The Summer We’ll Never Forget
This summer has been one for the books—one adventure after another. And to close it out, Reece and his buddy Josh decided to take on Hawley Mountain.
Now, this isn’t your average weekend hike. Hawley is remote, difficult, and beautifully rugged. There’s no cell service, no clear path, and no easy way up or down. You have to pack in all your supplies and be ready to stay overnight. This was no spontaneous trip—it required planning. The boys had a solid plan, reviewed by the adults in their lives. We didn’t stop them—we just set the boundary:
“We need to see or hear from you by Sunday before dark.”
That in fact did happen, but it was only one of them.
The Climb
They began the 12-hour trek Saturday early morning, before the sun was up, and made it 800 feet below the summit, where they set up camp. They named it God’s Camp—a place they described as perfect and beautiful.
But Josh was already struggling. The elevation wasn’t agreeing with him. While Josh tried to recover, Reece pushed on to the summit alone. He took some breathtaking photos—images that looked like the top of the world—and then returned to camp to stay the night with his friend.
They slept, hoping rest would help. Reece, believed sleep would solve the issue with Josh. (I’m fairly certain I taught him that survival skill.)
The Turning Point
The next morning, Reece was eager to show Josh the sunrise from the summit—but Josh was still not well. Reece went up to the summit one more time to take some sunrise photos and give Josh some more time to rest. They packed up to head down, but didn’t get far. Josh was blacking out, weak, and disoriented. Reece stopped, looked him in the eye, and said:
“If you need met to go get help so you can get off this mountain, I need to know now.”
Time was ticking. Resources were running low. Josh made the hard but wise decision: he needed help. Reece set camp back up, looked at Josh, and said:
“Don’t move. I’m coming back, and I will find you right here.”
Reece left Josh with what was left of their water, food, and shelter, took a filtered straw—and ran. Fueled by adrenaline, he booked it down the mountain that had taken them 12 hours to climb. He made it in a fraction of the time.
He came out at the base—in a different spot from where they had parked. A field of horses watched, wide-eyed, as the woods spit out a lone, sweaty hiker. Reece flagged down a group of guys at a near by campsite and they gave him a ride back to Camp on the Boulder, where they had been working for the Summer and where Jon and Ashley and their family live.
Rallying the Team
Back at camp, Reece was focused on one thing: getting back to Josh.
Jon and Ashley, the camp caretakers—and truly remarkable human beings—had done everything they could to prepare the boys before the trip. Jon had lent them a satellite phone. Reece had managed to get out a short, vague, but urgent text before the battery died. Jon knew what that meant. He knew it was time to pack for a long night and a long hike.
Jon is more than just their boss. He’s their mentor, friend, advisor—he loves like a brother and teaches like a father. Ashley (or “Mama Ashley,” as Reece calls her) went into mama mode, restocking Reece with food, water, and encouragement. A group gathered to pray over the guys and the entire situation.
Then Jon and Reece headed back up the mountain.
Ashley was left with the tough task of informing the parents—Josh and Reece’s families—and keep us informed. And waiting.
Waiting, Praying, Hoping
Search and rescue was alerted but not deployed. It has to be a confirmed medical emergency. To those of us waiting, it felt like an emergency—but Jon had experience, and Reece had the determination.
“I’m not in a rush but I am in a hurry,” Reece kept saying to himself.
Communication was minimal. A dying satellite phone and 140 characters or less is a brutal way to navigate a tense situation. The phone had to be turned off between vague texts to save battery. There was no dialogue. Just a text and gone again.
Jon and Reece made it to a spot 1,000 feet below Josh. It was around 9:30 PM when they found a spot to set up. The plan was for Reece to hike up to Josh, take him some food and water, and bring him down to Jon’s camp, and stay the night before hiking the rest of the way out the next day. If Josh wasn’t strong enough to descend, Reece would stay with him overnight and they’d try again in the morning.
Jon had to make the hardest call of all—letting Reece hike into the darkness, unsure of when he’d return or what condition he would find Josh when he got to him. They agreed: if Josh was in bad shape, Reece would fire three shots into the air. Otherwise, Jon would just… wait and pray.
And wait and pray he did.
Rescue and Return
Morning came. And Reece showed up to Jon’s camp spot alone.
He made it back to Jon and reported: Josh needed help. Reece dropped his pack, and the two of them hiked back up to God’s Camp where Josh had waited—for thirteen hours—before Reece had returned to spend the night, and now he was left waiting again.
They packed up, gave Josh water and food, and headed back down. By the time they reached Jon’s camp and picked up the rest of the gear, Josh was beginning to recover. The altitude sickness was easing, and strength was returning. The food and hydration were finally kicking in.
Those boys who had climbed that mountain were not the same ones who came down.
The Lessons
Maybe Reece became a man, with more endurance than we even realized. He thought through some hard decisions. All the questions he was asked on return were answered with clarity and good reasoning. He knew where he was and he knew what needed to be done. He knew exactly where he left his friend and he was going back for him.
Jon became an older man with sons he didn’t know he had and more wisdom and probably some grey hairs. Jon was kind and calm and clearly in shape enough to climb a mountain without much notice.
And maybe Josh learned a kind of patience and trust most of us never will.
Thirteen hours. Alone. Sick. Unmoving. Trusting your friend to come back. And trusting the Lord in all of it.
Meanwhile, at Base Camp…
While they were climbing mountains, we—parents, siblings, friends—were navigating a mountain of our own. The waiting. The praying. Every text update (all 140 characters or less) felt like a lifeline. My other kids were ready to storm the mountain if need be, but we had to know more to take action and all we knew at the moment was to wait for the next 140 characters.
Finally, at 3:45 PM, we got the message: They’re close. (The text said where they were).
Jessi (Jon and Ashley’s oldest daughter) led us out to meet the hikers. She knew exactly what that text said, and where that spot was. I can’t explain the joy of seeing their sweaty, tired faces. Jon looked like a proud dad delivering his sons home. Josh hugged his mom like someone who was grateful for life itself. Reece gave me a quick hug, shook Charlie’s hand, and gave us the highlight reel—complete with a Ugandan accent and lots of hand gestures showing us how he went up and down and up and down the mountain. It was a sweet moment of relief.
We made our way back to camp, where Bruce and Vicky (the beloved camp cooks and hospitality legends) had a meal waiting. We swapped stories, hugged, laughed, and thanked God.
The verse that has been on repeat in my brain for the last few months (IYKYK) is:
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the whole earth.
He never becomes faint or weary;
there is no limit to his understanding.
He gives strength to the faint
and strengthens the powerless.
Youths may become faint and weary,
and young men stumble and fall,
but those who trust in the Lord
will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not become weary,
they will walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)
I believe we have all walked away from this experience with more trust in the Lord, and belief in His faithfulness to us and our children. We didn’t have a choice, but to wait and to trust, to be honest and He was faithful to do just what Isaiah said in this passage.
The Word of the Year: Endurance
Endurance has been the word of the year for our family.
We’ve had a family text thread that’s been lit up all year with prayer requests—truck rollovers, runner’s accidents, preterm babies, mountain rescues. I finally told my kids:
“Y’all need to give me a break from adrenaline. My body is not built for constant cortisol dumps. Maybe it’s time to take up watching TV—like Netflix. Sit your butts down for five minutes!”
They didn’t respond.
Probably out running around again.
