Anthony and I moved to Utah in the middle of winter.  We decided to buy a four-wheeled drive vehicle because we didn’t want to get stuck in the snow and we wanted to enjoy off-roading trails when the snow finally melted. Anthony researched trails and we loved our Saturday adventures up the canyons with our dog.


We got antsy our second winter (that was also our last winter. And we fully realized that we’re not ‘snow’ people and relocated to a place that better suited us). Craving adventure, we kept eying a particular trail Anthony heard about during the winter–Ward Canyon Road by the gigantic “B” on Bountiful’s mountain.




When the snow melted off the road, we took the FJ for a spin on Ward Canyon Road.  We drove until we hit snow on the road. It was a blast exploring new territory.  We drove for hours and hours through canyons and mountainous trails.  Then we got out to breathe in spectacular scenery and fresh air untainted by Salt Lake City’s inversion.  It was glorious.


On the way back, we spun around the mud trails several times at the top of the “B” with other four-wheel drivers. Then, instead of hitting the hard left to spin back around, we’d picked up too much speed and went over a slight ridge leading to a track across the face of the mountain.


We quickly realized our peril.  Winter snow melt compromised the steep slope’s foundation.  The rear tires slid out of control on the mountain terrain knocked loose by the front tires.


Anthony considered reversing, but that option was totally shot. We slid down the mountain stopping in some little rain gullies.  We tilted so precariously that when I looked out my window, I looked at the ground.




Unflappable Anthony was terrified, yet calm. Certain death inevitable, I imagined rolling over and over and over and over and over down the mountain. Surprisingly, I remained calm, too.


Anthony kept the steering wheel turned towards to top of the mountain to prevent the truck from rolling as he slowly proceeded across the mountain face. He constantly checked course options to avoid pitfalls, steep drop-offs, and deep ravines.  We talked about scary spots on my side that he couldn’t see, but I could because I was staring directly at them.


Slowly, but surely, we made our way across the face of the mountain. As we reached the stable trail and righted the truck, we shouted for joy!  We paused for several moments relishing our success and saying prayers of thanks.


Others witnessed our adventure.  A guy quickly drove over to us and asked how the experience was. Anthony said he wouldn’t recommend it.


Lessons from the Slippery Slope


We learned several things from that experience. We always joke about slippery slopes and we found ourselves on a literal one! I learned that a 45-degree angle doesn’t presuppose rollovers. We also learned that just because a trail looks doable in a four-wheel drive doesn’t mean that it should be done. Anthony said he learned not to just jump into a situation without adequately assessing it.


To read more of Delisa’s articles, click here.


We both learned a lesson about deep, concerted focus.  Anthony focused entirely on the mountain–with an eye single. He knew if he kept the steering wheel turned to the mountain, he could drive us out of that scary situation.


The experience brought new meaning to “doing all things with an eye single to the glory of God.”


As I keep my eyes fixed on the Mountain, I can traverse the slip-sliding life.

About Delisa Hargrove
I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have moved 64 times and have not tired of experiencing this beautiful earth! I love the people, languages, histories/anthropologies, & especially religious cultures of the world. My life long passion is the study & searching out of religious symbolism, specifically related to ancient & modern temples. My husband Anthony and I love our bulldog Stig, adventures, traveling, movies, motorcycling, and time with friends and family.

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