When I left Philmont in 1984, I had no real idea that I might ever need to write about it. When people are young, they don't tend to think about these things. After returning home, school and other social demands mounted. I went off to college, people and places changed, and I lost contact with many of them. And even as they did, I still never thought about the importance of recording things, confident that I would always clearly remember anything important.

But, the years which have now passed have made it difficult to recall the details. So, when I finally realised this, I began to make a concerted effort to do so. The result is this journal.

On a mid-summer visit to New Mexico recently, I passed through Philmont once again and wondered if the place had changed. So, I stopped in. I asked the sales clerk in the Trading Post about the Philmont belt buckles -- like the one I got so many years ago. There were none on the shelves. She replied, "We'll have more in in a few days. Are you just about to go on your trek, or are you just returning? If you are just beginning, I can place one on order, and it should be here by the time you are done."

I explained that my trek was long done. But, digging through memories is like a trek in itself. And, the strange thing is that, despite all the events and changes which stand in between then and now, and despite the things which I cannot remember, it still all seems like it happened just yesterday.

Postscript

I mentioned in the account for my last visit to the Tooth of Time that I had left a small stone there as a personal memorial to John, the one who convinced me to go to Philmont. The stone came from Leonard Scout Reservation (LSR), in Granbury, Texas, from the point near where John's ashes had been scattered. At LSR, we had built a memorial to him -- the rock climbing and rapelling training Tower. By the end of 1999, the Tower had stood and served well for a little over 15 years. It was the first of its kind at the Lonhorn Council's camps, and in the years since its dedication, its design and concept had been immitated at several other locations.

But, in November, we got some terrible news. The local papers leaked the story that the Longhorn Council had made the decision to sell the Reservation for profit to a real estate developer, and the deal was about to close. This was the first that anyone we knew had heard of the news. After the sale was made final, the Council's web site said that the buyer was F.F.F.C Corporation, of Dallas (though, no one in the Dallas Chamber of Commerce recognises that name).

Leonard Scout Reservation: feeling the onslaught of housing developments. Photo: USGS, 1996

LSR had been the most accessible, large scout camp in the Longhorn Council. Its value was unquestionable. But, lake-front property in Granbury, where LSR sits, had become quite valuable, and track housing developments had encroached on the property as rich retirees moved in from the big city. The Council decided to take the profit and close the camp. This implied the terrible consequence that they would demolish the Tower. What everyone had assumed would remain for a long time would be no longer in the time it would take to bull-doze it. And, I cringed to think of what this meant for the Point as well.

The decision had been made many months before we were told about it. No number of letters we could write could stop the sale. We accepted that. But, we could not even arrange some kind of respectful decommissioning for the Tower. We requested that, at the very least, the Tower's dedication plaque, cemented in a nearby obelisk, be removed respectfully and returned to John's family. But, even as I write this, more than six months after the sale has been finalized, this has not been done.

The Tower was a device of healing as well as learning. The consequences of the actions of the Council have hurt many of us deeply. We will heal again, though it may take quite some time.

So, now, I am left with the fact that the simple stone I brought to Philmont in 1984 may be the only remaining memorial to John. I believe it is safe to assume it is still there (if not where I placed it, then somewhere). For years, I had not told anyone about this stone. Placing it on the Tooth of Time was an act of a personal nature. I didn't know whether anyone would appreciate it. But, now, in light of the events which have unfolded upon us, I am mentioning it as a part of this journal.

Somewhere there is a lesson in all of this. I have not found it yet. But, I keep looking.