Journey to South Monroe (or Grandpa's Mountain): Part ONE of our Summer Trip

Okay fellow readers, because we packed SO much into our trip, I have decided to divide my blog posts into phases.  I have too many pictures and too many stories to pack in to one, long post, so I hope you're forgive me and be patient as I try to work through everything and keep it organize. 

The first phase of our trip was our journey to South Monroe, or Grandpa's Nick's mountain, to finally take him to rest in peace on his favorite mountain.  Grandpa passed away last November as many of you know, and we were waiting until summer break and warm weather to finally take him home. 

After much packing and prepping, we took off early on a Saturday morning.  South Monroe is toward Southern Utah, so we wanted to leave early to get there by early evening.  We have many, many trips to the Salt Lake area before, and we couldn't pass through without visiting a few friends - the Druces.  Druce (though not his first name, it's how I came to know him) was one of Matt's dearest mission companions in Argentina, and we try to catch up with him and his beautiful family whenever we go through the Salt Lake area.  His wife decided to try to surprise him for Father's Day with our visit, so we secretly planned to meet them at a restaurant.  We arrived first and made our way to a booth in the back to wait for them to walk in.

The Druce family walked in a few minutes later, ordered their food, and went to fill their drinks.  I saw Kenny glance my way a couple of times (he hadn't yet seen Matt), and  I could tell he recognized me, but maybe couldn't quite place me.  When they all started to walk our way Matt stood up and there was a sweet reunion of friends.  Turns out Kenny had figured out that they were meeting someone, he just hadn't figured out who it was yet.  It was so fun! 

After lunch we headed over to a disk-golf park that also had some play equipment for the kiddos to play on.  The guys spent a couple of hours playing disk-golf, while Erin and I lounged in the shade and watched our kids play.  It was a lovely afternoon of visiting and catching up. 

After saying good-bye to the Druce family, we continued on our way to South Monroe.  All throughout my childhood, I remember Grandpa saying that when he died, he wanted to be cremated and his ashes spread at South Monroe.  As a child, you never really think about that day becoming a reality.  No one likes death.  No one likes to think about death, but death inevitably comes to us all, and the wishes of the deceased must be upheld in the most respectful and fulfilling way possible.  

When Grandpa passed, we debated making the trip within a few weeks, but the snow had already begun to fall in the mountains and we knew not everyone would get to make the journey.  So, we decided to wait until June.  June is a beautiful time of year at South Monroe, and I'm glad we waited until then (although I never really felt like Grandpa's passing was final until we took him to his mountain). 

Those of us who made the trip booked hotel rooms in Salina, UT, not far from the mountain, and planned to meet the following morning, which also happened to be Father's Day.  Fitting for the occasion.   We packed up our cars and cleared our motel rooms, and as soon as cousins Kenny and Carol arrived, we headed out to the mountain. It took about an hour to reach the mountain, and those of us in low-sitting cars had to climb into bigger, higher rigs in order to make the last stretch of the bumpy journey up the mountain. 

A view of the peak, Molly's Nipple.  Just behind that peak is Grandpa's favorite hunting ground: our destination.

After getting lost a couple times, we finally found our way.  The mountain is beautiful.  The first stop we made was at the base of the mountain, the trail head that leads up to the flat iron where Grandpa and many other Nichols men loved to hunt.   It was here that we said our prayers, spoke a few words, and spread the first of Grandpa's ashes on his mountain. 

A humorous word here: at the trail head it was extremely windy.  We were all a little worried about getting covered in Grandpa's ashes as the wind was sailing up and over the ridge right over our heads.  Karlin grabbed a handful of dirt to figure out exactly where the ashes would fall.  While we took every precaution to make sure we didn't get covered in the ashes, many of us laughed that it would actually be hilarious to get covered in them - Grandpa's joke on us.  :)  We were well out of the way. 

Kenny, Bob, Karlin

Mom, Carol, Darryl

Mom walking carefully.

Karlin, Bob, Grandma, Kenny.

Angie carrying Lundynn.

Grandma.

Karlin, Kenny, Mom watching Bob begin the spreading of the ashes.

Lundynn, Angie.

Finally. 

Sharing some feelings and memories.

Behind Karlin is Molly's Nipple.  At the base of that is our destination: the flat iron.

After spreading the ashes at the trail head, we made our way up to the campsite where the Nichols family spent many a night under the trees, hunting, laughing, cooking over a fire.  The campsite is just within the trees you can see behind Karlin in the picture above. 

Audrey and Karlin headed to the campsite.

The campsite.

Karlin adding his initials to the many initials left before us.

Audrey (and Kellen) were tired, hungry and filthy. :)

Standing in one of Grandpa's favorite places was an amazing feeling.  I could feel him walking around with us.  As Kenny, Bob, Carol, Mom, and Grandma shared stories of the many camping trips to this mountain, it made me so happy to be able to be a small part of something that was loved so much.  While I never got to spend those fun-filled evenings here because I did not yet exist, I am grateful for the stories and memories that were shared by those who had those experiences.  It made me feel like I had been a part of it all along.  I am incredibly grateful to have stood there, stood where Grandpa once stood, laugh where Grandpa had once laughed, and watch my children run and play where so many of there ancestors had done the same.

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After walking through the camp site, those of use who were physically able began our hike up the mountain to an area called the flat iron where the men hunted.  I didn't want to miss this part, and I didn't want my children to miss this part, so Matt and I each took a kid, put them on our backs, and up the mountain we went.  It was a pretty tedious hike, but we made it, and I am so glad that we decided to go.

Audrey walking didn't last long. :)

Karlin getting some ashes to take up to the very top.

Headed up to the peak.

My arms were literally shaking from carrying Kellen up the mountain.

Little trooper.

Finally, the flat iron. The trees you see in back are where Grandpa hunted from.

The flat iron is a beautiful place. Bob and Kenny shared many stories of hunting trips that took place here.  It was here where we spread what was left of Grandpa's ashes...his favorite hunting spot.  Once his ashes were spread, Bob pulled out his Elk Call and made the mournful, aching cry of an Elk that I have heard so many times.  I could feel Grandpa standing there with us, looking over his favorite spot, wanting us to not cry for him, but most of us not able to stop our tears from flowing.  It was a beautiful, bittersweet moment that I wish everyone who loved Grandpa could have shared.

Karlin, meanwhile had made his way up to the peak at Molly's Nipple, and released Grandpa's ashes into the wind. 
In addition, Shaydynn had created a small memorial for Grandpa out of clay and a collection of prayers written down on paper that she hauled up the mountain side to leave forever at the flat iron. 

You can see Karlin up at the top.

Shaydynn and Bob setting up her memorial.

Elk Call.

Bob leaving some hunting items at the memorial.

Once the ashes were spread, the memorial was set up, memories were shared, and tears were shed, we solemnly made our way back down the mountain.  It was an emotional day filled with love and memories and sorrow.   I shed many tears that day on Grandpa's mountain, tears that, hopefully, mixed with Grandpa's ashes, will help grow some beautiful flower or shady tree for another hunter to sit under and enjoy.  I cried for wanting to hug Grandpa Nick just one more time.  I cried for the thousands of miles I traveled with him. I cried for the many camping trips he took before me that I didn't get to be a part of. I cried for countless camping trips that I did get to be part of, and would never again get to experience.  I cried for memories.  I cried for good-byes.  I cried for sorrow.  I cried for the emptiness that death leaves behind that is too slowly filled.  I cried for all the many things Grandpa won't be there for (at least physically) in my children's lives.  I cried because I missed my Grandpa so desperately I could hardly breath.  I cried because the final part of his journey on Earth was over.  

Before I finish this blog, I wanted to share with you something unusual we found on the mountain that day.  In the pictures below, you will see a natural cross overlooking the valley where the campsite is.  We are stood around and marveled that such a cross would be found on such a day as this.  It was the perfect ending to bitter-sweet day, as it reminded us that there is indeed still life in death.  Death is not the end.  We will see Grandpa again, just as sure as this tiny cross grew out of the mountain.  We will see Grandpa again. Until then, Grandpa, enjoy your mountain. You have one hell of a view.

On a side note, this is simply my version of the events of that day on South Monroe.  The experience was deeply personal to each person who found themselves at the mountain that day.  I tried to make it as true to the feelings and emotions and events that occurred  as possible.  I apologize if I left something important out.


Please look for Part Two, coming soon.....