Today we begin our ten day trek. We began
the day
by having our group picture taken. They take it at the beginning of the
trek while we are still clean and handsome. We will probably not be
very
clean after the ten days in the back country.
We boarded our bus, which was to take us to our
drop off point, in the early afternoon. The route took us past the
troop
leader training center and the Kit Carson museum. It was a mile and one
half trip from our drop off point to our first campsite. Greg made sure
that we knew how to use a map and compass before we started hiking
toward
the camp.
Our first one and a half miles. In a way it was
exiting. It was a short preview of the sixty six others to come.For
many
of the crew members it was the first time wearing a fully packed
backpack
for more then a few hundred yards.
We made it to the camp without any problems. We
had just finished setting up camp when a pair of mule deer walked
walked
by the outskirts of our site. We became like statues instantly. The
deer
paid little attention to us. After a few minutes they wondered on, but
in that brief moment they had given us our first taste of how well man
could be a part of the wilderness also.
It was time for supper. Out came the food, pots,
and stoves from the various packs. Along with the equipment came our
first
problem. We had bought two new backpacking stoves shortly before we had
left on the trip. We had tries to light them only once before we left
on
the trip. It had seemed easy enough.
But now that we were on the trail, and not one of
us could remember the proper way to light the things. “Get the
instructions,“
someone said. But we didn’t have the instruction along on the trip. I
had
left them on the kitchen table back home. Oh well, it was no big deal.
We would figure it out.
I tried lighting the first one, and almost got burned in the process.
The stove had sprung a leak and the whole thing was aflame. The only
thing
I thought of, as I tried to blow it out, was that if I was not quick
enough
I could have the stove blow up in my face. It was not a pleasant way to
start a ten day journey.
After the fire was extinguished, Scott began to
work with the other stove and soon had it lit. At least we would have
one
stove that worked.
This evening’s supper consisted of beef stroganouf,
sour cream and vegetable soup, and peas. All dehydrated, of course.
Greg
came up with this great idea of putting all of it into one pot at the
same
time. It would save cooking time, he told us, and make a minimum of
dishes.
Suddenly, I found myself beginning to dislike this
ranger. Being an extremely picker eater myself, I was concerned about
eating
trail food as separate dishes. A suggestion to mix everything together
in one pot caused me to have a slight amount of paranoia. Needless to
say,
I did not eat much supper that evening, although everyone else seemed
to
get their fill.
Ever get drunk on sarsaparilla? It is not a pleasant
experience. I know. I speak from experience.
After supper and clean up we hiked the short distance from our camp
to the Abreu Cantina. Our first bit of business when we arrived was to
order a pitcher of sarsaparilla and have a few chug-a-lug contests.
Pitchers
were emptied and new ones were ordered.
Chug-a-lugging gave way to a game called quarters.
Quarters is played by each person attempting to bounce a quarter off
the
counter into a glass of sarsaparilla. If successful he could then pick
someone to drink the glass.
I found it to be any interesting game. It is also
hard on the stomach if you lose to often. Or, if the winner likes you
too
well. I watched the Scouts play it and they were not having any luck
getting
the quarter into the glass. So, being the suave leader that I am, I
entered
the game. It was not one of my most brilliant decisions. The Scouts
started
to dunk the quarters. And guess who was chosen to drink a lot of the
brew?
We drank six pitchers of sarsaparilla within thirty
minutes. Gerry, Robert, and I seemed to have drank the most of that.
Our
stomachs were not ready to handle this type of abuse. We went outside
to
get some fresh air and try to settle the rumblings and pains that were
beginning to occur within our bellies.
Robert and Jeff walked off toward the stream. Robert
was grumbling about a stomach ache. Jeff told Robert that he had a way
to make him feel better. Jeff stuck his finger down his throat to
demonstrate
how well it could work. Robert did not need to use his fingers.
As Jeff was laughing, Gerry, who happened to be
close by, walked up to them to see what was going on. When Gerry saw
that
Robert was ridding himself of his drinks he also bent over and joined
him
in the activity. Though not by choice.
Gerry and Robert had their backs to me when I saw
them. Jeff was standing next to the two bent over figures, laughing and
having a good old time. I like a good joke so I started walking toward
them. I turned back as soon as I realized the nature of what was going
on. If I had continued to them any further, I would have joined them,
and
thus made it a threesome. Robert asked the staff of Abreu for a shovel to
clean up the mess. They told him not to worry about it. It was an
occupational
hazard that came along with the cantina.
Nine thirty came and it was time to hit the sack.
That is if you are not on bear watch. My watch began at three o’clock
and
would last until six thirty, which was the time we had planned to arise
to get ready for a new day. Due to the nature of the watches taking
place
during the dark hours of the night, and the active imagination of
teenage
boys, the crew decided to pair up for the watches. This was popular
because
now a person would have company on the watch. But it also had the
disadvantage
of doubling the time spent on watch duty.
Oh well, we would see how it would work.
August 6
This morning was the first sunrise I had
ever seen
at Philmont. It was quite interesting. The rest of the camp was
sleeping
peacefully as the first rays of sunlight crept into our valley. The
trees
were tinted a reddish hue as the beams crept down the hillsides toward
the valley floor. It was time to awaken the crew but I wanted to watch
this event in peace. The sky continued to lighten and the nights
shadows
slowly crawled away to hide for another day. The trees began to regain
their green color again.
Breakfast consisted of beef jerky, and what Brian
called “flour and cereal”. The flour was actually powdered milk. The
cereal
was of the granola variety. We hit the trail by 8:05 am.
Our first stop of the day occurred at Abreu, the
same place we were for the previous evening’s activities, although this
time the stop was not to have a drink. No, this time we came to
participate
in the two programs provided by the camp staff.
The first program was burro racing. Sound easy?
It would be except for a couple of minor complications. First, everyone
needed to learn how to pack a burro properly. Oh, excuse me, how to
pack
gear on a burro properly. This turned out to be an easy job, we
discovered
after forty five minutes of instruction.
Each team would consist of five packers. Each packer
was assigned a specific task in placing the pack and gear on the
animal.
Forty five minutes of instruction would be crammed into five minutes of
actual work.
“Gentlemen, mount...I mean go to your burros!” One
member from both teams walked down to the corral. The other packers
laid
their gear out on the ground. Enthusiasm spilled over from the packers
into the watching crowd. The burros are placed at the starting line.
The
packers are ready to begin packing the gear onto the burro’s back.
Here’s a thought. Does placing gear onto the back
of a donkey qualify the person doing it to be called a burro back
packer?
Anyway...
There’s the harness. The boxes practically fly onto
the animal’s back. Everything is being strapped down.
And there they go!
Well, the other team is going. Out team is still
packing. But not for long. There they go, leading and prodding the
burro
along with shouts of excitement.
We are still coming down the first leg of the race
as the our rivals turn around the post at the half way marker. But
wait!
The Melrose crew makes its move and catches up...
...nearly.
Both teams are in the home stretch. The rival team
is in the lead. Suddenly, the gear in their box shifts. It slides down
the side of the burro and falls to the ground.
Our burro decides it has had enough of racing and
stops to grab a bite to eat, much to the dismay of the crew. Doesn’t it
realize we could win if it only would move a little further?
The rivals have repacked and are back in the race. But so are we! Here
they come.
It is going to be close.
The rivals cross the finish line first. We trail
behind them by a mule length, or two. The judge approaches to declare
the
winner. The winner is...
...US! He has disqualified the other team for
improper
burro packing. He awards us with a blue ribbon and a picture of
sarsaparilla.
We can hardly contain the trill of actually winning the race.
It was time to try our hands at making adobe bricks. This simply
involves
digging dirt from the ground, and mixing it with sand, straw, and
water.
It is then placed into a wooden form. This muddy mixture is finally
placed
into the sun to bake until it is hardened.
There is also a second use for this muddy mixture.
Grab a handful or two of it, pick out a volunteer next to you, and hurl
it at him with all your might. Then run quickly so you don’t get hit
with
the next toss.
Jeff and Robert started the mudslinging in our
troop.
The other crews were already well into mudslinging by they time we
joined
the party. Brian grabbed a handful and snuck up behind Greg. He looked
at me as if to ask, “Should I get him?” I looked at Greg, who still had
not noticed, then back to Brian, and nodded my head. Brian reached out
and smeared the mud onto the back of Greg’s green staff shirt that he
happened
to be wearing.
For just a moment, about half a second, Greg just
stood there with his eyes wide with surprise. As he turned he looked as
if he was ready to breath fire. Brian turned white and glanced my way
again
as if to ask, “What do I do now?” He probably would have asked me
verbally
if he would of had time, but he needed to start running for his life at
that moment.
The race was on. After it was over I asked Greg
about it. He said that when it first happened he was quite upset, but
he
quickly calmed down when the chase began. “It comes with the job,” he
said.
Our next stop, Aguila Camp, was approximately three miles away. The
two hour hike took us by some beautiful Philmont backcountry. It also
gave
us our first indication that Gerry may not be physically prepared for
the
trip. By the time we reached the camp Gerry acted as if he was near
death.
Greg picked a campsite which looked over one of
Philmont’s valleys. We all gazed upon the breathtaking view as we ate
our
lunch. We finished setting up camp just in time for the daily afternoon
rain shower.
We gathered under the dining fly which had been
pitched low to the ground. Greg reviewed some first aid with the crew.
The rain was still falling as he finished so we laid back for a short
nap.
Four hours later we awoke. Well, at least we made up for a little sleep
lost from staying up on bear watch.
It was during our stay at Aguila that we were
introduced
to the open air latrine (oal) which can be found at some campsites in
Philmont.
The oal’s are similar to a two hole latrine except for two main
differences.
First, the seats are back to back instead of side to side. Second,
there
are no walls. In other words, you are literally exposed to the world
while
using one.
It took some convincing to get Brian to act as a
oal salesman as I took a couple of pictures. He even sat on it with his
pants around his ankles. He kept his shorts up though.
The ranchers from the other two 804 contingent crews
joined us this evening around the campfire. Our crew talked with Greg,
Charles, and Judy about our home states, books, movies, and anything
else
that happened to come to mind. As 10:30 rolled around we decided to
call
it a night. Bear watches would only be an hour long per person this
evening.
We still had no luck seeing any bears.
End of Page 3.
Note:
This journal was written by Steve Borgerding and
is his property.
No part of this journal may be used without his
written
consent.
He can be reached through the web master of this
site.
