On June 28, I woke up at 4:45 a.m. I was going to Philmont Scout Ranch, a 136,000 acre ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico. I had no idea what to expect, but first my group had to drive the thousand miles there.
That morning as I met up with the rest of the group going with me, I remember wondering what I had gotten myself into. Here I was going with two other fellow 16-year-olds, three adult leaders, and you guessed it, five 14-year-olds. I had known most of these guys for as long as I could remember, but two weeks in a desert, with no internet, no air-conditioning, no food (I’m sorry I don’t consider dehydrated food — food that has been frozen and placed in vacuum to get any water out– actual food), no TV to watch the World Cup, and basically no access with the outside modern world. I then reminded myself that I did indeed love the outdoors, and I was to experience what many say is the epitome of a Boy Scout’s experience. I was excited, but not quite yet pumped.
As most trips go, we got to our destination: the base camp of Philmont. I can still recall what I saw that first day. In the distance, there were literally hundreds of canvas tents, making me imagine that we were actually in a military camp. But I was not in the army. I was at Philmont Scout Ranch.
I then started to examine the mountains and began to realize that I would be hiking on those mountains for the next two weeks. As I walked around base camp, I felt as if I could see the difference between the people departing on their respective treks and the people going home. The latter seemed to me to be dirty, tanned from the sun, tired, and just ready to go home. The people like me not yet in the backcountry were still clean, ready for an adventure, but perhaps a little scared.
The following day, I finally got out into the mountains. The first day was easy, only a half-mile hike, but we were still getting acclimated to the thousands of feet difference in elevation from the several hundred feet elevation back in Saint Louis. We also had to undergo different types of training, such as putting up a rain fly, food preparation, bear safety procedures, which we later learned were of vital importance, and basic medical knowledge. After that first day, we would hike consistently every day, about six or seven miles on the trail with our 45-pound packs. I felt lucky, considering the weight of my pack. My grandpa carried a pack weighing over 100 pounds, on his landing on D-Day in WWII. All I had to deal with were the elements of nature and the occasional desire for civilization.
We woke up generally around 6 a.m., departed by 8 a.m. and got to camps by 2 or 3 p.m. This left us with a great deal of time for exploring around the campsites and bouldering.
We did this on several occasions, but did especially well on one afternoon. In this place, we were able to rise several hundred feet, climbing from boulder to boulder, and we were able to see far above the tree line and watch the sunset. That is an experience that you don’t forget.
We also were able to do different activities, such as black powder shooting, tomahawk throwing, candle-making, and homesteading. The most intense activity I did with the staff was in a game where two people were harnessed into two different ropes on a climbing wall, about 10 feet above the air, and then having to get the opponents’ bandanas out of their back pockets, with the first one getting an opponent’s bandana winning the game. I was unlucky enough to have to go against the number two rated staff member in that area for this game. I was able to tie one game and win another, but he eventually beat me in the best out of five.
The beauty of nature is indescribable in the English language, only to be understood by seeing it for oneself–the cascading mountain streams, the aspens and pines rising into the sky, the brilliant colors found in the sky throughout the course of the day, and the views from the various mountains that we scaled while being there. To finally come to the top of a mountain after a full day of waiting for the moment to actually be there, and place the pack on the ground, take a swig of water, and then look in awe at the great enveloping mountains and plains is, in my opinion, one of the greatest experiences a person can know.
One of the most exciting encounters I had while being there was to see a bear in the wild. It occurred on my second day on the trail. We had been told that a bear was in the area, and for a just a space of a couple of seconds, we were able to see a bear for ourselves. We later found out after we had gotten off the trail that there had been several bear attacks while we were out in the wilderness. I am glad that I was lucky enough to see a bear, but not become so familiar with one.
My time at Philmont will always be in my memory. It is not the kind of thing that people are generally given the opportunity to do. It was a learning experience, one that taught me much, regardless of the short time I was able to spend there. To be in the backcountry for an extended period of time allowed me to reflect on my life, and hopefully not take everything so much for granted.
Many of my ancestors helped settle different areas of the West such as Wyoming, Utah, Arizona and the Dakotas. Although I felt that I know a little about their histories, and the difficulties they had to overcome, being on this experience gave me more understanding and a gratitude for what they had done, dealing with not only the elements of nature that I saw, but having to gain a resolve to settle a place and make the best of it. That is something I know I can learn from. Philmont is a place to which I want to return one day. I will remember you, Philmont, a place that I will also be able to relate to and recall when I wish to be away from the city and be again in the place where humans first dwelt, in the wilderness.
