Three Nights on a Mountaintop

By Thomas Moore

Two scathing bolts of lightning tore through the air above the trail to Bonneville Peak. The rain transformed itself into a blistering hail. Spheres of ice as large as ping pong balls came ricocheting down from the skies. I darted to locate a reprieve and at last found haven under the branches of a mighty pine tree. Over the next three hours, I felt powerless before the torrents of the storm raging above me. I tried to stay away from the tree trunk. I prayed that the hairs of my arms wouldn’t stand on end as a signal of the lightning strike that could be the end of me.

This was May 2024 and I was attempting to achieve a goal: to live for two days and three nights on the summit of 9,271-foot Bonneville Peak, the high point in the Portneuf Range. I had never spent more than a day in the wilderness, and this was the first time I went alone. Early that morning, I had stood at the end of my driveway in Chubbuck, excitement buzzing within me as I packed my gear into the trunk of my old SUV. The orange light of dawn shone brilliantly upon the mountaintops of the range. The late spring air warmed the chill. Grey light transformed into vibrant golden hues. The mist burned away as the world awakened to the chirping of birds and the scent of fresh green pine.

I put on a pair of sunglasses and drove toward a favorite hiking spot called Pebble Creek. My anticipation heightened even further as the highway curved towards the Inkom exit. Beneath the rising sun, dark storm clouds gathered on the edge of the horizon and my thoughts raced through different scenarios: bad weather, ambushes by animals, treacherous footing, and the myriad other ways a man might be undone by Nature. As I drove uphill into the mountains, civilization began to give way. Mud covered sections of the road and my path was briefly impeded by a flock of wild turkeys. I waited patiently, amused that my first obstacle was turkeys. The creatures paid me little heed as they gobbled to each other and strutted across the road.

My engine roared as I followed the winding road to the head of the trail. The day was still young, yet my thoughts turned to the night to come. If I was going to accomplish my goal, I had to reach the summit before dusk. In the dirt parking lot I triple-checked that my car wouldn’t budge and then slung on my backpack.

The steep trail up to Bonneville Peak was made more troublesome by the damp ground of springtime. Also my pack was unusually heavy because it would be a long stay. Pebble Creek is not an easy hike and the early part is the hardest.  I considered turning back but steeled my resolve and kept my attention ahead. Past an empty ski lodge, the trail curved steeply upwards. Like a fool, I had forgotten to stretch. A charley horse began to creep into my right calf and I made a mindful effort to keep my muscles loose. As I continued the climb, the burning in my legs faded, but heat that came with the ascending sun sapped my stamina.