We nearly screwed up, royally. I'll tell you about it.

With the joining of the teams scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, our team is elated that we’ve made it to Mill Hollow Campground in the Wasatch-Cache National Forest entirely on public lands. We’ve done it, or so we thought all the way up to about 4 p.m. when I somehow slipped into my now non-essential routine of planning for tomorrow’s trek. My habit, however unnecessary, saved us from the embarrassment of screwing up the grand public lands’ plan.

Tomorrow, Friday, was to begin two days of hoopla, first with the team-joining event at Pine Valley Campground and then Saturday with the Public Lands celebration in Salt Lake City. All of that planning was out of my hands and in the hands of the event organizers. The way I understood the plan, tomorrow we’d travel to a place to get a much needed shower, have lunch, put up our tents in Pine Valley Campground while the North Team was taking a shower, and then we’d gather at a spot in the forest until it was time for both teams to walk to a stage and finally join. No brainer, right!

But what we had thus far overlooked was the final leg of the public lands journey, the section between Mill Hollow Campground and Pine Valley? According to the plan, tomorrow we’d travel to private lands to shower and then travel back into public lands directly to Pine Valley for the team-joining event – basically making an arc from public lands to private then back to public, circumventing the last leg of the public lands journey! Saying that is an oversight is a monumental understatement. Yikes!

So in a jiffy I gathered up the trekkers and loaded them into the Honda Pilot. Richard was missing because he was with his wife, but we couldn’t wait. We had no choice but to take an alternate in his place. The entire leg on public lands from Mill Hollow Campground to Pine Valley was little more than 20 miles on mostly gravel Forest roads, but it absolutely without hesitation had to be done.

Traveling the leg got us excited because of the potential of seeing the North Team, which was camped at Pine Valley Campground. We didn't want to see anybody from the North Team, not yet. That could be bad juju. Fortunately, the campground is a quarter of a mile or so from the turn-off into the campground from the main road so we were safe unless a team member was taking a walk or driving by when we arrived. The thrill was heightened, however, because we knew nothing of the campground lay out.

We arrived without event and safely turned around, completing the leg. We had really accomplished the public lands mission now, although in something of a Band-aid fashion. We were somewhat downtrodden, however, because Richard, like me, had completed every leg of the journey on public lands. He needed this. Both Cathy and Julie had had alternates step in for them on segments of the journey for very good reasons, like injuries.

But to our delight Richard was going to get something better. He was not only going to complete the leg but he was going to do it this night thanks to the devil in all of us. A devious plan was brewing, and he and his wife Marcia had arrived back in camp in time to be designated accomplices.

Some week prior to today someone had thought it a good idea to sneak into the North Team camp and do something sneaky. What, well, none of us really got that far. I’m into sneaky stuff and, when it comes to creating and employing a tactical maneuver in the field, I consider myself a sneaky little bastard. It's difficult to find somebody who will take exception with that. Because nobody had yet concocted the perfect plan of sneak, I decided to take matters into my own hands and start concocting one. We had run out of time. Because our jovial bunch is not as a package what I’d consider very sneaky, it occurred to me to elect just two sneaky people to the mission rather than one. Somebody would start laughing or some other attention-getting goofy thing had we decided to go together -- that's a given.
Jake and I were elected. Good choices, I thought.

I designed a banner with an American Frontiers bandana and attached it to two sticks. The plan was to sneak into camp and put the banner in the middle of everything, so the team would see it in the morning and be surprised. Oooh-aaaah!

It was decided that we’d sign the bandana with our signatures and on top in large bold letters write, “Glad You Could Make It!” It was supposed to be funny, as in the spirit of "Surprised You Made It".

So after dinner and after dark, we set out. The entire distance to Pine Valley was piqued with excitement for Jake and I. Following our Honda Pilot was Richard and Marcia in a rental car, who were probably equally excited. Here was Richard’s chance to complete the public lands journey “and” drive the rental car through the campground so Jake and I could case the joint.
The North Team was camped on a loop, and Richard slowly, very slowly, drove passed their vehicles and R.V. We saw nothing but the vehicles, which was okay by us (bad juju). Hiked down low in the back seat, we gathered enough information for our mission.

Near the campground entrance where Jake and I had parked our vehicle, Richard and Marcia dropped us off, and drove away into the darkness. It was dark, very dark, and every step Jake and I took back toward the North Team elevated our heart beat. Oooh, the excitement! It had been 60 days from the time we had last seen the North Team. Seeing them felt so taboo, so we hoped beyond hope that we would not see them, at least in a manner in which we could identify who we were seeing. If we saw forms in the dark that somehow qualified as okay, somehow.

Sitting on the pavement a hundred feet or so from the vehicles, Jake and I watched the camp. Then we made a discovery. The reason we had not seen anything but vehicles during the drive-by was because the team was camped east of the vehicles, hundreds of feet away. We heard them laughing. However, there was somebody in the R.V. And we also heard but did not see somebody near the R.V. taping up boxes, probably getting them ready to send home in two days.

Then it happened, like a sweet song from the east where the campers laughed. “Dinner!” Bang, bang! “Dinner!”
Dinner? Jake and I cast each other a quizzical glance. It was after 9 p.m.!

Yes, dinner – our plan began to cook. One by one we watched two(?) human forms materialize near the R.V., and then ghost toward the clanging of the pan. We heard a voice -- it was David Mensing’s voice, saying “Come on, guys, dinner!” Oh my, Dave Mensing, the trek team manager, the man who more than any other brought together this event. We hadn’t heard his voice in 60-some days. We’ve really done it, this thing called American Frontiers, and a journey across America entirely on public lands. Why else would Dave be here if it weren't for that, the success of our two teams? He had been with the North Team for most of the journey, helping out.

When the forms disappeared into the forest, Jake and I quickly surmised the situation. Where to place the banner? How about “inside” the R.V.? Oh, yeah, that’s it!

And that’s just what we did. While Jake stood watch, I was inside the R.V., trying to get the banner to stay stretched and secure in the stovetop burners. It didn’t work, and the clock was ticking. Imagine getting caught! We could imagine that, and were compelled to complete the mission and “Get the hell out of there!”

Rather than beating the dead stove horse, I propped the banner against the R.V. table, in such a manner that whoever entered the R.V. first could not miss seeing it. Done, out the door, and jogging through the night, Jake and I held our giggles until the vehicle. Inside, high fiving and Yessssing, we two sneaky little bastards had their story. We arrived back in our camp where everybody but Lorie McGraw was sleeping. Actually, she was trying to sleep in the cab of the red Honda CRV but awoke when we arrived. She announced us "heroes", and to bed we went in anticipation for the morning when we could tell our story to the team.

We later learned that the North Team missed the comic intention of the banner. They all interpreted it as thoughtful, even sweet. Our raison d' etre had not failed but it also was not a full success. We had hoped for a reaction something along the lines of "Very funny -- Ha Ha! -- You got us!" Oh well, they'll never know.

The next day, when we arrived at Pine Valley Campground to set up our camps while the North Team was taking showers in preparation for the team-joining event, there to greet us was a signed banner -- welcoming us -- and a bottle of champagne. We had been out-classed but the adventure was well worth it.

Cheers!