Pulling out of the camp the driver popped in a movie and Chuck groaned. Instead of letting the Philmont Experience recede naturally, with us peering out the window memorizing the Tooth and hoping for our return, the kids were instantly mesmerized by the video world they’d left behind. For the record: I watched the Tooth.

When we arrived at the airport we dropped off some folks who needed to catch early planes and the Blue Sky bossman determined that we had a ridiculously long layover so he instructed the driver to take us into Old Town and give us a packed lunch. It was a capitol idea.

Bagged lunches and drinks in hand we had a chance to get totally away from each other. Naturally most of the kids stayed together, we 4 adults hung together too. And yes, we did twist and fold up all our trash into a potato chip bag. (I don’t think we ate any dropped food from the ground.)

We did split up for a while, I did some souvenir shopping. The kids bought sombreros and fake mustaches. It was a very nice interlude.

The bus took us to the airport where the security guards chuckled at the mustaches. We gathered in the waiting area and BH handed out our Duty to God patches.

After that CHarv handed us our coveted Philmont Arrowhead patches and we posed for photos.

From my journal: I can scarcely believe I’m wearing it [the Arrowhead]! No other patch in my possession cost so much in sweat, strain and tears; in confidence lost and regained; in struggle and comradeship and sheer determination.

I did it. Thank God, thank Chuck my advisor, thank Sara my tent buddy, thank CHodge and DB my encouragers, thank WP my carrier, KC my conversationalist, CG my pacer, CHarv my crew leader, BL my mood lifter, BH my Happy Bubble, AE my role model and Chris M my fellow plodder. I also thank my husband Steve and son Eric who believed in me from the start.

It was supposed to be hard. It was actually supposed to be harder than you thought you were prepared for — even than you figured you could handle. It’s the only way to see what you really can rise to. For some of the crew it wasn’t hard enough–hopefully they’ll be back to try for Baldy.

As for me: I’ll always treasure the 2008 Trek with Crew 803-Echo, Itinerary 14.

As the bus pulled away, I stared at the Arrowhead shape of the receding Tooth of Time. That means only one thing: one way or another, in some capacity, I’ll be back.

Yeah, me too KC.

It was cold and clear as we started up the regular trail. I dithered over bringing the trekking poles, especially since another Scouter had said there was no actual “path” up to the Tooth. There was a beginning of a path, where the sign pointed hopefully but shortly that became a mere suggestion of a route.

As usual the young bucks got ahead. My headlamp wasn’t as bright as it used to be so I was picking my way gradually. I’m pretty sure the youngsters were doing this purely on night vision. I got put in third position when we started up the path and that worked ok until it became simply a huge pile of rocks, jumbled end on end (pointy ends up) with occasional trees growing out of them at odd angles. We were scrambling up these ridiculous rocks (something they’d never let folks do back home). You just know something like this would be fenced off with warning signs! It was one of the things that made it so exhilarating for the kids…it was clearly dangerous and they loved it.

At this point my poles became more liability than help. I needed both hands to scramble up. No way to see the top, no way to know if we were headed toward a cul-de-sac. It was the same old struggle of trying to keep going upwards with no end.

In the dark.

On rocks.

I think it took the better part of 45 minutes to get to the top, but we did it.

When we got close enough to realize that this was really going to be the peak I let the others go ahead while I caught my breath.

As scary and painful as the ascent was it was VERY COOL to be up on top of the Tooth of Time before sunrise. Another crew was already there, sitting on the front-most part and they had climbed up with full packs!! They had hiked all night from, I think, Clark’s Fork (I shudder to think of a night hike across Tooth Ridge)!

I had not brought water; Chuck said that was stupid, and he was right. I had to get water from others. I did, however, bring my foam sit-upon; and that was smart!

Cold-clear dawn was sneaking over the horizon and we did the typical thing–we took a million photos.

I wanted to sing something like Amazing Grace when the sun finally appeared, but the kids vetoed it with groans.

Our sister crew from Mass carried their breakfast, which, in the semi-darkness, meant spilled stuff all over. We had to fight minibears who came to take advantage.

It was a little tough to be “spiritual” with a crowd around but Chuck read a very deep poem at sunrise. It was really amazing how suddenly the sun popped up from a sliver to the full orb seemingly in seconds. We stayed a lot longer than most others– we pranced around (not I, of course)

and took silhouette photos against the bright sky.

Expecting a 3 mile hike down to Base Camp we weren’t in a mad rush.  The clamber down those pointy rocks was even scarier than the climb. I collapsed the poles and mostly used my hands. We got packed up from our final night. No more sleeping on a self-deflating mattress on the ground. We left Tooth Camp around 8:30 and hoped to be down to Base in 90 minutes using our best downhill speed.

Somebody lied. It wasn’t all down hill, to start with, especially at first. And it surely wasn’t 3 miles; more like 6.

Once we hit the switchback trail I was still having trouble keeping speed. For some reason my knees were killing me. We could see Base Camp below like tiny specks (a lot like the view from an airplane) it looked like a toy town. No amount of switching and backing seemed to bring it closer. Plus another crew caught up to us and they didn’t take the proper 5 minute break to open the gap so they kept gaining on us. I called a Herbie Break and they put me in front. Great. Now I was leading 25 people downhill. After about a half hour of my best downhill on a full bladder I just couldn’t do it. The pressure–literally and figuratively–was too much. I called a halt and we let the other crew pass. (Did mention no trees for privacy…I decided to hold it a while.)

Once we got the 3 mile idea out of our heads, and once naviguesser BH announced there were no more switchbacks we all did better. After hours of watching Base appear and disappear it started to get closer. I kept reminding myself that, despite the Hobbit song, the road does NOT go ever on…all trails eventually end.

Looking back on this stretch I realize we did make pretty good speed because around 11 AM we crossed a flat expanse and came to a water stand. Beyond that was a simple sign that said “WELCOME BACK — YOU MADE IT”. There stood a post in the correct position to set a camera for a group photo.

We posed for several shots. The relief was quite evident…but we were almost too tired to rejoice. There were a lot of smiles and congratulations. We’d done it. Ten days through rugged mountains, finding our own way, having all kinds of adventures in all kinds of weather, tagging all the bases and returning safely! Wow!

We strode into Philmont Base Camp–looking back at the peak of the Tooth were we’d sat 6 hours before.

Base Camp was hot; about 85º. People called out “Welcome Back!” as we passed.

From my journal: I am too tired to be excited. “Note to self: don’t EVER do this again!”. The kids are happy–actually everybody but me seems happy and ready to do this again. I just keep shaking my head at the sheer folly of my even setting out on this Quest.

The Welcome Center once again assigned us to tents as far as possible from the Female Adult Showers/Toilets. Ah…home, sweet home!

Boy, was I in a bad mood, but I was determined not to bring everybody down by being sullen and crabby. I smiled, accepted congratulations, tried to banter lightheartedly with other units coming off the trail. I wanted a shower and a nap.

We gathered laundry so that anyone who wore part of their Class A on the trail could spiff up for dinner. Lunch was burgers (not bad) and we ate too much and too fast—first real food will do that to you, evidently it happens to everybody!

I put in 3 loads of laundry with Sara’s help. We carefully checked all the pockets. We scored a wallet, a Chapstick, braided rope and some change.

Sara and I took HOT HOT showers and some lady gave me one of her disposable washcloths. Yecch! I was filthy! And man-oh-man did it feel great!

Somehow the shower began the brainwashing process. The brainwashing is the thing that makes everybody say “It was the most amazing experience of my life” instead of “I never want to go backpacking again”.  Food, shower, clean laundry and, best of all, SHOPPING was what made me start to feel much better.

Oh my gosh, Sara and I went NUTS in Tooth of Time Traders.

I think I walked out with $4 in cash left from my liberal trip stash. Then I went back and bought more stuff on my debit card. We saw lots of familiar faces from the trail: Mass, California, Texas, Minnesota—all crews we hiked with. Everybody had that kind of knowing smile — we were “in the club” and the newbies weren’t.

Base Camp was starting to dwindle in size as the final 10-day crews geared up to leave and camp staff were starting to head back to the world. We, the Homebound, lived in a separate world from the Outbound folk. We had no rangers to chant and lead us in to meals, we lived in a parallel but separate tent city with our own showers.

One plan was to get ourselves into Cimarron just to get real restaurant food (pizza/ice cream) but that idea fizzled out for lack of time. CHarv and the Key 3 did a good job of handling the return of borrowed gear, however we forgot to stash the extra pots we checked out of the Services but didn’t end up taking and we got charged a $15 fee for lost gear. There was lots of paperwork for Chuck and CHarv to do; evaluations, and heaven knows what else–meal tickets, locker keys etc. With Laundry done and sorted Sara and I mostly went back for more shopping. I got a root beer float and really started to feel perky. A typical New Mexican sunshower brought a double rainbow over camp. DB and CG came to find me to make sure I saw it (I’d told them I liked rainbows). They took some photos of it too.  Great guys!

Dinner was followed by Chapel where I, again, helped lead singing at the Protestant service. Then CG and I joined the Catholics at the end of Mass where we all posed for a photo with the priests.

Sara and I left our phones at Security to recharge but when we retrieved them we found out that they’d been plugged into a switched off power strip so they were just as dead as they started. I took a chance and plugged mine in at the Advisors Lounge (right next to the sign that said “don’t leave your electronics here”). While plugged in I called Steve. It was so good to hear his voice! He had just received my woe-filled postcard but he said he’d known all along that I would make it. He filled me in on sports news. I also called my son Eric for a hot minute.

That evening we all went to the closing campfire where the final brainwashing was completed. Every time they showed the sign that read “Homebound” we cheered wildly. After skits, a couple of songs, and old-time movie and the awarding of the WAMI plaques (We All Made It) we received lighthearted warnings about our anticipated return to society.  “Are you READY….to return to a world where you do not have to roll up your trash and fit it into a beef jerky sleeve? Are you READY….to return to the world of flush toilets and air conditioning?”

Walking back under the moonlight I was ready to recite those robotic words.

It was the most amazing experience of my life

CHarv, Chuck, KC and DB got up early and hiked down to Cito and out to Ute and back. Their goal was to reach Ute when they opened at 8 AM.  We got to sleep in a bit, packed up the tents and bear bag gear and sauntered down to Cito where we rolled out some more snack food while we waited. In a sense we had double breakfast once the guys got back. They made wicked good time, getting back at 9:11 AM.

Turns out, Ute was wondering where the heck we were (that’s nice to know) and would have opened up the shop for us if we’d arrived after closing. Another thing for the  list of things-that-aren’t-necessarily-so. (It would have been nice for the Cimmaroncito staff to tell us this.)

After Breakfast Part 2 we set off to Clark’s Fork on the long trail to Tooth of Time Campground.

Estimates varied (one of the things we all were baffled about was the lack of hard data coming out of our fearless crew leader about how far one spot was from another) on the distance and travel time to the Tooth. Some said 10 miles, some said 12. Some said rough uphill, some a piece of cake. I toyed with my GPS and an area map to try to figure out intermediate coordinates to get some kind of distance/time reading.

We hiked right past yesterday’s Conservation Project and on to Clark’s Fork, where we planned to rest for a hot minute before pushing on towards Shaeffer’s Pass, the most dramatic climb of the day.

We were hailed by Kira, a CF staff member and invited to set down our packs and rest a spell; to layover so we wouldn’t be climbing in the worst heat of the day, and have our dinner for lunch to lighten the load. Sounded good to us, especially as she assured us it wasn’t that bad a hike to Tooth Camp– about 3 hours (remember what I said about trail liars?).

We responded to her siren song and set up in a nice shady area, cooked dinner, ate, napped, and discovered a really great branding outfit. They had even more brands than Beaubien, and we had come up with even more stuff we wanted branded.

branding Chuck's Bible

One crew member asked the branding man what was the most unusual thing he’d branded. He said, with a straight face, “A dead guy.”

After our initial shock he explained that some old Scouter, a dedicated Philmont trekker, died and had his ashes brought to Philmont, and he’d branded the dude’s urn.

We had a nice little recess then loaded up with water (Tooth is a dry camp) and started off toward Shaeffers. I did the best I’d ever done in hiking slowly and steadily with very few breaks. The path to Shaeffer’s was elongated due to the many switchbacks and winding trails but there was nothing horrendously steep. CHodge’s ankle was really acting up again. The weather was hot and dry (be careful what you wish for, remember when it was cold and wet?). As a crew we were proud of staying together every step of the way.

Kira’s 3-hour prediction was WAY off. It took 3 hours just to get up to Shaeffer’s Pass. By the time we reached the side hike to Shaffer’s Peak AE and I were beat so we took a nap and guarded the packs from minibears while the others went up to the top for the view.

The GPS turned out to be pretty useless in telling distance since it only measured as-the-crow-flies and I didn’t keep it turned on all the time in order to conserve batteries. It was handy as a “where are we now?” tool, and was better at elevation readings than my fancy watch.

We had a totally typical New Mexico shower, over almost before we could get our gear on. Shaeffer’s Pass is the beginning of the Tooth Ridge trail. The views were nothing short of spectacular. We could see the Rockies, the Webster Reservoir, many peaks and mesas we had no names for, Mount Baldy and glimpses of the Tooth of Time.

We encountered some hikers, without packs, on their return trip from a side hike to the Tooth and were dismayed to hear that they’d been hiking back for an hour and 20 minutes. It was 6 PM and we’d been on the trail since 2 (from Clark’s Fork, not to mention the hike from Websters, to Cito to CF).

The trail became so severely rocky that we took back every bad thing we’d ever said about our dear old Pennsylvania Appalachian Trail! We were literally clambering over boulders and sharp rocks, nearly losing our balance any number of times with packs teetering on our shoulders. Chunky rock is one place where having trekking poles does no good at all; there’s no reliable place to set the pole into and it’s just as likely to get caught in a hole and trip you.

We saw a rainbow in the distance and took a lot of photos.

Every time we thought we were approaching the Tooth it turned out to be some rocky outcropping, which I started nicknaming “Another False Tooth”.

Around 7 PM the trail began to switchback down sharply away from the summit, much to our surprise. Fortunately, a day hiker told us that we had not missed the Tooth Trail and that we were only 20 minutes away from the Camp. By the time we passed the Tooth Trail sign we were too tired to explore the summit. We were focused on getting to camp and eating our lunch-for-dinner.

We had lost that chipper edge we’d started the day with, except for a few hard-core hikers like CHarv, DB and WP.

Tooth of Time Campground had, maybe, 7 crews already set up and we were the last to arrive. Naturally the goal for the morning was to climb the Tooth before dawn and watch the sunrise. At that moment, despite my promise to stay positive, I could not remotely imagine clambering up that monster in the darkness.

Tooth Camp had some of the weirdest rock outcroppings we’d ever seen. No wonder geologists love Philmont! We set up like pros, ate, cleaned up, decided on a wake up time and hit the sack.

And we hit it hard.

We wanted to make some time since we knew we had a long hike to Websters Park, then a hike beyond that to program and conservation project at Cimmaroncito, not to mention a side hike to food resupply at Ute Gulch.

We saw lots of mule deer, berries and KC spotted a bobwhite. I really enjoyed being up front chatting with KC (I can only carry on a conversation when going downhill or on a flat).

Once we got to the bottom (Hunting Lodge) and started up the long long hill to Websters it got hot and hard. Even though it was mostly switchbacks and reasonably gradual it seemed unending. Our biggest two problems were the need to spend 3 hours engaged in a conservation project (required for the Arrowhead) and the desire to do program, which was rock climbing, balancing that with the need to get to Ute Gulch before the depot closed at 5 PM. Websters was 1.5 miles from Cimarroncito, and Cito was 2 miles from Ute. It wasn’t like we would pass Ute the next morning, it was away from our direction of travel.

This was a genuine problem for the youth leadership to solve, and it was serious enough to require a lot of consultation and thought. Earn the award? Do the fun/challenging program? Get food?

We hiked up to Websters and set up camp quickly. Websters featured a plastic Pilot to Bombardier in a field in plain view of God and everybody.  Didn’t phase us. As we hiked down to Cito the Key 3 developed a plan.

Because we had a fair quantity of snack food on hand, and because the Cons project would expire in a little while the Key 3 decided to start with conservation.

We could not believe how far Conservation was from the main campus of Cito. Though a gradual slope it was a good 3/4 mile with no shade to a field where trees were being cut and stacked, wood was being hauled and a bonfire was in full control mode. At this point I wanted to bail in the worst way. Screw the patch. I kept that thought pretty much to myself and slogged down with the rest. CHodge was probably regretting, just a bit, her return on a high-mileage day.

We grabbed hard hats and some beat up work gloves and sat with our rain gear and water bottles ready as a conservation ranger gave us a long, kind of boring but necessary talk about what was wrong with Smokey the Bear.

You see Smokey, as a concept, encouraged Americans to put out all forest fires when, in fact, forest fires are part of the natural cycle of life on Earth. Underbrush needs to be cleared out (often by fire) so that new growth can proceed. Invasive and non-native species are also sucking up 60 times more groundwater than the native trees and this reduces the water available in reservoirs. The Philmont rangers were working to restore the balance by cutting down large swaths of underbrush, too-dense trees, and non-native plants, hauling it away and burning it. We got to help.

Chain saws had already toppled a bunch of Ponderosa pines and scrub oak and our job was to limb the branches and haul stuff across the road. The idea was to make a litter from two small trees, load it up with lots of small branches going cross-wise, and have teams of two take them to the staging area. We worked well, even I got my energy up to be somewhat useful.

The long day, the long hike, the anticipated long way back and stress about food added to the general pissyness of the crew and there were some snaps. We got working, though, and sorted out the jobs to suit our strengths and energy levels.

BL and CG were well suited to this work because they’d done the same thing in their jobs or volunteer positions back home. BL could limb a tree in record time and there seemed no limit to how much brush the wiry CG could haul away. By the time a thunderstorm rolled in for the 5 o’clock shower we’d put in our 3 hours and were ready to head back.

Remember: Ute Gulch commissary was listed as closing at 5 PM. Two miles away.

The Key 3 reviewed the situation one more time and made some key decisions. We’d raid the swap box at Cito, pool our snacks for dinner then head up to Websters for bed. We regretted missing rock climbing for a few minutes but decided that was something we could get back at home.

snack for dinner

We adults went to Advisor’s Coffee while the crew chilled. We hiked back up to Websters and I had an epiphany.

From my journal: I can DECIDE to keep a positive outlook tomorrow. I will NOT bring the crew down by being negative. They have worked so hard to help me succeed and I can at least be gracious and positive.

We used the “caterpillar” method once it got steep at about 10,400. This method, gleaned from Chuck’s conversation with another crew, involves sending one crew member forward 100 steps while everyone else rests. When the forward member calls out the rest of the crew chugs foward the distance and pushes enough past the marker person until the end of the line is past him/her.  The new forward member climbs 100 steps and the process repeats. This means nobody has to do more than 200 steps at a push (second person in line has two sets of 100) and everybody gets a reasonable amount of rest. This worked amazingly well as long as they kept me out of the rotation. I was able to make it to the next goal with baby steps or resting steps (step-rest-step). I fell once when my right leg gave out on me and several of us had altitude headaches.

We crested Phillips around 9 AM and were the second of 5 crews to make the summit. It was a beautiful sunny crystal day with unlimited visibility. There was a biting cold wind so the 50º temp was wind-chilled to something in the forties.

I MADE IT!!! Wow!! I could scarcely believe my amazing accomplishment. Encouragement, pacing, attitude, determination really paid off and I thank my crew members for providing a heaping dose of the above.

We were freezing but CHarv and WP had planned for a long time to pose for photos in their skivvies so they dropped trou and did the deed.

I had been planning for months to hoist a PA state flag on top so we unshipped it from whoever’s backpack (DB?) and lashed it to two hiking poles and claimed the land for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

Our California counterparts, who arrived first, had boiled water and were serving hot chocolate. (see why we liked them better than the Texans and Massachusetts crew?). God Bless California! The minibears went nuts over chocolate powder that was blowing everywhere, and we didn’t care.

We took LOADS of photos, everybody had to pose with the flag, everybody had to have their group shot.

Then we found a wind break and read the service that is specifically for reaching a peak.

After this I told them about my mother, Clarice Herbert, who died in November of 2006 and I explained why my son and I carry some of my mother’s ashes whenever we travel to a place she would have liked and leave a bit of “mom” whenever we go. CG was interested to know that Clarice is one of the people painted on a mural in Germantown which he had seen many times. Now he knows who that lady is (far right side of the Six Women of Germantown at 5820 Germantown Ave in Philly).

We went back to the windy summit, moved a few rocks below a wooden post (not the main sign post) and read the Prayer of St. Francis while I emptied out the little pouch of ashes and replaced the rock.  I marked the peak, as I try to mark all of mom’s resting places, on my GPS.

Finally we set off for Comanche Peak, down a couple hundred then up a couple hundred. Did not need the caterpillar method but it was almost as hard. Why doesn’t it get any easier? I kept repeating “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” [I looked it up later, it's Phillipians 4:13]

At Comanche we had lunch, I substituted tuna for chicken, easier to eat out of a can than a pouch. It was steep and full of slippery rocks down for awhile. We hit a really cool scenic overlook and another leader pointed out that if we came down off the trail a little bit we could see the snow-capped Colorado Rocky Mountains. For the first time since day 2? we had no rain. I was able to pull out my wet stuff and toast them dry in the sun. We finally go too hot and stripped down to usual hiking attire. It was wonderful.

From there it was about 4 miles down a long, shallow, mostly switchbacked trail which did seem a bit eternal. We were dry and warm and going downhill at a good clip. We were pretty focused on getting to camp and today was a long long hike. Just about 3 PM we hiked down into Cypher’s Mine camp and there was CHodge waiting for us!

It was a joyous reunion! She had been bored and lonely at Base Camp. My guess is that she wasn’t severely injured so there wasn’t much for them to do with her/for her. Also that extra day of inaction drove her nuts. We really missed having her around and we were relieved that the Key 3 was whole and functioning once again!

I had a wicked headache and the downhill pounding had my knees swollen.

We found out that at Cyphers we would sleep in “muckshacks” which are oversized 3-sided lean-tos…which, frankly, seemed like a violation of Youth Protection rules to me. Nevertheless we prepared to pile 13 male and female youth and adults like sardines into a space meant for about 12.

There was no rain for the afternoon program which consisted of a mine tour, a blacksmithing demo, and panning for gold. I missed all of it to sack out alone in the muckshack and ease my knees. I also missed the evening “Stomp” show for the same reason. The crew had great stories to tell about pitch darkness in the mine tour—evidently “somebody” got pretty freaked. At blacksmithing they made an iron hook to take back home to put in the Scout House.  Nobody got rich panning for gold.

One of the cool features of Cyphers was its focus on the local geology. Just as we were arriving some geologists (they looked like professors or other seasoned enthusiasts) were holding court on the porch teaching visitors about the rocks found at Philmont.

Somebody informed us that the frequent rains were caused by some hurricane in Texas. We were hoping to see the meteor shower but besides being deep in a wooded valley it was cloudy so sky watching was out.

From my journal: I’m in an uncharacteristically glass-half-empty mood again. Worrying about our longest days tomorrow and the next day. Even though I made it today I still worry. It takes away from the joy.

Sleeping that tight together in the muckshack was actually pretty funny. Every little comment (or fart) got us going again. It wasn’t until Sara sang us a song that everybody stayed quiet long enough to drift off to sleep. Despite the chill in the air the shack stayed quite warm.

Another clear morning but nobody trusted it. We could see the dew steaming off the meadow in its haste to get back to the sky to form today’s thunderstorms.

morning mist

We launched without breakfast, went down to a spring to fill up bottles. It was, thankfully, not the same stream the animals waded in, but rather a long wooden trough leading from a separate water source, however the water was a bit muddy so we held a bandanna over the mouth of our Nalgenes to catch some of the silt. This made fill up slower.

CG took a turn as “naviguesser” and he set a good pace. I was really boogieing in the early morning, flat and down slope. Warm/Dry/Downhill was my mantra. We were able to make a mile or two along Rayado Creek and were looking for a sunny spot for breakfast and devotions but we were stuck on the shady side of the creek so we finally just picked a place with convenient logs and halted.

We met our “sister crew” from Framingham, Mass several times as we leap-frogged past each other. Crews coming from Clear Creek (our destination) told us it wasn’t that far or that steep. Despite the encouragement I was learning not to trust other hikers’ assessments. Either everybody underestimates a trail once they’ve finished it or everybody lies.

After eating I seemed slower. We wanted to beat the inevitable afternoon t-storms so we pushed on past noon. KC noted that the scenery along the creek didn’t change as much as it had on previous days. By 12:25 we were in camp. The last push was kind of hilly but not overwhelming. The hikers had been right.

The Clear Creek Fur Traders cabin was cool. We ate lunch and got camp set up ahead of the thunder. The elevation was 10,285 which make me and Chuck pretty sleepy and headachy, so we sacked out while the crew did black powder shooting, beaver trapping, and tomahawk throwing.

The storms were not close to us (probably below our elevation) but the threat of flash flooding in the South Country kept Base from returning CHodge to us… no vehicles were allowed on the roads. Everybody was bummed, Chuck was pretty frustrated about the difficulty of making contact and getting our lone crew member back. The biggest bummer was that CHodge did not want to miss the summit of Mt. Phillips but now she’d have to meet us on the other side, at Cypher’s Mine.

Drizzle didn’t stop the cooks from making dinner. After that we went down to the cabin and the camp staff challenged each crew to make an animal from their collected trash—best animal to win a prize. Our crew made a little penguin but it didn’t win. Some folks sat around a campfire outside the cabin. It’s amazing how your mood shifts the moment you stop feeling clammy clothes against your skin.

We advisors went up to the upper cabin for coffee and chatted with the guys from a California crew. Their leader was originally from the old Valley Forge Council and still wore his Delmont Lodge 43 flap.

The staff set up a tomahawk throwing challenge between crews. WB, AE, and CHarv entered and CHarve made it to the finals, in part by guessing (knowing?) how many stars were on the flag of that period. In the end he tied for second place. One of the Californians stuck the hawk in a playing card on the target to win.

Watching other crews, I was proud of the high level of togetherness our crew was displaying. Some other crews seemed fragmented, they split up on the trail, they sometimes sniped at each other. We did well, supported each other, and had a really successful day.

Ahhhh...sunshine!

We cooked a leftover dinner for breakfast (the one meal that the kids did not like…some kind of teriyaki pasta meal mixed with some kind of veggie & beef soup?)

Didn't like this one

DB hated it

Choked it down and stood in the sun and tried to get ourselves back into trail mode.

Sara took CHodge down to the staff porch to get re-evaluated. If she was to be extracted it would need to be from here or Phillips Junction–because our destination, Crooked Creek had no road.

CHodge was being super brave and determined to try the 1.25 miles to PJ. We finally got rolling at about 9:30.

The hike got sunny and nice and it was 90% flat along a creek and I led very well. Very few ups. Met a crew from Wilkes Barre coming the other way. A couple of us tied or clipped our wet clothes on the outsides of our packs to dry as we hiked.

By Phillips Junction– a resupply depot & micro trading post– CHodge was totally in pain and it was a tough situation. After much consultation it was decided to take her off the trail and back to Base Camp in the pickup truck that was collecting trash. We had a group hug, encouraging words and tearful good-byes. The plan was to give her a rest day in camp, then she could be trucked out to us before we took the summit of Mt. Phillips.

I missed CHodge a lot because she was one of my main encouragers, and she’s also an excellent VP along with BL as part of the Key 3. Having one more person who needed a slower pace gave me some camaraderie. Much as I wanted, at times, to bail out, I pondered what it must be like to be back at Base cooling one’s heels while everybody else was either arriving or leaving.

I strung my wet clothes over bushes and packs and while the kids went to the commissary  to pick up and distribute food for the next 3 days I went to the store. I was DYING for chocolate…somehow I got into my head that a KitKat bar would be just the thing (or Snickers). No dice. The minimalist trading post held essentials such as fishing bait, carabeners, rain gear, batteries, and duct tape; the only food items they seemed to have were an amazing assortment of beef jerky flavors.  WP bought a bunch of them. But I wanted a chocolate bar. Dangit.

back-country phone

We did get two guys better pack covers since that plastic trash bag trick SO did not work! Got tent stakes, post cards and other incidentals (they take mail at depots and will either sell stamps or take the money for stamps to be affixed back at Base). WP was tired of sharing a bowl with BL so he bought his own fold-flat bowl.

After dividing up the meal packs and retrieving laundry (too bad more people didn’t get their stuff dried right then), we finally got going. Heavy with food and water we hiked out around 12:15 for a short hike to Crooked Creek.

All the way, CG, our unofficial meteorologist kept looking at clouds and raising the percentage chance of rain. My gadget-watch with the barometer and altimeter built in was less than reliable. It kept reading partly cloudy when it was pouring rain or telling me I was at 8,500 ft when the map said we were at 9,300. The problem was that both the baro and the alt relied on air pressure which is affected by big changes in altitude and weather. With both variables fluctuating wildly as I went up and down mountains the watch kind of had a nervous breakdown.  CG was more accurate when it came to weather.

Thunder began to dog us AGAIN. We pressed on and arrived at Crooked Creek homestead about 30 minutes ahead of the rain. We hopped to and got going with bear bags and tents just as the skies opened up with 5 minutes of pea sized hail followed by close lightning (L+1 to L+5). We huddled in our tents, resetting our 30 minute timer after every crack. Were we safer all together in tents? Should we be crouching on our sleeping pads? Finally around 3 PM the storms finished. We tried to do some camp stuff but the regular, steady rain followed. After a quck late lunch we ended up hanging out at the homestead porch.

The Homestead was set up like a 19th Century farm house. The staff reenacted a family, wearing period clothes, and actually cooked their meals on a wood-fired stove and slept on the rope-tightened beds (“sleep tight” refers to pulling the ropes taut every night to prevent sagging).

I took in part of the house tour and then parked myself right by the fireplace and stayed there! Got dry and happy while the rest of the crew wandered about or played checkers or solved puzzles on the porch. The guys adopted the local rooster, named him “Little Señor” and gave him a lot of welcome attention. A very chill (meaning laid back) afternoon.

When the homestead officially closed so the staff could have their dinner break we noticed some decidedly un-19th Century music coming from an iPod in the kitchen. They deserved a break, that’s for sure!

Leader’s Coffee is one time when the youth get kicked off the porch. It was nice to sit and chat with other advisors and have some cake. At 7:30 everyone was invited to help bring in the livestock (a cow, calf and 1 or 2 donkeys) and we lined up to take a turn milking the cow. That turned out to be fun.

Good dinner of tortillas and a long devotional reflection followed. We got into a really deep discussion about our obligations to the poor. Keeping the spiritual component in the trek was mostly BH’s job as Chaplain’s Aide and it was a welcome change from the survival chores. Meanwhile, back at chores: we tried hard to be strict about bear procedures, especially getting every smellable item up in the bear bags, since there had been bear sightings recently. Every time the water dripped off the trees onto the bear alarm (two pots stacked on top of each other near the sump) we got jumpy.

The best thing about Beaubien is the whole day layover! We woke up nice and late to partly cloudy skies that later gave us sun for a couple of hours. I did not feel as much like quitting but was still pretty whacked. We got our wet stuff set on clotheslines but were not sure that the sun would last.

We took stock of our situation and discovered that  CHodge had a pretty sore ankle. She was kind of worried about managing on the trail, even bandaged up by our intrepid medic, Sara.

The water for the male shower house was heated by a wood fired stove and they could not get it fired up with all the soaked firewood around so most of them took icy cold showers.  The female shower house was heated by propane so we were lucky.

after a nice shower

Sara and I did laundry at sinks with washboards! We used my Dr. Bronners peppermint soap which the REI guys had said was fine for the trail (in terms of being biodegradeable, I guess) but our clothes sure seemed smellable. (We think a minibear later made off with one of Sara’s…um…garments.) We should have used Camp Suds. As far as getting stuff dry I just put on one of my shirts and it dried on me! The boys compared their 4 day beards and did some touch ups with a sharp knife. That’s real trust!

shaving each other with a pocketknife

The plan for Beaubien was conservation project, horseback riding, a visit from Father Mike, and a chuck wagon dinner. Getting in so late the day before meant something had to give. With thunder over the mountain (we never got a serious rain at our camp) we opted to put off the conservation project until a later camp.

Father Mike showed up (chaplains travel the staff roads in a Suburban—they don’t have to hike) and we all went to the outdoor chapel to hear Mass. Chuck, a Eucharistic Minister back home, got to serve the Host— a first for him!  Pretty cool!

Father Mike in the chapel

There was no rain yet so we set out to go horseback riding, or at least 10 of us did. We’d been told back at Base that anyone over 200lbs would not be allowed to ride so we made  reservations for 10. CHodge’s ankle was really hurting and she sat out for a while on the trail down to the corral. Several of our crew went and sat with her, supporting her and helping her debate whether to come on down to ride.  She joined us for the riding safety demo but then decided to sit out.

Posing at Beaubien

got a little Captain in us

CHodge and medic Sara hobbled back to camp to join the 200 Club, chasing minibears out of camp and whatever chores needed doing.

Altogether about 35 people showed up to ride, including a 230lb guy who’d been told that Beaubien had one or two horses that could handle heavyweights. (Another one for that list of things-that-aren’t-necessarily-so).  We got our horses and mounted up.

Chris and his horse

Herbie and horse

The trail was picturesque and mostly without incident, although my horse, “Hops” got a little freaked out when the horse in front of him got kicked by the horse in front of HIM. Hops took a little side hike and I had to wrangle him back into the group. We moved to another spot in line  (horses have best friends and enemies just like people do).

trail ride

This is part of Philmont that is kept as a cattle ranch and the short-horned cows and calves are all tagged and grazing. We got a nice tour through cattle country before heading back to the corral.  No rain!

Back at camp the afternoon activity was getting a whole lot of stuff branded! The two brands are the Bar-P-Crazy-S cattle brand and the Slash-Crazy-S horse brand.

cattle brand

horse brand

Derrick was willing to brand anything but human flesh and you could do it yourself or let him do it. We branded hats, belts, Bibles, the frisbee, Nalgenes, Crocs, boots, even my foam sit-upon (garden kneeler)! It was really cool.

Derrick the branding guy

Had a power nap while two cooks (WP and BL) went off to the chuck wagon shed to help make 26 dutch ovens with biscuits and peach cobbler for the evening chuck wagon meal.

26 dutch ovens

This being a layover camp there were a LOT of crews in. Not only the guys we’d been seeing (Massachusetts, Minnesota, California and Texas were regulars) but others as well.

Man o man! That chuck wagon dinner was DELICIOUS! And not just because it was real food, it was good in its own right. Beef stew heated up in big pots (they didn’t make it from scratch– it came in prepared pouches, but yummy) and served with a big dollop of dutch oven biscuit. When called, each crew’s own cooks went up and served the crew.  There was enough for seconds, and I stuffed myself.  The peach cobbler was runny and scrumptious. Something about a shower and good food makes you feel like you can take on anything!

peach cobbler

I went to Advisors Coffee (held at staffed camps every night around 6:30 or 7)  and we met one of those ultra-light crews–actually they are the unit of some guy that posts online and Chuck knew of their guru. They don’t allow their guys’ packs to be over 40 lbs fully loaded.  Gear nerds.

I enjoyed the Beaubien campfire even more than Crater Lake’s (but most of the kids still felt the Crate-ah was tops). Warren, the MC, was loud and crazy and quick with quips to the audience, although he razzed AE about something she said and the boys took umbrage. The staff played and sang some good songs and we all learned the “authentic” cowboy yell (not Yee-Haw…more of a Yeeow!)  Since Beaubien is a two-night camp they don’t do the same routine twice in a row. Derrick told a long and funny tale about Ted Turner and the “one-cheek sneak”.  They like to make fun of Turner because he owns some adjacent land and there’s some tension about it.  The half moon was rising over the pines as we went to our tents.

From my journal: Today I prayed more sincerely than I’ve prayed in a long time; for strength and stamina to keep pushing on.

CHodge’s ankle was not getting better. We hoped she wouldn’t have to come off the trail. A light thunderstorm cruised by during the night, no biggie.

Continental Tie and Lumber (the Crate-ah Guys) is styled as a lumberjacking outfit. The primary activity involved learning to clime a spar pole. You strap gaffs (a pair of single spikes) to your instep and you get into a harness that seems similar to a rock climbing harness. Bryce made it clear that we were not doing any “sissy” rock climbing!  He made a big show of all of the equipment especially the “crotchal D-Ring” which he made us yell several times just for the joy of it!

Crotchal D-Riing!

It wasn’t a “safety helmet” it was a “brain bucket” (cause if you fall, they’ll send your brain home to momma in a bucket).  It’s not a “belayer”, your safety rope is being held by your “donkey” (and you’d better say something REALLY NICE to your donkey or you might be in trouble).

BL is the Donkey

Strapping the harness around the 3 storey tall smooth pole wasn’t hard, but the combination of moves needed to propel yourself up the pole was pretty tricky:

Curb stomp the gaff (not up too high) into the wood of the pole, straighten and lock your knees, pelvic thrust to heave closer to the pole long enough to slap the harness a couple of inches higher, lean back and curb stomp that pole again.  When you get to the top you must yell something manly (or WO-manly), nothing stupid like “hey, I can see my house from here” —’cause you can’t!

Chuck lovin' the CRATE-AH!

We had a great time in the hot sun, even our crew member who’s afraid of heights did a great job. I was not so lucky because the pelvic thrust was no good for my back so I topped out at about 3 feet.

Herbie going part way up

Here’s a list of our manly and WO-manly sayings:

BEEF JERKY! (Sara)

I WONDER WHAT’S ON TV RIGHT NOW! (KC)

I LOVE PHILMONT! (DB)

CATS UNITE! (CHarv)

GATORADE! (CG)

MEOW! (BL)

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE THE CRATE-AH! (Chuck)

WAWA! (BH)

I LOVE LIFE! (WP)

AND YOU LIKED IT! (CHodge)

I WANT A PHILLY CHEESE STEAK! (AE)

I FEEL THE OUTING IN SCOUTING! (Chris M)

It was pretty tiring first thing in the morning, especially when we were looking at a challenging climb later in the day.

We had no idea.

After a few false starts we finally found the correct trail out of camp toward Fowler Pass and Trail Peak. It was about 11 AM. The choice of trails was up to CHarv and he chose to hike OVER Trail Peak with packs, not trying it as a side hike. The other way would have been much longer. The attraction with Trail Peak is not so much the peak as it is the crashed B-24 Liberator bomber just the other side of the top. The guy were planning to stand on the wing and….um…well…pee off the wing “at 10,000 feet”.

The plan looked good on paper. There were lots of Herbie Speed switchbacks. The late start had us concerned about a late day T-storm. Early on, just after 12, we could hear thunder but in that valley we could not tell where it was coming from. Eventually I saw a flash that counted out too close. We scattered apart down the trail and went into lightning positions. It seemed a long time, about 45 minutes? Unlike a few days ago in a valley with our ranger this was scarier. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer.  Thirty minutes after the last close one we got back on the trail. It was about then, in the steady rain that we realized a few things about our rain protection: the two guys using trash bags to cover their backpacks regretted it.  Almost everybody was disappointed in their rain gear. The Frogg Toggs people and the Sierra Designs people were getting slowly soaked to the skin.  My Frogg Toggs pants split from bring crouched down. (Remember, we’d had no serious rain on our training hikes so this was the first real test.)

It was too rainy to break open the lunches so we just kept hiking uphill. We were just short of Fowler Pass, sort of a mini peak, when another storm crested the mountain. After a moment of indecision by the youth leaders Chuck kicked in to safety mode and yelled for us to get BACK DOWN the mountain, off to the sides if necessary and this time “GET IN OFFICIAL LIGHTNING POSITIONS!” (evidently a number of people were freelancing the last time). Another hour of counting and resetting and trying to figure out if you could die of stiffness and pain before you died of being struck by a bolt. The kids entertained themselves with songs and mind games (great kids!) and we finally got up and hiked up to Fowler.

It was still too rainy to open up lunch but by this time (2 PM?) we were famished. We decided to break out any snack food that anyone was stashing. This was real trail decision making; no staff, no cafeteria, no trail shelters. We considered putting up the tarp but it seemed impractical. As it turned out Chuck and Sara had some serious piles of leftovers from all the meals where one person or another just couldn’t eat another Larabar, ProBar, beek jerky pack, banana chips, trail mix pack or even Oreos. Chuck started pulling things out of his “loaves and fishes” bag and we had quite a selection. We chowed down (never was saying grace so heartfelt).

the loaves and fishes bag

We’d come up about 800 feet to about 9,200 at the base of Trail Peak and it got hairier from then on. On our side of the peak the trail climbed freakin’ straight up about 1,000 feet in one mile. (Remember the Sandy Run Trail up to the AT?).

I was so weary from spar pole stuff, lightning positions etc that this was just too much. I had to take 10 – 20 baby steps, then rest. I wasn’t too cold, even though soaked through, because of the exertion but it was maddening to make everybody stop and wait. Eventually (and this was the only time this happened) most of the kids went on ahead. KC and CHarv stayed just ahead of me, setting a target for me to climb to, then coaxed me up to the next target. Everybody kept encouraging me “Come on, Herbie” “Just a little farther” “You’re doing great, Herbie” “You GOT this Herbie”. DB was also a great encourager. I wanted to give up but there were literally no other options. The other 3 adults kept telling me what a great job I was doing but to me it felt hollow because I wasn’t doing great–I was almost crawling. I was so ashamed and frustrated. Tears came, and not for the first time.

Finally WP and AE and DB reached the top. This was all the more amazing because WP was carrying all of my spare water bottles and my tent. Several of those guys were loaded with other people’s gear. WP dropped his pack and hiked at least 10 minutes down to take mine off my back. Without the pack I could go 40-50 steps at a time.

We passed 10,000 feet for our first time at Philmont and the rain slacked off. Finally at 4:09 PM I reached Trail Peak.

I made it. Everybody else seemed thrilled but I was too beat and too humbled to get in the spirit.

From my journal: Why am I here? I’m holding everybody back, they have to spend so much energy on cheering me on and carrying my gear. I hate being the weak link. These sure are great kids.

We had a really tasty lunch. Canned chicken (Ben had taught us how to drink the juice first and to make the can lid into a scoop.) There were some mayo packets which made the chicken-and-crackers more like fancy hors d’oevres. Our plan was to do our daily devotion and leave a note in the canister at the top.

Gradually we noticed fog rolling in but we suddenly realized that, at 10,000+ feet that it wasn’t fog, it was a CLOUD! A clap of nearby thunder brought the further realization that it was a storm cloud and we were ABOVE the oncoming storm.  Holy Smokes!  We grabbed our stuff and proceeded to get the hell off that mountain top.

Wouldn’t you know that as the last person up the hill I was the first person down? This side of the peak was switchbacks, fairly smooth going and I put it into afterburners and was boogieing down the hill at a ridiculous speed (fear will do that to you). I was leading and leaving kids in the dust. Right after eating somebody back there was getting a stomach cramp. Again, me in front and no map, I took the turn off toward the crashed plane without realizing it.  I hollered “I can see the plane wreck!” and CHarv hollered back “Great, but that’s not the way down!” It was starting to rain again, still thundering and going to visit a metal plane wreck just didn’t seem wise, did it? “What should I do?” I called back. “Take a picture and come back this way!” was our chief’s reply.  It’s not much of a photo…maybe somebody else got a good shot.

It was 2 + miles downhill off Trail Peak…switchbacks, which are so helpful for gradual climbing are annoying when you really want to make tracks downhill. Somewhere down below was more plane wreckage.

B-24 fuselage below

The trail seemed endless.

There was a tense moment where we came to an unmarked (not on the map) road crossing our path. It wasn’t clear where to go and people began peppering CHarv with questions and he didn’t have a clear answer. I unpacked the small GPS and tried to get a signal but the first time you try to get a signal in a new location it takes a long time to adjust and it just wasn’t happening. We stayed on the trail, walking and walking and walking downhill in a drizzle, soaked, tired, frustrated. We came to a real road, with cows grazing and we knew we must be near Beaubien, our home base for the next 2 nights. But the road kept going. Miles. Seriously! I wasn’t the only one dragging…there was a general feeling of “oh-come-on-now!”

But all trails come to an end and as Beaubien crept into view I realized that I might be in the early stages of hypothermia.

I have almost no memory of our arrival at Beaubien, except that we signed in at 7:30 PM (Do they ever send out a search party when a crew is late?)

At some point they gave me my sleep clothes and I went into the Red Roof Inn to change. By then our tent was put up and I slipped into my sleeping bag. I know the crew had breakfast for dinner so they didn’t have to cook. I didn’t have anything. I could hear the evening show, lots of stomping a cheering. Then sleep.

We made it before the sun got up. The horizon had clouds but the sunrise wasn’t bad.

Inspiration Sunrise

Ben talked to us about preserving Philmont’s wilderness and beauty by following the Philmont Wilderness Pledge and thinking about how we can make the most of our time and experience. He was very moving about his love and care for this place.

Inspiration Point

We had time for reflection and I expressed my fears that I really cannot do this, that my slowness handicaps the group. Ben said he’s seen people like me make it. Many times he reminded us that the plaque at the end says We All Made It. The kids gave me a lot of positive feedback.

We signed pledge cards and hiked back to camp and packed up, had breakfast and filled up with water. Most staffed camps have piped water that does not have to be purified.

We pushed out of Urraca at 8:57 AM…last crew out. Ben and I swapped packs for the climb back up the Mesa. Putting me up front with another slow paced scout made me feel like I was accomplishing something and not being left behind. One problem: up front and without a map or a ranger I took a super steep trail that turned out to be a Ranger shortcut. Having gotten that far, inching along, it was pointless to backtrack so we “kicked that pig” as Ben put it. It was a proud moment for me.

I stayed in front most of the morning (though Advisors are not supposed to lead). More ups, then a lot of descents. Actually I went too fast on the non-rocky downhills and had to slow down.

Ben’s path and ours parted ways a while later. He left us with a few words of encouragement and said, that if he was open, he might meet us on the Tooth on our last morning (no guarantee…the Rangers get a new crew after a day of rest). Once we got past Stonewall Pass and on the way toward Crater Lake we put KC up front as the “naviguesser” for the day. We got to an intersection and Sara and Chuck thought I was getting too involved in the negotiations about the route but I was really just trying to get somebody with a map to give me a heads up on the topology and landmarks (for some reason I feel better when I know when relief is coming). I got upset at being told by the other advisors to back off. It was a “day 3″ moment (depending on how you count days this was either our 3rd day of being out of base camp or our 2nd full day on the trail). “Day Three” is the one they warn you about…when you start getting touchy about things you’ve been ignoring.

We did a lot of switchbacks. I like Philmont’s switchbacks, every UP was tempered by a flat place and as long as I went gradually I could cover longer distances without a million “Herbie Breaks”. We ate lunch on the trail close to 12 and pressed on.

Arriving at Bear Caves, an unstaffed camp, at 2:30 wasn’t too late considering our late start. The problem/challenge was to set up camp and decide whether or not to hike over to Crater Lake for spar pole climbing and campfire 1.5 miles away. “Day Three” tension reared it head with tension between crew members. We advisors tried to stay out of it unless it was a safety issue.

The campsite had our first pilot-to-bombardier latrine. This is a two seater back to back, no roof, no walls. Some are built with a divider (backrest?) between them like the one shown below. Others are just two flip tops. This one was down a substantial hill, a LITTLE bit out of the line of sight. It was a bit intimidating to think of taking care of business kind of in the open. But the call of nature (and nature called pretty regularly because we were being fed a lot of fiber!) had to be answered. At one point DB came back up the hill and said “Now I’ve had the full Philmont experience; I’ve crapped back to back with KC!” I had brought a rubber-ducky shower curtain for this eventuality. I found that if I wore the curtain over my head like a cape held on by my cap I could create a tent effect.  Sorry, no photo of that (yet).

Pilot-to-Bombarier

There’s a way to set up tents that is safest for not attracting or trapping wildlife, plus we were taught the 5 Ws of to tent selection: Water, Wind, Weather, Widowmakers and (BL couldn’t remember the 5th one so he said “Wanimals”) Wildlife. Also tents must be 50 feet from the Bearmuda Triangle of the bear bags, the sump (a screened drainpipe) and the fire ring–where we eat meals.

Threatening thunder slowly passed without rain and that made it out of the question to make program at Crater Lake.

There ensued a very LONG and very THOROUGH crew consensus meeting about a late afternoon plan. It took awhile with many discussions and plans A, B, C, D, X, Y and Z pretty much. After beating the decision to death we all agreed to hike to Crater for the evening campfire and inquire whether we could get an 8 AM program the next day.

After camp set up and dinner we hiked (downhill, mostly) to Crater Lake. We got there just in time for the campfire. Wow, it put Urraca’s show to shame. The staff had good musical skills and told killer jokes (mostly Kindergarten humor and animal cruelty themes—don’t say “meow” to Sara [IN joke]). Everybody had a good time. The staff’s trademark line is “We have sweet beards and smell of bacon!” So life is good up at “The Crate-ah!”

They have sweet beards and smell of bacon!

We hiked home in the dark…an interesting prospect considering about half of us forgot flashlights. Ever hike with the blind? We had people calling out obstacles “Root!” “Big rock on the left” “Rock in the middle” “Puddle”. It was like braille hiking but we made it back. We’re due back tomorrow at 8 AM for program.