707 Day 7 - Lost Cabin Camp
John and Steve fold up camp at Beaubien |
Leaving Beubien, we returned to Phillips Junction to pick up another
day's supply of food. We then went on and got to about Buck Creek Camp.
I believe that we did our second 1.5 hours of conservation work here.
Until I get further confirmation, I ought to state that it may
have been here, instead of Sawmill, where I discovered that I had
left the itinerary sheet at the last commissary. We only had two
different commissaries -- Ute Gulch and Phillips Junction. So,
it had to have been one of them.
On the trail, Karl had developed a blister on his heel, and this
demanded attention. If you do not take care of them, they get
worse. We paused while Mr Max applied
the bandage, but more importantly tied Karl's boots so tight that
they could not possibly slip on his feet -- not that that made
Karl the happier. Still, this episode highlights the importance
of good boots and socks. If a pair is good, and assuming your feet
do not grow too much, they will make for comfortable hiking for
years to come. John notes,
"Believe it or not, I still have, and wear, my boots that I wore at
Philmont."
Along the route to Lost Cabin Camp, there were
several cattle fields with even more cow "mines".
It was a bit smelly, but at least we did not have cows coming into the
campsite. Lost Cabin is a trail camp with no activities of its own.
I am not sure if there is a cabin around there somewhere. We never found it,
at any rate. I suspect that's why it's called Lost Cabin. There were
at least some nice rock formations
to view in the distance, and a the waters of
Turkey Creek nearby.
In the picture to the right, we gather around the camp site before heading
off to do the activities at Apache Springs. Those awful blue short-shorts
I am wearing were actually considered "in" during the 80s. But,
given my modesty as described in the sweat lodge account above,
I really am amazed that I nevertheless chose to hike around Philmont
in what amounted to scarcely more than a pair of underwear.
Apache Springs Tipi Village: I don't recall if these
were built by real Apaches. The Jicarilla Apaches and the Ute used to occupy
50-million acres, including Philmont. |
|
Our route took us through Apache Springs where we learned a little
bit about Native American culture. Apache Springs is located in the
south-western corner of Philmont, and in those days was one of the
most remote camps. Apache Springs featured what was
called a "Tipi Village", a reconstruction of three Apache-style
tipis enclosed in a compound. The tipis were made of canvas
draped around a cone of tree trunks.
The program there was run by staff member Mark Dierker and his associates.
They explained to us how animal furs were placed inside the tipis, around the
outer perimeter, to help block out the wind. I suppose animal skins
would have made up the outer shell as well, had these been authentic tipis.
I was recently contacted by Mark himself, who noted that in the years
that followed, he discovered several inconsistencies in what they had
been teaching campers in the program. For instance, the primary Native American tribe
in the area was actually the Ute tribe, not the Apache. I should note, though, that
the Jicarilla Apache had at migrated into the area in later
years because the Europeans had invaded their original homelands.
After our tour of the tipis,
we learned how to endure the frustration of trying to make flint
arrowheads and grind corn with round stones. Staff member
Matt Gibson (shown in the picture) suggested that we might find a few
arrowheads amidst the gravel which lay all over the floor of the compound.
I guess he was trying to be charitable. Grinding the corn was more successful,
but I am told that the introduction of stone fragments into the meal
is what caused many ancient natives to suffer tooth abrasions.
It was, perhaps, a good source of minerals.
After we had had our fun in the village, we made arrangements
to participate in the sweat lodge ritual.
Philmont's American Indian sweat lodge is a 4-foot dome-shaped
hut made of canvas panels (originally these would have been animal skins)
draped over a frame of small, limber tree trunks bent together in a mesh.
The whole structure is built over a pit in the ground.
Outside is a campfire, around which are several medium-sized rocks. Once the rocks are hot
from the fire, they are placed into large aluminum buckets and carried
to the sweat lodge structure, where they are quickly placed into the
pit. As soon the rocks are in place, you strip naked and all enter the
hut, squatting in a circle around the rock pit. Then, a bucket of water
is poured onto the rocks. Water flashes into vapour, and the steam
hits your sinuses without warning. More hot rocks and water are brought
in by the camp staff if desired.
Yes, this sounds like a fraterity hazing ordeal, but it's really an
ancient Native American ritual of cleansing. It's like a sauna, but
with soot. At the time, I was a bit uncomfortable with the nudity aspect.
Some people I've talked to recently say that the sweat lodge activity is
no longer done naked. At least I experienced it as it was meant to be.
Unfortunately, we didn't get any pictures.
The staff explained that the heat and
humidity would open your pores and that various "impurities" would be
flushed out with sweat. After letting the steam and soot saturate your
pores for several minutes, you all run outside and dump cold water on
each other. Originally, the Apaches would run outside and into a lake or
stream to acheive this "quench". In either case, the idea is that the
cold water shocks your pores closed before the impurities can settle back in.
And, according to the Apache, unwelcome spirits may have been
expelled at the same time. That's always good to know.
John and Steve fold up camp at Beaubien
In the picture to the right, we gather around the camp site before heading
off to do the activities at Apache Springs. Those awful blue short-shorts
I am wearing were actually considered "in" during the 80s. But,
given my modesty as described in the sweat lodge account above,
I really am amazed that I nevertheless chose to hike around Philmont
in what amounted to scarcely more than a pair of underwear.
Apache Springs Tipi Village: I don't recall if these
were built by real Apaches. The Jicarilla Apaches and the Ute used to occupy
50-million acres, including Philmont.
After our tour of the tipis,
we learned how to endure the frustration of trying to make flint
arrowheads and grind corn with round stones. Staff member
Matt Gibson (shown in the picture) suggested that we might find a few
arrowheads amidst the gravel which lay all over the floor of the compound.
I guess he was trying to be charitable. Grinding the corn was more successful,
but I am told that the introduction of stone fragments into the meal
is what caused many ancient natives to suffer tooth abrasions.
It was, perhaps, a good source of minerals.
