“There are stars in the southern sky…”

I first ventured to Philmont with a Prairie Council contingent in 1980. The trip out, in a van-load of teenage boys with two adult leaders, had me regretting the generosity of my parents and wishing I’d just stayed in Galesburg for the summer, content with the annual week-long camp at Fellheimer Scout Reservation near Gilson. 

We younger scouts, three of us in particular, were teased and pestered by some of the older guys. Long-haired Leroy had gum stuck in his locks. Chris and I were jostled awake in the wee hours as we hauled through Kansas – “Wake up, you’ll miss the scenery.” It was just good-natured joshin’, though. And it pretty much ceased when we arrived at Philmont. Perhaps because we were all in awe.

We trained for Philmont: Took a long, hot hike on the old Rapatuk Trail near Fellheimer, which had become quite overgrown in spots, and suffered a mock shakedown under the tutelage of a guy who had camped at Philmont, or maybe even worked a summer on staff there.

While the shakedown hike was beneficial, it didn’t exactly prepare us for the adventure that awaited in New Mexico.  And while it didn’t meet my expectations, it surpassed them as life outside the cave surpasses the shadows on the wall Plato warned us about.

My boyhood imagination was driven by popular western films and TV and other media. I’d always loved the West, thanks to the influence of my Grandpa Buck and his Louis L’Amour novels. In anticipation of my trip I’d begun to peruse magazines like Western Horseman and True West, which I found on the shelves of Dave’s Book and Card Shop. Somewhere in those pages I found ads for Nocona boots that fueled that imagination. And while I didn’t fancy hiking in cowboy boots, I figured it was quite likely I’d step on a rattlesnake at some point and a sturdy Buck knife would be required to dispatch the vile serpent.

As I didn’t have said knife in my gear, I am thankful I never stepped on the aforementioned rattler, though years later while on staff we killed a few snakes that posed a threat, or so we perceived. One amateur herpetologist admonished us for our crass attitude – Abreu staffer Matt Kenyon grew up in New Mexico and said the prevailing attitude was, “see a snake, get a rake.”  The snake-loving scouter suggested we requisition a pair of snake tongs (can’t remember the official name he used, which at one time I was familiar with) and relocate any problem reptiles.

Sorry, pal, too much trouble. One rattler reluctant to move off the trail to our campsites suffered our judgment. We doused it with a fire extinguisher and pelted it with stones. Stunned but still slithery, it vexed us. Finally we moved in closer and cleaved it head from its body with a shovel and an ax. Knowing the head could still bite reflexively for a while, we dug a hole and buried it, and scooped the sinuous body onto the shovel to have a snake bake. I didn’t have the opportunity to sample snake, but I’m told the fried flesh tasted a little like chicken.

But that all came four years later. Back in 1980, I was happy to not encounter any rattlesnakes and a little disappointed that my only bear sighting was the fanny of a mama shooing her cubs off the trail ahead of us well in the distance. Given the circumstances, that was fortunate; it could have turned into an ugly close encounter.

We experienced plenty of amazing Southwest magic. From summiting 12,444-foot Baldy Mountain to a horseback trail ride to gold panning to hiking into base camp over the iconic Tooth of Time, we reveled in the full Philmont experience. Afterward, back in civilization, I heard for the first time The Eagles’s “Seven Bridges Road.” It immediately struck a chord in my soul and I sought out the single at the downtown record store called, I believe, “The Platter.” By single, kids, I mean the 45 rpm vinyl recording. I have no idea, without researching, what was on the B side.

Well, lucky you, thanks to Google, research is no longer my arch enemy. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about the song. The answer to the trivia question is “The Long Run” (live) was the B side. But you really should read the song history, it’s pretty interesting.