Green Canyon Yurt

Sore and invigorated is how I would describe myself right now. Smelly is the word that others in my group might choose. I just got home from an overnight trip to the yurt at the top of Green Canyon, near Logan UT. I’d like to say I’m sore from the Herculean effort to pull a sled loaded down with luggage and food and other extremely heavy items for 4 miles to the yurt, in the snow, uphill (both ways!).   But the less impressive and more reasonable truth is that much of the soreness comes from wipe-outs spills and thrilling wrecks, all at the crazy out of control cross-country skiing speed of around 6 miles per hour! Though others tried to match my lack of finesse, they were mostly left feeling jealous. Although I will state for the record that Jessie had the most impressive ski moves on the return trip which I would describe as cross-country ballet or falling with incredible style. She really impressed the judges!

A few months ago, this crazy idea was born to spend the night in a yurt, located away from roads and civilization, with our fates left up to the whim of the elements and our fire building skills. Over time, the group grew to 7 of us and the destination became the yurt at the top of Green Canyon, at the end of a 4 mile trail. On an overcast Friday, we all met, many for the first time, at the Aggie Station near USU for a delicious little lunch before the start of our trek. Robin finished lunch first and wanted to go. Now! She wanted to pick out the best bed so she wanted to be first to the yurt, but she didn't know how to get to Green Canyon. Because ‘I’ also wanted to pick the best bed in the yurt, I gave her directions that would take her to Bear Lake and Preston, ID and sent her on her way (the destination was really less than 3 miles away). I under-estimated her desire and crazy driving because she still beat us to the parking lot! She told me the drive had been really pretty, though a little blurry.

Lorraine and Bill, trying to pass me. I wouldn't let them...

We were an awesome sight! And when I say awesome, I mean a curious and motley sight, with our rented skis and our sleds for hauling junk and our packs of all sizes and shapes. Eric and Jessie took turns hauling a backpack stuffed and tied up with snowshoes and sleeping bags and other stuff in a way that totally defied gravity to the amazement of all who passed. And there were many who passed us. Some of our sleds looked like the one on “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.” And with a hearty, “I guess we should go…” we were off!

As I pulled a sled piled high with 2 sleeping bags and a small cooler (Hey, those sleeping bags were heavy!!), I was reminded of a film I recently saw at the Banff Film Festival held at USU. Two intrepid Australians walked unsupported over 1100 kilometers (not sure the translation of that into the more proper American ‘miles’, but it couldn't have been any further than it was to the yurt) pulling these massive sleds that contained all the supplies they needed for 3 months of human-powered travelling. I finally understood the fortitude and perseverance the 2 men displayed. I felt a kinship with them and truly understood their travails. Their joy at reaching the South Pole could not have been greater than mine when the yurt, our destination, came into sight! I fell to my knees in gratitude for having successfully completed the arduous journey…

“Mommy, is that man dead?”

“Just keep skiing dear. Pretend you don’t see him.”

They really should close this trail to the general public and restrict it to REAL explorers…

After the initial scuffle that broke out about the bed assignments (Robin won), the 7 of us, 4 women and 3 men) began acclimating to our new surroundings. We got a fire started, collected snow for drinking water, played some ping-pong and generally relaxed for a bit. Eric was the fire starter and I wanted to be admired like he was so I tried to help once but I let in so much smoke that the smoke alarm screamed at us and then I was relegated to building steps in the snow down to the bathroom. Early the next morning, Bill started the fire and Eric later stoked it and the women said they were really thankful to the MEN for keeping the fire burning. I started to tell them that I was one of the men too, but sensing the environment wasn't right, I went and checked on the condition of the bathroom steps instead.

What do you do at a remote yurt, miles from electricity and running water? We ate a delicious dinner of white chicken chili (provided by Jessie) and cornbread muffins (from Bobbi); we shared stories about our lives and in the process learned that we are not alone, had an awesome snowball fight, and went skiing and snowshoeing under the stars. The night weather was so pleasant that we took the chairs outside and talked and laughed and felt the stresses of expectations and responsibilities slip away temporarily. We made group snow angels (best not to ask…), enjoyed homemade cookies as well as hot chocolate and some in the group thought it would be funny to hide in the dark and scare poor little Huffyman as he (I) skied down the trail under the starlight. Just to make them happy, I pretended to be surprised by their sudden flash of light from under the trees and went into a full splits rollover maneuver, tangling myself in skis and snow, just as I’d practiced for weeks in anticipation of such an opportunity. I think they were impressed. Bill kept us entertained with his wonderful story-telling and anyone passing by the cheerily lit yurt that night would have smiled at the friendly laughter emanating from within, and probably would have guessed this to be a group of old friends. Some of us were, indeed old, but the truth is that each of us had only known one or two others in the group before this day. What an awesome way to get to know new friends!

Eric and Jessie, ready to head home

The next morning brought sparkling sunshine along with pancakes, bacon and eggs, courtesy of Bill and Lorraine. Bill even brought his secret coconut syrup to share, which was lusciously delicious! With renewed energy, we cleaned up, packed up, and headed down the hill toward civilization. As mostly beginning skiers, we were an entertaining group as the trail was much different going down than it had been the previous day! The sled I was pulling had a mind of its own and would often choose a different path than the one I took. At one point, I thought the scraping of the snow from the sled sounded like, “That Huffyman don’t know what he’s doing no how.” I thought about correcting the sled’s English, but there were others watching…  It was a playful sled, as evidenced by the time it chose to knock Bobbi down! I swore up and down that it was the sled and not me. Still not sure she believed me. On one long and icy hill, I frantically attempted to slow myself down from my out of control breakneck speed and as I did, my sled appeared beside me, going just a little faster than I was! We raced for a bit, but I finally just gave up and let the sled pull me the rest of the way.

As we 7 friends parted ways at the Green Canyon parking lot, the handshakes and politeness of the previous day gave way to heartfelt hugs and genuine desire to play together again. The Green Canyon yurt became our refuge from the world and a spark for friendship. As I write this the next day, the warmth of the experience is still strong. I will not soon forget the master storyteller sharing his last story of the night, just as we were preparing to drift into well-deserved slumber… A story of Golden Delicious apples and of God’s love and of friendship. Thanks Bill, and the others, for helping write another sweet chapter of life.