Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12	E-MAIL

805 - Day 9, Cimarroncito Camp

Hiking out of Harlan

Klocek on the Trail

Leaving Harlan, we arcked southwest and then back up a bit to the Ute Gulch Commissary where we picked up a new supply of food. This commissary was one place in Philmont (other than the Tooth of Time) which I would see again on my second trek the following year. We checked in and I presented the itinerary sheet to obtain our supplies. This was the trail food which would last us for the remainder of the trek. Well, it was supposed to last us. You will see what I mean in the record for the following day.

After loading up with three days' worth of food, we departed for the nearby Cimarroncito Camp. The route gave us some decent views of the white walls of Window Rock from the north-eastern perspective. It would be on the other side of this geologic intrusion that we would at last get a chance to do some bouldering, rock climbing, and rapelling.

As we entered the outskirts of Cimarroncito Camp, we passed several lodge buildings that were not in use. They were the typical brown, wooden Philmont cabins, with red rooves, but they had aqua blue window frames and doors bolted shut. I guessed that these were used for storage. We passed through this area and on into the main part of camp where we checked in. A Holiday Inn flag flew at the office as a kind of signature joke. I wondered where they had gotten it considering that scouts were not supposed to steal. Anyway, it was a little sign of civilsation, and this was one of the more well-staffed and maintained camps on this route. Our campsite was not very far away.

Rapelling, Rock Climbing, and Bouldering

Cimarroncito (or just "Cito" as it's known by the locals) offers a programme of rock climbing, rapelling, and bouldering. This actually takes place to the east of Cimarroncito on an outcropping of white granite nestled in Hidden Valley (it is actually part of the same ridge which forms Window Rock and Cathedral Rock). The granite walls are actually worn rather smooth, making climbing a little less treacherous on the knees. How gneiss!

We did all three activities. Bouldering is where you try to climb up a boulder without help. I am not sure how many serious rock hounds do this except for practise. However, I suspect that it served as an activity which did not require close staff supervision. Their attention was directed at the other two activities.

I had rappelled on several occasions, but actual rock climbing had never been one of my strengths or joys. One thing I remember about this activity was a particularly tight wall climb. You could, if you wanted, try to squeeze through a pass between two solid walls of cliff about 2 feet apart. This, I recall, approaching with significant hesitation. Wished I had pictures from it. Fortunately, the advisors got plenty.

My own climbing effort, hampered by my boots: Former Ranger Michael Latsch pointed out to me recently that the tree seen above me here is still growing.

The operation was run by several shirtless rock hounds wearing nothing above the waist but the white zinc oxide sunblock on their faces. They divided their time bewteen belaying climbers, belaying rappellers, and dishing out the programme lecture and training. One showed us a metal spatula he carried tied to his belt. This was, he explained, used for prying climbers knees off the surface of the rock. Climbing, he said, was to be done with hands and feet only. Oh, and the other use for the spatula was for scraping scouts off the ground when they did not listen to the belaymen's commands and thus fell. Spatulas, I would later learn, were a common prop used by many climbing instructors to both make a point and to add levity. When we later built the memorial climbing/training tower at Leonard Scout Reservation, spatulae were included in our own equipment for the same reason. (Historical note: The memorial tower has, in years since, been torn down by the Longhorn Council in an effort to sell the ranch property to a real estate developer for profit.)

Klocek climbing: See the big picture

I managed to climb, although it was a bit more difficult since I had worn my 6-pound hiking boots to the site rather than tennis shoes. I would make a point to bring better shoes next year. Everyone else, everyone who brought shoes, that is, did pretty well climbing.

Rappelling was another matter entirely.

Since we had already done some of this in my own troop, I took to it easily. Furthermore, klunky boots do not present a problem in rapelling. The staff at the rappelling site had essentially the same rules to which I was accustomed -- the system of belay signals ("Belay on..." when you begin, "Belay off..." or the more distinctive "Splat!" when you've reached the bottom), and the same system of rules such as no "Hot-Dogging" or G.I. Joe-style jumping. The staff explained that we were not paratroopers -- the military may be willing to suffer the loss of life or limb as a result of the undue equipment stress or reckless feats of machismo. But we were the BSA, and had different priorities.

To our right was a huge slab of rock with a sizable crevice between it and the main rapelling surface. In this was forebodingly hidden a gurney for the injured. I am sure this inspired everyone to follow the rules.

The advisor's camera wandered

I have to thank Greg for being the photographer for this event. But, he did not devote his attention entirely to us. In running through his pictures, I discovered one of a stranger, a female scout exposing more leg that I suspect she was aware.

She was, as I recall, one of the members of our sister crew, on route 13b. Of all the climbing pictures Greg took, this one was conspicuously the most close-up, and most clearly focused. What was that I said about priorities?

From the rappelling site, we could look down and see the buildings of Cimarroncito -- the only signs of civilisation around. Cimarroncito offered showers, and was the only site on our route which did. This was our first chance to get cleaned up. Speaking of the showers, Greg insists that there was one humourous incident involving sharing those facilities with the females in our sister crew. Of this, I have no recollection. Maybe it will come back with time. At 15, I only barely had a need to shave my face, but took the opportunity nevertheless. I could not stand the itchy feeling which comes with not doing it. I suppose I was one of the few who bothered with this, though. Most guys at Philmont, particularly the staff members, seem to feel no need to shave, and the some of the most God-awful-looking beards are worn intentionally. I would have none of that. After 8 grimey days on the trail, my face would be clean.

		Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12	E-MAIL