Go Take a Hike

NOTE: I began this memoir in the summer of 2015. I became sidetracked — lost inspiration — as sometimes happens with a writing project. I was reminded of it as I scanned 36-year-old photos today. I touched it up and finished it finally. Hopefully more is to come.

1985 Ponil staff

Days off.

Everybody loves the weekend, but those two words hold special meaning for Philmont staffers. The possibilities are endless.

As much as staffers enjoy program (scout’s honor) and interacting with scouts from all over the world, everybody needs a break from routine. I hesitate to call it “work,” because, well, work in the modern sense implies drudgery. And while Philmont staffers may bust their butts, they do it out of love, and that’s not drudgery, by definition.

A couple days off might find you watching clothes spin for hours in the Base Camp laundry, or trekking through the backcountry to visit friends or take in a program you missed as a camper. Some might equate the phrase with “road trip” — who doesn’t want to experience the wonder of Taos?

Trust me, 30 years on you’ll wish you’d spent more of those days off hiking than doing laundry — or even road-tripping to Taos. Clothes that stand on their own have the advantage of not needing to be folded, and you can take the family to Taos on your tour of the Southwest when the kids are old enough to appreciate the culture and not ask, “Are we there yet?” every 20 miles.

Ponil cantina, left, and trading post

I undertook two noteworthy treks on my days off at Philmont, one each summer. The last was 30 years ago this month — next week in fact. The North Country hike began August 13, according to my summer journal, near the end of the season when crews were low and Poñil could spare its cantina and trading post managers at the same time. Well, in theory. We paid upon our return, believe me.

Cantina manager Dave Mote and I decided to head up the canyon and climb Baldy Mountain, stopping for an overnight at the ridge-top cabin of Henry Buruel.

A review of my 1985 summer journal shows Dave departed August 12 for Pueblano and I left the next day to meet him there. I pick up information from reading my old words, but realize so many details are lost.

“I get to leave at 4:30, so I definitely will be there before dark this time. We’ll even get to watch their campfire. It is really good.”

Dave, right, and I lunching in Ewells Park

Pueblano is just up the trail from Ponil. We must have hiked up before for their campfire and arrived after dark. Not sure I recall that, but it is apparent from my comments.

August 14 saw us “from Pueblano to Baldy Town via Ewells Park. Then it was on to French Henry. We went through program there and went up through Copper Park to French Henry Burrel’s (sic) mine and are sleeping in the old cabin there. The elevation is 10,825 ft. The cabin is built right on the edge of the ridge. It’s dilapidated and quite scary.”

Creaky cabin

Scary is right. My fear of heights kicked into high gear as we climbed the narrow trail up the ridge, leaving the protection of trees below us. It seemed any step could send us tumbling down the hill. I began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. And found I didn’t know it. I think Dave filled in the gaps for me.

Whether or not the prayer helped I do not know. But we arrived safely and dropped our packs at the cabin to explore the area. The cabin lists to the south, leaning out over the valley rather than into the ridge. Its two rooms contained a wood stove or two and a couple cot frames. Dave and I put the rickety cot frames — brought up by previous staffers no doubt — together and laid a double-wide spring-set atop them for our sleeping bags. This we arranged in the room closest to the door, should the cabin become unstable and necessitate a hasty exit.

August 15, we rose early and hiked back down to a snow-splotched Copper Park. At least I think there was snow. It is possible I am confusing this visit with my 1983 Mountain Man trek, which took our crew through Copper and over Baldy. I know there was snow that year, and we enjoyed improvised snow-cones with genuine snow topped with “bug juice” drink mix powder. “Then we left our packs, went up Baldy, and stayed there for awhile. Atilla (Ballity, director of conservation) was up there putting up a plaque in honor of Norton Clapp. He donated the Baldy area and he is about to die, so they’re putting up a memorial. We helped put it in and then went to Baldy Town.”

Installing history on Baldy

Helping install the bronze plaque was a fulfilling experiences — being part of history. I wonder if it’s still there. Maybe our part in history has already been obliterated by time and the elements. Atilla had found a nice flat rock large enough for the (roughly) 10-by-12 bronze plate and was using hammer and handheld cross-shaped bit to drill four mounting holes. Tap, turn, tap, turn, tap, turn, tap, turn. Remove bit, blow out rock dust. Repeat. Once the metal rectangle was affixed with bolts, he sealed the edges with clear silicone.

“From there we went back to Copper and down to Pueblano through French Henry. It was a long day. We taped Pueblano’s campfire and slept there. Tomorrow we go home.”

Oddly, I didn’t mention the presence of certain Base Camp staff in Baldy Town. Or maybe he was government — Forest Service or DNR or something. But a naturalist of some sort was in camp to trap a bear that, upon our arrival, was already treed at Baldy Town, though we were too fatigued to make our way up the hillside to where the action was. Hence my photo of Dave sitting forlornly on a rock wall. I can’t believe we passed up that experience because we were “too tired.”

Thankfully I would receive a second chance 15 years later when I made my solo trip back to Philmont for a Philmont Staff Association service project. While at Indian Writings, I believe it was, the full-time ranger from Ponil had found a bear milling about camp. The ranger’s dog was chasing the scrawny bear all through the camp. It was nuts. I even took photos that aren’t lousy. Not great, but not lousy.

My journal isn’t the best record of daily events. But I am thankful I made some notes that summer. I was pretty regular, even if the commentary was hardly enlightening. The next entry, only a day later, finds me back in camp, noting that, “Only one crew was here today plus one pass through. I found out that we aren’t supposed to gather until the 21st. That’s B.S. I have to get home soon. School opens the 24th and classes start on the 28th. Plus it might be nice to see my family for a while.

“Today I also sent home another $288.72. I got $8.00 in cash to last until I leave; I hope I can find a cheap ride home!”

Such details — pay, school dates for Western Illinois University — are interesting. To me anyway. As are other notes:

August 18, 1985: “It was neat to watch the wranglers run the horses through camp up towards Dean Canyon for winter.”

August 19, 1985: “We had super omlets (sic) for lunch. They had cheese, peppers, sausage, and Picanté sauce in them. They were good! Dave is down to two canisters of Root Beer and about ten Slim Jims. That worked out well.”

August 20, 1985: “We’re ready to go. Not much time left now. All I have left to inventory is any candy and that won’t take long. Today or tomorrow will be my last entry. This is it.”


Previous Philmont Blog Entries
http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/06/who-you-gonna-call.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/06/there-are-stars-in-southern-sky.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/06/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/08/hey-everybody-its-music-time.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/08/some-folks-say-hes-lot-like-me.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-devil-had-nothing-to-do-with-this.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/09/faded-love-and-faded-memories.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/10/hes-devil-not-man.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/10/but-i-know-its-my-own-damn-fault.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/10/man-of-steels-done-got-blues.html

http://streetscavenger.blogspot.com/2013/10/last-song-people.html