedition was intended to be a trial run for a longer, fast and light trip we were contemplating next summer. The plan was to attempt a 15 mile loop in a little more than three days. I knew that our goals were ambitious, especially since we would be setting out the first day, after having driven all night from sea-level to 8200 feet elevation. The combination of sleep deprivation and extreme elevation change would certainly stack the deck against us. But we wanted to get an idea of how our legs would respond to consecutive days on the trail under pack.

One of the great things about the backcountry is that all the illusions of control that we have in the front country are stripped away. The sun doesn’t care about your schedule, the weather about your comfort, nor the terrain and elevation about your ambitions. You must adjust your agenda to their dictates or suffer the consequences.

Our encounter with these realities began immediately. We had planned to hit the trail by about 10:00 am on Friday. It was 2:00 pm when we actually got started. Sunset would be at 4:53. Which means we had less than 3 hours to reach our target campsite before dark. As you may have noticed from the picture, none of us are exactly small guys, and all of our packs weighed between 47 and 57 pounds. That coupled with our sleep deprivation and rapid elevation change made the prospects of success unlikely.

I should mention that while our original goal was to test the limits of our legs, mission creep had influenced our planning. The possibility of summiting a nearby 12,500 foot peak was irresistible, and we chose that first night’s campsite because it put us in position to attempt the summit Saturday morning, before some forecasted snow moved in on Sunday.

The problem was that this first campsite was 5.8 miles away, and that our route would take us up and along a ridge for 4.8 of those miles, during which we would have no access to a water source. We each carried enough for our own consumption, but planned to get water from streams for cooking, as well as replenishing our personal supplies.

By the time we were nearing the top of the ridge, we had climbed over 1400 feet in elevation, the ground was mostly snow-covered, and twilight was fading. The last water we had seen was 1.9 miles behind us, and, according to the map, our next hope of water lay 2.9 miles ahead. And we were spent.
We were going to have to make a dry camp. In the snow. (We discussed melting snow, but the snow was so shallow and contained so much debris that this was not a viable option at this point.)

We had been considering our options for the past half-hour, and knew that with the water we were carrying, we could make supper and breakfast, with a little left over to get us down the trail. But we would have to be conservative. No hot drinks with supper. And breakfast would involve limited hot rations, supplemented with trail snacks.

The night was cold. When we headed for bed at 8:00 pm, it was 34 degrees. At a little under 10,000 feet elevation, it was going to get well into the 20’s, if not the upper teens by dawn. However, all of us managed to stay reasonably warm, save a few cold toes.

To this point, our situation was not serious. We were merely weary and uncomfortable. But failure to acknowledge the realities of our situation could quickly change that. Those realities included:

• Getting water was now critical. Not only to prevent dehydration, but to be able to keep warm.
• We were physically depleted. The long drive, sleep deprivation, and considerable physically exertion had left us with limited energy as we moved forward.
• If we proceeded to the intended campsite, we would be 5.8 miles in, and have just over a day to cover what had just taken us two days to hike. And we risked having to make this return trip in an even more weary condition if we didn’t sleep well that night, which was a real possibility, given the elevation.
• If the forecast snowstorm dropped even 3-4 inches, the trail would disappear. Finding our way back out could become significantly more complicated, especially if the snow fell hard enough to white out the surrounding landmarks.
• At least three of us were experiencing symptoms of altitude sickness. The proper treatment for this is to rest at the current elevation for two or three days, or descend. Proceeding to the intended campsite would involve another strenuous hike and a gain of almost 500 feet of additional elevation.

As I awoke on Saturday morning, all of these realities were on my mind. While I had talked them over with God, I had not had a chance to talk them over with the rest of the Wild Bunch.

And I was concerned. All of us are determined men who push through difficulties to achieve the goals we set for ourselves. Even acknowledging the above realities, there was a part of me that initially felt resistance to abandoning our original plan – our agenda. It felt weak. Felt like we would be quitting. And since I was the experienced backpacker of the group, I was concerned that the other guys might not see these realities as clearly I did. If I could see these things and was still reluctant to abandon the agenda, I was concerned they would insist on pushing on.

If they did, I was going to have to have the strength to insist that we alter our agenda and turn back to a lower elevation and the stream we had left 1.9 miles behind us. In this situation, I recognized an issue that God has been addressing in my life. I hate being the one guy who stands up, and is the sole reason that others do or do not pursue a certain course of action. I’m happy to point out facts that support a given course of acton, but I want them to choose it because they see it is best, not solely on my say so. But God is showing me that there are times where that is exactly what needs to happen. And our current situation felt like a teachable moment that God had allowed to develop to work on this issue in my life. If I am to be the man God has called me to be, if I am to pursue His pleasure, I am going to have to be that guy.

As it turns out, our experiences had begun to cause the other guys to question the wisdom of continuing according to our original agenda. As I began to state my position and reasons, we all quickly agreed. We would return to the creek we had left behind and find a camping spot. There we could replenish our water, cook a hot lunch, and build a fire.

A couple of hours, and 2.2 miles later, we were setting up camp not far from Panchuela Creek. The site was perfect with flat places for our tents and an established campfire ring.

We went to the mountains to see how many miles we could hike day after day. God knew we needed rest, the beauty and relaxation of a gurgling stream, and the deep fellowship of a band of brothers, shared around a campfire.

All we had to do was let go of our agenda.

Where do you find the realities of your life challenging your agenda? Does God want you to persevere, or let go of your agenda? How do you know?