Fear to Faith

Jhett Schwahn

All my life, my faith has been a cornerstone for me in every situation, good or bad. But I didn’t know just how much my faith would be tested that afternoon. When the trip took a turn for the worse, I found myself leaning on God more than I ever had before. 

July 8th, 2024: the morning started just like any other that summer. As I rolled out of bed, I checked my phone to see if my girlfriend Macey was up. We had tentative plans to hike to the top of Heart Mountain. It was located right between our hometowns, and Macey and I had talked all summer about making the voyage to the top. We would be logging seven miles round trip and gaining 2,500 feet of elevation. 

I brushed my teeth and threw on a cutoff tee shirt and a pair of backcountry pants. I tossed my hiking boots in the back of my Jeep and was off to Cody. In the past ten years, Heart Mountain had gained a reputation for bears being in the area. My brother had taught me everything I knew about the outdoors, so my first stop was his house to pick up a gun. When I got to Cody, I found Macey in the backyard playing with her dog.

“Are you sure you want to do the hike today?” she asked 

“Yes. We keep saying that we want to do it, so let’s do it!” 

“I feel like it’s going to be harder than we think.” 

“My grandma did it in an afternoon. We will be perfectly fine.” 

Macey eventually agreed to make the summit that afternoon. We ate a quick lunch at her house, and we were off to the gas station to pick up some snacks and water. Our first mistake of the trip was thinking we wouldn’t need more water. Between the two of us, we only had three bottles. We also ate too much of our food on our way to the mountain. 

After we made the fifteen-minute drive, we found ourselves looking up at the summit. I followed the winding trail with my eyes until it disappeared into the thick trees. On the way to the peak, I turned and took in the beauty of the landscape. Heart Mountain is unlike any of the other peaks that surround the Big Horn Basin. It quickly rises from the flat planes of sagebrush, and the gray limestone at the top stands solid and proud, like a chief watching over the land below. The top felt daunting, but in a way that added to my ambition. 

I clicked my gun holster around my chest and off we went. “Well, here we go, Macey Irene. Let’s do this.” The first part of the hike was relatively flat. We passed a couple of groups of hikers, and they offered words of encouragement for the trip to come. There was even a lady running who came zooming past us up the trail. Her bright green shoes flashed as she faded into the distance. “See, Macey, we can do this!” The sun was hot that afternoon, and we felt like ants under a magnifying glass. 

The sun was hot that afternoon, and we felt like ants under a magnifying glass.

“Hey, J, we gotta take a couple more breaks, my legs are on fire,” Macey said.

“Of course, we are in no rush!” 

We had made it through the flat part and started our true climb. The next section of the hike was similar to the first, but with much more elevation gain. Our water supply was already low, so we had to be conservative with how much we took in. About two miles into our trip, Macey’s doubts grew. 

“I feel like we aren’t even getting any closer.” 

“We just have to push through this section, then we’ll get into the trees and have some shade.”

“And we are running low on water now, too. I just don’t know, Jhett.”

Looking back, I should have just listened to her at this point. The hike was kicking both our butts, but I was too stuck on getting to the top.

“I mean, we can go back if you want, Mace, but I really feel like we can keep pushing.” 

*

We pushed on and hit the halfway mark, which I thought was closer than it actually was. There was a map on the trail showing that we didn’t have much farther to go. Well, it looked that way because we were about to gain 1,800 feet of elevation from that point. This gave Macey and me a little spark, but in reality, this was the hardest section of the hike. Each step seemed to add ten pounds to our legs. Positive words of encouragement were cut short. My gray cut-off turned dark with sweat. 

Pushing on, we came across a blind corner, when all of a sudden, I heard footsteps quickly approaching. The hairs on my neck stood straight up, as my mind went to my biggest worry about this area: bears. I quickly unholstered my gun, ready to protect Macey and me. I flashed around the corner, prepared to face a bear, but saw those bright green shoes. It was only the runner who passed us at the start. My heart dropped into my stomach, not with disappointment, but relief. 

“Whoa there, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you guys,” the runner said with a nervous laugh.

No, I’m sorry. I was just pointing a gun at you, I thought.

“You’re all good. How was the top?” I asked, holstering my gun.

“Beautiful. It’s worth the work!” 

Reaching the three-mile mark meant we were only a half mile from the summit. However, Macey had reached her limit, and she decided to let me go on to the top alone. The combination of dehydration, hunger, and pure exhaustion had gotten to her. Reluctantly, I continued, knowing that, with where she was waiting, she would remain in my sight for the rest of the hike. I began to jog, using all the strength I could muster to reach the top. 

The warm summer breeze whistled through my ears as I looked over the entire Bighorn Basin. My stomach filled with butterflies as I stood feet from the edge of the mountain top. I made sure to sign both Macey’s and my name in the book. Peering over the left side, I saw Macey right where I parted from her. Looking down at her, I raised my arms out as if to say, “I told you we’d reach the top!” 

I took one last look at the beautiful landscape and headed back down. I reunited with Macey and gave her a big hug, both of us drenched in sweat. 

“I’m sorry I made us do this. I really didn’t think it would be this hard,” I said, laughing.

“It’s okay,” Macey said with a little laugh, wiping sweat off her forehead. “But let’s just get back home.”

Like birds flying south for the winter, Macey and I were making great time down the mountain. 

4:45 p.m.

“Could you lead the way on this part? It looks kinda steep,” Macey asked.

“Yeah, of course.” 

With a little trot, I began down the trail. Then, in a split second, I saw something shoot out of the brush. My reflexes shot my leg back and around as I tried to avoid whatever it was. Stumbling down the rest of the way and again unholstering my gun, I realized it was a snake. 

“Did it get you!?” Macey shouted from the top

“No, I think I got out of the way, I’ll find it so you can come down.” 

4:50 p.m.

My lips and tongue started to tingle; the same numbness you get when your arm falls asleep. Something dripped down my leg. I pulled up my pant leg, and in that instant, everything changed. I’d been bitten by a rattlesnake. Two pricks, with a mix of blood and venom. We were 2,000 feet up and three miles into the backcountry on Heart Mountain. This wasn’t good.

“Hey, Macey, it got me.” My voice shook.

“What should we do?”

“I’m going to call my dad, you call your papa.” 

Luckily, we had cell service. Had we been any higher on the trail, we would have been stranded. I truly didn’t know what to do, but I thought either of our parents would be able to give us some sort of direction. Before calling my dad, like any teenager, I went on the internet and looked up “what to do if bitten by a rattlesnake?” My fingers shook uncontrollably as I tried to type out the words that described my situation. It said that you should sit down right away and try to keep your breathing controlled. Then I read the line that put my stomach in my throat: “Symptoms can be deadly within 3–5 hours if not treated.” Looking out at the miles of trail ahead, I thought about how long it would take for anyone to get here. My head was spinning, and I was in a full-on panic. I had no plan, no one to help me, and time was running out.

I called my dad right after and told him what happened. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it out of here, Dad,” I said as the numbness started to spread around my lower leg. My eyes welled with tears, and fear continued to fill my body and mind. 

“Have you called 911? Where is Macey? How far up are you guys?” The questions continued pouring in.

Then a pause, and like a warm blanket, my dad and I both felt a calming presence in the midst of the chaos. 

“Dad, can you pray for me?” I wasn’t sure how or why this was happening, but I knew that with either outcome, God was going to take care of me. 

We thanked God for everything in my life, and surrendered the situation to Him. The whole conversation lasted about five minutes, but it turned my mind from fear to faith. I sat down just off the trail. The tall grass brushed against my back, and I knew I wouldn’t be moving from that spot for a long time. I took a few moments to breathe and try to focus on things I could control. I truly believed that God was with me on that mountain. Obviously, I didn’t want to die, but I was secure in my faith and savior. 

5:10 p.m.

Macey was talking to the 911 operator, but was still at the top of the steep section. She had to get down to me so she could monitor how I was doing. Macey looked for a stick she could wave out in front of her so that if the snake was still there, it would rattle. She got halfway down the slope and made a break for it. 

Squeezing me tightly, she sat behind me and let me lean back on her. “You’re gonna be okay. We are gonna get you out of here.” 

At this point, my tongue started to swell up, and it was hard for me to talk. The operator’s main concern was the venom shutting down my airway. We came up with a system where a thumbs-up signaled how easy or difficult it was for me to breathe.

6:00 p.m.

My dad now talked with Macey, trying to keep her calm. Nine-one-one was still talking her through everything on her phone. They made the call to send a helicopter, which would get as close to us as the mountain allowed. We asked the operator if we had to do anything for them to find us, and she said that our phones were pinged to our location.

Breathing became increasingly difficult. I felt like someone had a rope around my chest, and with every passing minute, it was getting tighter. 

I felt like someone had a rope around my chest, and with every passing minute, it was getting tighter.

Time after time, the helicopter would pass right over us and seemingly not even stop to look. Macey took off her shirt and mine as well and started swinging them over her head frantically to catch the attention of the pilots. 

“We are right here! How can they not see us!” she wailed at the top of her lungs.

They’ve got to see us eventually. I just needed to focus on staying here, one breath at a time.

My mom and dad had driven to the base of the mountain to try to help in any way they could. This was a turning point in our luck that afternoon. My dad listened to Macey on the phone and was able to figure out where we were from watching the helicopter. We realized that our phones sent a signal from the opposite side of the mountain, which explained why they were flying right over us every time. Then we finally heard the first good news. 

6:30 p.m.

“We have eyes on them,” the pilot said through the 911 operator’s call. The helicopter made its descent. 

Thank you, Jesus!

This couldn’t have come at a better time, as my thumbs-up had slowly fallen sideways. My whole mouth felt swollen to the point that I was unable to talk. The numbness had crept up all the way to my stomach. The medevac crew called out for us, and Macey screamed back, starting to cry from relief. 

“They’re here, J. You’re going to be okay.”

7:00 p.m.

The rest of that day felt like a blur, from being strapped to a body board to squeezing into the helicopter. I was just glad to be heading toward help. As we took off, I looked out the window, and tears rolled down my face. The loud chopping of the blades drowned out the emotions that I had experienced. After landing, they quickly rolled me into the emergency room and started me on a full bag of antivenom. The strangest part was feeling the numbness recede just the way it had crept up my body. With every minute, I began to feel more and more of my lower body, starting from my waist and finishing with my toes. However, with the feeling returned, the rush of pain was not far behind. My adrenaline was wearing off, and my leg felt like it was in a vice, tightening with every movement. Weirdly, I was grateful to be in pain because I now knew that I was going to be okay. 

*

The feeling that I was going to die was very strange, but through all the chaos, I found peace in my faith. My trust in my salvation and savior carried me through that afternoon. I knew that I had a purpose on this earth, and it wasn’t my time to go. I was thankful that God put Macey on that mountain with me; without her, I wouldn’t have made it. My dad kept me calm and fixed my eyes on Jesus, which was exactly what I needed. I was also grateful for the first responders who got me off the mountain. In that split second, my life was almost taken away. Now, every time I see Heart Mountain, I no longer see just a peak to climb, but a strong reminder of just how great my God is.

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