I first moved to Utah County forty years ago. I was a skinny, fresh-faced* kid, coming from Idaho to start my freshman year at BYU. (*”Fresh-faced” means, “I wasn’t shaving yet.”) And, at some point during that freshman year, I looked at the Y on the mountain and said to myself, “I’d like to hike to the top of that one of these days.”
Time passed. I eventually moved to Santaquin. Every year my wife will ask the kids and I, “what do you want to do this summer?” And every year I say, “I want to hike to the Y.” And every year I would find some reason not to do it. (Usually either weather or laziness.)
So, I was very pleased when my wife said, “Why don’t you and the kids hike the Y this Thursday?” I’m not sure if she suggested it because: a) she wanted to help me fulfill one of my goals; b) she got tired of me whining about not doing it; or 3) she wanted a few hours at home alone. Whatever the reason, a plan was in place.
The night before the hike, all four kids were pretty enthusiastic about it. The morning of the hike, they were a bit less excited, mostly because I got them out of bed before 6:30 a.m. so we could get up and down the mountain before it got too hot outside.
The set-up at the trailhead was quite impressive. They have paved parking lots and a nice bathroom facility for all the hikers. There are twelve switchbacks as the trail winds up the mountain, and each switchback is marked with an informative sign, and many have benches for sitting and resting.
My kids are quicker at climbing than I am, so they would get to the next switchback, read the sign, and wait for me. They now know everything about the elevation, vegetation, animal habitats, and history of the Y trail.
I eventually made it to the top of the trail with my kids. It was amazing! And what did the kids most like about being at the top of the Y? Was it the incredible view? Was it the sense of accomplishment? No. It was the squirrels running around on the white surface of the Y. Because, apparently, squirrels are awesome.
As slow as I was on the trail up, I was even slower on the way down. The kids ran; I plodded. But, finally, I made it back to the minivan where the kids were waiting for me. And we can all say that we’ve hiked to the top of the Y. (And none of them have to wait 40 years to do it.)
