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Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 | |
 The Gate Then -- photo: R. Pettys |
 The Gate Today |
Day 1 (or "728") was really a partial day, beginning after we arrived in the bus at Philmont's Base Camp (also called Camping Headquarters). We pulled into Philmont's parking lot and unloading site guarded by a bulky, wooden, T-shaped archway. Hanging from each side of its crossbeam were two placards bearing the words:
| PHILMONT SCOUT RANCH |
| BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA |
As the bus pulled in through the gate, I was eager to get out. The Longhorn Council had insisted that we travel in full dress uniform. "Look sharp. You're representing Scouting as you go," read their advisement memo. My stomach was still queasy. Thirteen sleepless hours on the bus in cramped seats and official Scout shorts did nothing in the service of comfort. The rest was the nervousness that comes with anticipation.
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The Welcome Office was simply a large concrete slab with a roof help up by beams at its perimeter. At its centre was a small wooden booth/enclosure -- probably large enough to hold no more than two or three people. At the entrance to the booth was a hanging spring scale which we would use later to weigh our packs before hitting the trail. I should note that, in years since, the Welcome Office has been torn down and a new building, called the Welcome Center, with an entire office complex attached, has been built very near its original location.
| BASE CAMP |
 click for map |
We had met our Ranger, Dennis Depenbusch, a Business major (if I recall) from Kansas, before lunch, and had our crew photo taken. This was the last time we actually wore our scout uniforms during this trek (as they would be stored in orange lockers in the quartermaster's complex). Philmont policy does not require the wearing of uniforms, except at dinner, and this sat well with me as I had never really liked the paramilitary feel. Instead, we wore T-shirts -- sometimes with a BSA logo on them, and sometimes not.
 Group Logistics Photo, afore the Tooth of Time Back: Brien, John, Derek, Toby, David, Robert, Sid Front: Gene (Adv.), Dennis (Ranger), Me (Crew Leader), Greg (Adv.) Click here for the big picture. Why black and white? Philmont did not start taking colour logistics photos until 1993. |
The Philmont News and Photo staff takes two pictures of the crew, just in case everyone has their eyes closed in one or the other. It is a good thing, since in our first snapshot, Dennis, our Ranger, sneezed and has his head down between his legs. Either that or he had wilted in the sun. Thanks go to Patrick Bonz, of the photo staff, who showed me this. What you see here is the "good" picture. This picture was taken between Tent City and the Tooth Ridge, and was before they started using colour photos. Most of the pictures I've seen these days are taken further in, with part of Tent City in the background.
Yes, we look a little strange in this picture. But, remember, it was the 80s. Everyone looked strange by today's standards -- the Chili Bowl haircuts, the triple-stripe Adidas shoes, the Ocean-Pacific everything. (What will we say of ourselves in another 15 years?) About the hair -- I recall that the weekend before this trek, I went in for a haircut. I told Lori, my stylist, that I wanted it cut "very short", because I'd be gone for two weeks in summer swelter. What you see it what I got. That was short for the 80s. Anyway, seems like everyone on the right side of the picture has their eyes closed. Makes sense -- we're facing east at 10:00 in the morning.
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The inside of Base Camp's Dining Hall is quite institutional. Crews -- all of them -- lined up outside the building at meal times. Then, each waited to be called in. This was the only way to avoid the mass hysteria of hungry Scouts. On the wall at its entrance is affixed a large sign displaying the "Philmont Grace", a meal prayer for Jews and Christians. This is a pre-dinner recitation which is actually copied word-for-word from the "Worth Ranch Grace" of my very own Worth Ranch Scout Camp (Palo Pinto county, Texas):
"For food, for raiment,
for life, for opportunities,
for friends and this fellowship,
we thank thee, O lord."
Philmont had changed a couple of the words just a bit. "friends and this fellowship" became "friendship and fellowship". And, in case anyone is wondering, "raiment" just means clothing. In both versions, the wording sounds more noble than saying plainly, "For food, clothes, existence, chances, friends, and social engagement..." At any rate, of all the things which I have forgotten, the grace (Worth Ranch's or Philmont's) is not one of them.
Before being allowed to enter the building, each crew is told to recite the grace. That day, there were several crews of Japanese Scouts at Philmont (more on this later). Thinking about it now, I don't know whether the Japanese Scouts were compelled to recite the Grace. But, this cultural issue never occurred to us then. Anyway, we recited it and went in. The food in the Dining Hall was essentially just like it is at the other summer camp dining halls I'd been to, Worth Ranch, Sid Richardson, you name it. Read into that what you will. Stews, beans, bread, and -- oh yes -- cobblers. Anyway, the cobbler which waited inside spanned the culture gap.
After lunch, we lined up outside the first aid building for our medical re-checks. Philmont wanted to make make sure that no one started out on the trail sick or unable to hike. After medical re-checks, the advisors and I were called aside to visit the Logistics Office. We met with Steve Kohli, our itinerary planner, in a small room the walls of which were fake wood panelling. We were given a large, plastic-coated Philmont trail map on which Steve marked our camps. He circled the locations where we would pick up food (called commissaries), where we would camp without water, and where we could find showers. On this trek, there were only two camps where we could expect to find them, so it was going to make for a grungy, gross trek. I had just acheived my Eagle rank the month before, and I suppose that because of this (and willingness on my part) I was asked to be the Crew Leader. As such, Steve entrusted me with the itinerary sheet on which he stamped,
CREW LEADERS COPY
I was told that it was necessary to present it to each commissary in order to pick up the correct meal and supplies. The entire sheet is taken directly from the PEAKS book. The front of the sheet is a table listing our camp sites, the progammes, if any, they contain, and the menu items and respective commissaries. If I lost the sheet, there would be grave consequences, I was told. I can understand the concern. Philmont must fairly accurately manage the food and resource allocation, and so there must be a reliable record maintained and kept with each crew.
The back side of the itinerary sheet shows a very rough map of Philmont, with the route marked and elevations charted. We never used it, of course, though it came in handy when writing this web page journal:
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North Country:
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I ought to point out for the record that Greg was considered one of our two adult advisors on the trek. In fact, he just turned 21 on this very day... despite the fact that Steve wrote "20" by his name on our itinerary sheet.
Steve identified the main activities at each camp and made notes indicating where special clothing items might be useful (long pants, tennis shoes, &c). He also informed us of where we would be doing our required conservation projects.
I should mention the fact that as our itinerary was designated 13a, this implies that there is a 13b. This is true. Sharing the route with us, but not the campsites, was a sister crew (whose designation must have been 728-something). I do mean "sister" literally, because it was an Explorer post with females. Except for having to share bathroom facilities (and I use that term "facilities" lightly), we got along just fine. Until now, this fact had totally slipped my mind.
As Crew Leader, I would not only carry the itinerary sheet, but also the trail map on which Steve had marked. The rest of the crew members were free to purchase their own maps in the trading post -- and I am certain that our advisors took one along just in case -- but mine would be the one we used while en route. I would keep it folded up and stored in the pocket formed by my pack's lumbar pad.
These days, the trail map that we had used is still sold in the Base Camp Trading Post, though it has undergone a few minor revisions (camp additions, etc). However, it is now considered a "souvenier map", and the caption at the bottom suggests that crews use the three, newer, sectional maps -- these divide Philmont up into North Country, Central Country, and South Country -- for orientation while on the trail. Personally, I do not feel these add any more information except for a finer resolution on the topography lines. Trails are just as easily seen on the older, full-area map.
After getting our affairs settled with Logistics, we proceeded to the supplies complex where we received our equipment and held an inspection of everything we had either brought or were given. Everything had to be in working order, tents, tools, stoves, water bottles, and toilet paper (all-purpose paper, APP). We had actually brought our own stoves (Peak-1) and water and fuel bottles. As the advisors, Greg and his dad stocked up on the "white gas" stove fuel, kept in red, spun aluminum bottles with O-ring gaskets. Cooking and cleaning utensils were obtained from the supply center, as were our tents, dining flies, and ground-cover tarps. We all had our own personal eating utensils -- a Sierra Cup, all-purpose spoon, pocket knife, and frisbee -- though I suspect that the quartermaster's office could have provided these had we not had them.
The cookware consisted of two large straight-sided aluminum pots (no Scout is unfamiliar with these), a smaller companion pot, and one or two 10-inch frying pans. The pans had no handles, and instead, either a pair of plyers, or a specially made pair of grippers (really flattened, modified pliers), were used to lift them. The pots actually served as a means of storing items such as the precious All-Purpose Paper, eating utensils, food packages, and dirty socks. Not to worry, most of these items were kept in Ziploc plastic bags. There were also metal spatulae issued (because plastic ones did not fare well on pans heated by Peak-1 stoves). The rock hounds at the climbing camps such as Miner's Park and Pueblano will tell you that they use these spatulae to scrape Scouts' knees off the rock walls.
Anyway, they issued us a green liquid soap called "Campsuds". This stuff
is allegedly biodegradeable, and said to be very concentrated.
However, we would discover that it was not the best grease-cutter
(though mixing it with sand would help). In addition to this, we
were each armed with little plastic bottles of Campmor's "NEVERBITE" insect repellent.
We had been warned that Philmont, especially the wetter areas,
is infested with tiny mosquitos. Rumour was that they actually
ate this repellent for lunch. I hoped it was not true.
Trash bags, burlap bear bags, and bear ropes finished off the list of items. Tents and dining flies were all checked for tears by hanging them up on rows of clotheslines for visual inspection. All poles and stakes had to be accounted for at checkout. And, lastly, no crew was fit to travel without that insufferable iodine and chlorine tablet water-purification regimine. There were three ways to purify water, only two of which made it drinkable. The first was to drop HTH chlorine tablets into the water. This was sufficient for water used to rinse eating utensils. But, for drinking water, you either had to boil it for several minutes, or dissolve iodine tablets -- provided in about six little brown bottles labeled "Potable Aqua" -- into it. We boiled when we could. Even after 15 years, my Nalgene water bottles smell like iodine.
With the bear bags we received, I and another member of my crew went to the commissary and obtained the food we would eat for the next few days. We had ten people in our crew, and the food came in wrapped packages that fed four. That would mean that we would usually have a bit extra. These meals were checked off my itinerary sheet, and we stuffed them into the bear bags and returned to rejoin the crew.
On the trek, beverages would consist of all manner of Kool-Aid-like
drinks... anything to kill the taste of the chemically sterilised
water. Anything improved the taste, anything except, perhaps,
the artificial cornstarch powdered milk substitute. This was
usually the only kind of "milk" we had available. It was essentially
a less intense version of Coffee-Mate non-dairy creamer, and came in
clear plastic packets. It tasted nothing like milk, and when prepared using
the iodised water, was probably the only thing worse than the
iodised water itself. That gave us nowhere to go but up.
On rare occasions, we would be given real, powdered milk, easily
identified by the mylar packages it came in.
Incidentally, I recently went looking through the backpack I used at Philmont. I don't think I had used it since (which is a shame since it was fairly expensive). After 15 years, it still contains most of the same equipment -- including the iodine tablet bottle. The cap has corroded just enough to make opening it nearly impossible. Perhaps this is really a good thing!
The purpose of weighing packs was to discard non-essential items. But, our advisors had done a good job at advising us what to take and what not to take; and, only those from outside my own troop had excessive baggage.
It was at equipment checkout that I really began to notice that it was getting hot. This is the first impression you get of Philmont -- HOT. Therefore you have no idea of the kinds of climate variations that are to come. During the rest of the afternoon swelter, we were free to explore Base Camp, visit the Trading Post, patronize the snack shop, tour the Villa Philmonte estate, &c. The Trading Post complex sits just behind the Dining Hall, to the north. Adjoined to one end of it is a snack shop that, if memory serves, offers drinks, ice cream, and the likes. The Trading Post offers all sorts of Philmont supplies and memorabilia -- pocket knives, white gas bottles, maps, flags, hats, coffee mugs, patches, T-shirts, sweatshirts, light jackets, Philmont neckerchiefs and their slides, books, and the heavy red wool Philmont coat and its famous Black Bull patch. Most importantly, the Trading Post is where you could get the Philmont belt and buckle, the talismanic items seen on almost everyone returning from Philmont. I decided it was best to wait until the end of the trek to get this.
We were given a thin American flag -- in this case, the old post-Colonial design with 13 stars -- which I carried with me wrapped over the top of my pack. They sold these in the Trading Post as well, but Greg reminds me that,
"...The flag was given to us by Philmont. At least one year, the flags were different and represented all of the original US flags (union jack, betsy ross, etc)."
Um, well not to nitpick, but the Union Jack is the British flag.
But, I guess it does count as one of the flags which have flown over
the land. At any rate, one person on every trek has one of these,
and it is usually carried by the Crew Leader.
In no longer than the time it took us to reach Baldy Mountain,
I think the flag was red, pink, and purple from all the rain.
Nevertheless, the flag was to be carried throughout the trek.
At its end, I would discover, the flag was to be given to the
adult advisors.
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By the time this day was over, I think that we had realised that some in the crew were going to be a bit mischeivous. From the beginning there would be drama. Sid, or his cousin Brien, got into a tiff with another boy from another crew whose tent was somewhere near the shower facilities. I don't remember what it was about, but the other kid started it. To exact his revenge, Sid put a drop of shampoo in the boy's canteen the morning before they would hit the trail. I'm not condoning these actions, because the problems which this can create for the digestive system on the trail can be serious. But I do recall that other the kid had been quite unscoutly, himself. What goes around comes around.
There were other interesting characters. David, a tall red-head, who was always dressed in an army surplus outfit rather than a Scout uniform, would put his hands on his hips and declare that he was a Sandanista Rebel. He kept up this schtick throughout the trek. It annoyed Greg to no end, I think, but I found it amusing. At least it kept the crew lively. As Crew Leader, I had the task of earning these guys' respect, loyalty, adoration, obediance... well, okay, maybe just their co-operation. I also had the task of not losing the precious crew itinerary sheet).
Our first night was spent in Base Camp's "Tent City".
It was dusk, and the remaining light from the sun was still strong
enough to permit some commerce. I was walking around our allotted
area in Tent City when I noticed a crowd forming. A large group of
Japanese Scouts had arrived at the same time as us, and several of them
were taking this opportunity to trade patches and the likes.
Most of the American scouts took this rather casually, but the Japanese
were serious traders. Several of them produced large brief cases
packed with patches from all over the world.
I had a rudimentary knowledge of some Japanese phrases at the time ("Ee", "Iie", "Ohayo gonzaimasu!", "Nan desu ka?", "domo", &c), primarily due to my interest in Japanese animation. I listened as the other kids tried to communicate. The Japanese scouts, fortunately, understood English well enough that the only confusion came when an American scout kept trying to refer to one of his fat friends as a "suma". A flurry of tiny Japanese-English dictionaries arose, and after about a minute, the Japanese scouts figured out that the American was trying to speak a Japanese word. He meant sumo -- as in sumo wrestler. Ah, now everybody got the joke and laughed politely. The language barrier did not prove to be a problem, though. When everyone understood that the goal was trade, hand gestures sufficed.
I managed to trade off my standard, pewter, BSA neckerchief
slide -- though I had painted the fleur de lis (flower of the
lily) a non-regulation blue, white, and, red -- for a beautiful
Japanese green-on-white slide that came from a 1977 Japanese Scouting
event. I still have it to this day.
I also parted with my council patch, cutting it off my uniform
with my swiss army knife. For this, I got a patch for the Eighth
Meiko Oku Toh Chiku Kabu Rarii
(Old House Eastern District Cub Rally),
a maroon Baden Powell House patch, and a beautiful brown hat pin
from a Japanese Eastern District Scout rally in 1967. This final object was of
particular interest to me as 1967 was the year I was born.
One Japanese scout pointed to the blue-and-white conservation award patch above my right pocket. I had gotten it from Leonard Scout Reservation just a few months before coming to Philmont. Technically, its placing was in violation of BSA's dress code. Anyway, the Japanese scout offered a trade. But, although mine was a simple patch, and not all that attractive, I reasoned that, unlike my Longhorn Council patch, it was not something which I could simply replace. So, I declined the offer (Note: When I would return home to Texas, I would discover that I would be unable to replace the council patch I had traded. The Longhorn Council changed its patch's design just slightly by adding "BSA" and a fleur de lis in golden stitching. So, the replacement would not be quite the same. Nevertheless, I think I got the better end of the deal in the trade).
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Gathering for Opening Campfire: Opening Campfire is held on the hill seen here just behind the main gate. Look closely and compare the cross-beam of the gate to the one in the picture at the top of this page. Sometime between 1983 and 1988, it was turned upside-down. |
After patch trading, the evening activities centred around a campfire theatre held on the other side of the highway from tent city. All incoming crews gathered at the Welcome Centre, as instructed earlier in the day. Advisors sipped cups of coffee and scouts milled around on the gravel bus turn-around until the staff announced roll call. We all then flocked acoss the road to the ampitheatre around 8 pm. Primarily, this presentation was designed to inform us of the history of Philmont, the land of which was donated in two chunks to the Scouts by Oklahoma oil tycoon, Waite Phillips in 1938 and 1941. Philmont was originally called "Phil-turn", meaning that it was the "good turn" done by Mr Phillips. The name, Philmont, was reserved for that portion of the land which Phillips initially kept (because it was the name of all his property, initially). When he devoted the second chunk of land, the entire area became Philmont. The performance was given by Philmont staffers who were not necessarily accomplished actors. Nevertheless, certain elements were memorable. The characters included a Pueblo Indian, a Spanish conquistador (with his "Trusty Spanish Blade!"), a fur trapper, a make-shift sheriff, and Waite Phillips. I remember the "Spanish Blade" line of the conquistador because it was repeated several times during the performance, and even more thereafter. David, who had taken to calling himself a Sandanista, also took to the conquistador's line, and as kids of that age do, managed to work it into almost every sentence when being a cut-up throughout the trek. This, too, mildly annoyed Greg. I suppose that was the point.
The sun had already sank behind the Tooth of Time Ridge (photo), and the summer sky took on the subdued blues of twilight. At the opening campfire, we learned the Philmont Song. It went,
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Silver on the sage, Star-lit skies above, Aspen-covered hills, Country that I love. Philmont here's to thee, Scouting paradise, Out in God's country -- tonight. |
Wind in whispering pines, Eagles soaring high, Purple mountains rise, Against the azure sky. Philmont here's to thee, Scouting paradise, Out in God's country -- tonight. |
It's a nice song in that it captures a certain natural, earthy spirit of the surroundings. After 15 years, I recalled the tune only in a basic sense. Since then, with the help of Richard Pettys, I have obtained a MIDI instrumental file (I am going to be considerate, and not embed it into this document directly). I do not know who created it, else I would give proper credit. Also, singer and ranch-hand, Rob Stone, has published a CD with the song sung in 'round-the-campfire style. Of course, without the aid of instrumentation or voice talent, at the opening camp fire, the song was sung the way most guys tend to sing (that is, not sing) at that age. I will leave that to your imagination if you've not attended the campfire, and to your own memories if you have.
| DAY 2: SIOUX |  |
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Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 | |
