Scouts:
Connor Adams
Ricky Adams
Ryan Cambron
Peter Delbrueck
Brian Helmholz
Riley Hsia
Harrison Kwik
Jeffrey Pyke
Jacob Thackray
Advisors:
Jay Cambron
Rich Helmholz
Todd Thackray
Day 0 – Seattle to Philmont, 1628 miles, 7000 vertical feet.
A 6:00 AM flight from Seattle to Denver lets some sleep, making up for the short night before. In Denver, a lost backpack (airline checked baggage) and a wait for our van delay us at the airport. Once in the van, we head south, stop for fast food, and arrive in Philmont about 5:00 PM. Just in time for dinner. We file thru the dining hall and are served a hemisphere of spaghetti from an oversized ice cream scoop. We know we’re in the right place.
After dinner, we’re assigned a block of 6 BSA tents in Tent City, and we settle in for the night. The bathrooms are nice. Showers are too. Some visit the well-stocked trading post, which is really like a mini-REI.
Day 1 – Camping HQ, 0 miles, 0 vertical feet
It’s a long day at Camping HQ, or base camp. We meet our Ranger Matt, who will be our guide and mentor for the next 48 hour. On this day, periods of inactivity are interrupted by pre-trail events. We eat 3 square meals in the dining hall, participate in a health screening, and Matt conducts a personal and troop gear check. The lost pack arrives via overnight courier. We’re assigned troop gear – pots, a sump strainer, yum-yum bags, Camp Suds, a scratcher, and a dining fly. We also get our first 3 days food allotment – repackaged breakfasts, lunches, and dinners of energy bars, cookies, trail mix, Gatorade mix, canned meats, crackers, and Mountain House freeze-dried meals. Assigned gear and food is distributed and stuffed into packs.
There are trips to the trading post and snack bar for food and gear. Then more trips to the trading post and snack bar. The day ends with a Campfire for all the groups scheduled to depart on the following day. There’s music along with a recounting of the history of the area and the family that last owned the land that has become Philmont.
Day 2 – Ponil Turnaround to Dean Cutoff, 2 miles, 500 vertical ft.
It’s to be our first day on the trail. We’re all anxious to get going after 2 nights in Camping HQ, and our bus is scheduled depart at 1:45. It was moved out from 8:00 to allow for delivery of the lost backpack, which arrived early. With some time on our hands, we visit the estate of the last person to own the Philmont Land, Waite Phillips of the Phillips Petroleum family. It’s a lovely old home with nice open grounds. We eat lunch and throw Matt’s Frisbee on the lawn in the shade on a sunny, warm day.
Finally we get on the bus for the short drive to the Ponil Turnaround, where we’re dropped off with our Ranger, Matt. We form a circle for a brief fashion show, each showing off our backpacks to encourage the crew to spread out and look elsewhere while hiking. Then it’s a short 2-mile hike to our camp at the Dean Cutoff.
Once in camp, Matt goes to work. We learn about “smellables”, both crew and personal; Bear Bags, and how and how and when to hang them; Meal prep, dish sterilization, and dish storage; grouping tents to discourage curious bears; the sump and the yum-yum bag; and one-piece trash. As dinner water is heating, we’re caught in a 30 minute downpour that splashes mud on all our gear, and briefly turns the trail into a small stream.
After dinner, we clean some of the mud from our gear, hang our smellables in bear bags, and filter water for the next day’s trek. Then led by our Chaplain’s Aide, we gather in a circle for Thorns, Roses, and Buds. It will be our last activity every night while on the trail. We each share our highs and lows for the day, and the buds we hope will become our roses of the future. We head to our tents for our first night on the trail.
Day 3 – Dean Cutoff to Pueblano, 7 miles, 1100 vertical ft.
We’re up about 7:00 today and break camp for the first time. Wet tents slow our progress and Matt continues to teach and answer questions. No sign of Bears. Once packed and loaded, we hike comfortably thru the usually hot Ponil Creek Canyon, which is now shaded by a blanket of grey clouds and occasionally cooled by light rain.
We arrive at Pueblano, our first “Staffed Camp”. Like all staffed camps, Pueblano is complete with potable water, a full-time staff, and a cabin for the staff’s use. We attend our first “Porch Talk” where we learn about the camp, the camp activities, to which site we are assigned, and that there is advisors coffee in the evening. Then it’s off to our site where we group our tents nicely across the trail from our fire ring, and return to the cabin and camp center for our first Philmont camp activity. Here at Pueblano, it’s spar pole climbing. Climbing 40 ft. wooden poles with spikes attached to our boots and a waist-belt around the pole. All 12 of our crew climb to the top, kiss the karabiner, shout something manly, and praise our donkeys.
We finish spar-pole climbing, return to our camp, and devour our Mountain House freeze dried dinner. The advisors then head to Advisor’s Coffee on the cabin porch to meet advisors from other crews and enjoy a cookie. Midway thru advisor’s coffee, the evening program begins. It’s Logger Ball. Played on a dirt field adjacent to the camp cabin, Logger Ball is something like baseball, using rolled-up socks and rules that only the camp staff knows for sure. They have never lost a game.
Our Pueblano day ended with a camp-wide campfire up the draw from the cabin in a natural amphitheater setting. The camp staff, who turn out to be outstanding musicians, entertain us with stories, gags, audience participation, and some really fine guitar, banjo, and singing.
In the dark now, back at camp, the bear bags go up and down a couple of times as we find more smellables, we exchange Thorns, Roses, and Buds, and we’re done for the day.
Day 4 – Pueblano to Ewell’s Park, 4 miles, 1200 vertical ft.
There is no perceived urgency this morning. The hike is short, the weather good. Our packs are a bit lighter having eaten most of the food we got at Camping HQ, and our next stop, Ewells Park, is a Trail Camp. Like Dean Cutoff and all other Trail Camps, there is no staff and no sponsored programs. Besides, this morning we part company with our Ranger Matt. We’ve grown fond of Matt and dependent on his skills and experience. We’re in no hurry to see him go, and thoroughly enjoy our last activity together – a side hike to Wilson’s Mesa.
Matt leads us across the creek and about 1.5 miles up to Wilson’s Mesa. From here, Baldy Mountain looms in the distance. We each sit in solitude, sensing the beauty of this pristine wilderness - the lake, the plants, the creatures, the mountains; the sight, the sound, and the smell. The sky is clear and the early morning sun is bright and warm. Matt gathers us, and we form a circle in the meadow. There we each describe what we sensed, and our quiet contemplations. Matt produces a copy of “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss. It’s read aloud to the crew.
As we return to our campsite, Matt departs. As one crew member describes our mixed emotions, “We’re on our own now. But, we’re on our own”. We turn to our crew leader for direction.
Our hike along the South Ponil Creek is beautiful and cool in the shade. But it takes an aggressive turn with a steep 1200 ft. ascent to the Ewells Park meadow and surrounding camp sites. We drop our packs at 9000 ft. above sea level. We’ll stay at Ewells Park for two nights. A planned conservation project at nearby Baldy Town today, with the Baldy Mountain summit on day 5. However, we’ve arrived too late to make the 2:00 conservation project and scratch it from this day’s itinerary.
With plenty of time now, we eat an early dinner and linger in the warm evening. Some crew members walk to the middle of the meadow and observe quietly as five beautiful deer graze their way from one end of the meadow to the other. They are seemingly uninterested in the people sitting only 30 feet away as they pass.
A “Leave No Trace” lesson from our Wilderness Guia (Guide), Thorns, Roses, and Buds led by our Chaplains aide, and our crew leader briefs us on the following day’s activities. It’s an early bedtime with a big day 5 ahead.
Day 5, Summit Day – Ewells Park to the Baldy Summit and back, 12.5 miles, 3100 vertical feet.
Our crew leader rousts us early, 5:00 AM. It’s Summit Day. We’ve planned and packed for the lightest load. We’ve got the 10 essentials, water, lunch, etc. in day packs and several large backpacks. We need room to carry the new meals we’ll pick up in Baldy Town on the way back. With some breakfast down, and the rest in our cargo-pants pockets, we hit the trail. A mile or so and 400 vertical feet later, we stop to rest in Baldy Town. There’s time to talk with other climbers, finish breakfast, and fill up our water containers. Then we start climbing…
After an insignificant early wrong-way, we begin to move steadily up, tracing the switchbacks that make for a gradual climb. Soon however, the switchbacks shorten, and then disappear altogether. Our strength and will are tested as we grind our way up, up, into the thin mountain air. One stair-like step after another (yes, this is written from the perspective of an adult Advisor, rather than one of the Scouts for whom thin air and absurdly steep slopes seemed of little consequence). Several short breaks allow the advisors to catch up to the Scouts. After a long break in a lovely meadow at the top of the tree line, we make a final push in a straight line up the completely barren landscape of broken red and brown rock. It’s the remnants of a century-old gold rush that claimed the life of the mountain top.
Finally, we’re at the summit, 12,441 ft. above sea level. We rest. We eat. We marvel at the spectacular views of NE New Mexico and Southern Colorado. There are smiles and congratulations all around, the magic of the summit. It was worth it!
Our descent takes us across high mountain meadows that simply beg for a spinning Julie Andrews from “The Sound of Music”. There is green grass, snow, wild flowers, and endless panoramic views of incredible beauty. Once back in the trees, switchbacks and abandoned roads lead us again to Baldy Town.
We decide to make up the service project we missed the day before, and spend the next three hours in a chain-gang formation with other crews moving a pile of firewood up and out of a Baldy Town campground. The work is easy, we’re in the shade, and we chat with members of other crews. After picking up our next three-days’ food, we haul our now loaded packs back to Ewells Park and our camp.
Our 4th night on the trail is short, quiet, and practical. We’re exhausted and looking forward to a brief letup in our intensifying itinerary on day 6. Thorns, Roses, and Buds send us to our tents and to bed.
Day 6 – Ewells Park to Head of Dean. 4 Miles, -600 vertical ft.
The warm weather and the promise of potable water and programs at the staffed Head of Dean Camp compel us to rise early. Also, there is an emerging competition with a crew from Ft. Payne, Alabama. They share our itinerary, and we’ll see them every day from here on.
Our crew leader has embraced his role and taken control of the trek. He keeps us on track and moving with a gentle persistence. He handles all camp check-in, check-out, program sign-up, and other camp-staff interactions. He also tracks and assigns the myriad of logistical details required to keep our trek on track – how many meals each person carries, pack all the trash, pack all the bear bags, hang the bear bags, take them down, time to get up, time to fix dinner, time to sleep, where to pitch the tents, etc. The crew is falling into an easy rhythm.
The hike to Head of Dean is unremarkable. At least in comparison to the natural beauty we have come to expect here. It’s fairly flat and passes thru the remnants of a recent forest fire. At the Head of Dean camp, our crew leader wins a 2-of-3 Rock-Paper-Scissors contest with another crew leader for a 1:45 program time slot. The Head of Dean program is a series of team challenge events. The advisors manage to step back and let the Scouts figure their own solutions to the challenges presented. The facilitator, Mouse, becomes a crew favorite. After the events, she arranges the Scouts in a circle. There they each describe their favorite event, what they learned, and how they could apply it to the trek.
There is some downtime in the afternoon. Some wash clothes with a tub and washboard. Later, while the advisors are at the camp cabin for advisor’s coffee, the Scouts replicate games from the day’s programs and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. There is bonding. A strong sense of Team now. The advisors agree to make advisor’s coffee a routine, whether it’s available or not.
We finish the day like all other days, sitting in a circle, in the dark, describing in turn our Thorns, Roses, and Buds.
Day 7 – Head of Dean to Visto Grande. 9 miles, -1100 vertical ft.
Day 7 begins at 5:40 AM with the steady sound of an advisor’s voice: “At my backpack there’s a bear. He’s knocked over my backpack, the bear. Through the dining fly goes the bear.” Several crew members have joined the advisor now and watch as a smallish, brown-colored Black Bear makes its way out of camp and slowly up the hillside. It breaks open rotting logs in search of food. The presence of our camp and crew appear to be of no concern.
Soon after the bear visit, the Alabama crew strolls by. Rats! They have a head start.
The hike on day 7 is the start of a 3-day stretch described by one advisor as “the meat of the trek”, covering 32 miles and ending at the 11,700 ft. summit of Mount Phillips. The 9 miles to Visto Grande scheduled on this day take us through the hot and dry Santa Claus canyon and Bear Canyon.
We move smoothly through the canyons. The hike is mostly flat-to-down. We take several breaks and stop to observe a large Rattle Snake that has just crawled across the foot of one crew member. The rattler moves on. Like the other animals we’ve encountered, uninterested in our presence. Soon we cross the Cimarron River and Highway 64. There is a distinctly different feel here. More of a desert landscape, with civilization encroaching. We eat lunch on the hot, dry, dusty ground. Then make our way back up into the trees and to the Visto Grande trail camp. It’s a long day of hiking. That night our advisors visit the Alabama crew’s camp, compare notes, and review maps for the next day’s trek. At our camp a pinecone fight breaks out. Just washed faces and hands are again covered with fine dust.
Day 8 – Visto Grande to Sawmill. 12 miles, 1500 vertical ft.
We’re up early on day 8. 5:30 AM. As we break camp, the Alabama crew strolls by, heading for Sawmill. Bama! They’re a full 30 minutes ahead…
The hike on day 8 is the longest scheduled. At 12 miles, it includes a grinding 2300 feet of climbing. The line of our crew with fully loaded packs marching single file down the endless trail becomes the enduring image. We cross the Deer Lake Mesa, the Devil’s Basin, and drop a demoralizing 800 ft. to resupply at the Ute Gulch Commissary. We know we’ll have to climb back out, with the additional weight of 3-days food.
That morning however, we had passed the Alabama crew as they were taking a break and eating their breakfast. There’s a sense of excitement. Could we beat them to the Sawmill Camp? Then, while at the commissary, the Alabama crew shows up. All is polite and cordial, but we know the advantage is ours. It’ll take some time for them to resupply. So with a barely perceptible sense of urgency, we stuff fresh supplies in our packs, and hit the trail for the remaining 6 miles and 1400 vertical feet.
The pace set by the day’s hike leader and the constant uphill climb are merciless. Feet burn, legs pump, and backs strain against the mountain. All the while, we’re alert for any sign of the Alabama crew. Breaks are few and short. Then, suddenly, we make Sawmill. Our efforts have paid off. The day is ours. The pain in our feet and legs justified.
We’re moved immediately thru our Porch Talk and into the reloading room to begin the Sawmill camp activity – .30-06 cartridge reloading and shooting range. Everyone participates. There are six shots each from the high-powered Savage rifles, and we riddle our belongings. Hats, shirts, and even a wallet are proudly displayed with fresh bullet holes.
Back at camp, our crew tends a fire to heat meager amounts of water for our first shower opportunity since leaving Camping HQ 7 days ago. Most everyone gets partially clean, and some wash clothes in the available sink. We are well into dinner prep before the Alabama crew has finished their shooting program and started setting up camp. The day is ours indeed.
Day 9. Sawmill to Mount Phillips. 11 miles, 2500 vertical feet.
Day 3 of the “meat” of our trek. The last remaining serious challenge to our strength and resolve. 11 miles, 2500 vertical feet, and no water sources anywhere on the route, nor at that night’s camp. It’ll be 27 hours and a strenuous day of climbing before we again have access to a fresh water supply… The Mount Phillips climb looms before us. It’s Summit Day, once again.
We’re up by 5:30, our crew leader sounding the alarm. The Alabama crew is already gone, but we don’t care. We’re proven. Sawmill did that. From now on, the relationship between our crews is only friendly. The competition is over. Our crews begin to mix more. We begin to appreciate how much we have in common. How the cultural gap is not so big after all.
We break camp and pack quickly. A few bites are taken, but most of breakfast is stuffed in our pouches – the cargo pockets of our pants and shorts – to be eaten on the trail. Out of camp, the pace is brisk, and we feel fresh. We’re ready. The climb is constant and gradual up to Thunder Ridge, where we take our first 20, a 20 minute break. We then move into a steeper section of switchbacks climbing toward Comanche Peak. Steps turn to minutes. Minutes turn to hours. The line of crew-carried backpacks stretching in front is constant. The pace is good. The day’s leader is patient. The crew stays together.
At the 11,303 ft. Comanche Peak, what starts as a 20 turns into a 90-minute lunch break. The 200-degree northeasterly view is spectacular! From here we can see our conquests and destinations stretched out before us. Baldy Mountain looks impossibly far away to have stood at its summit just 4 days before. Camping HQ and the completion of our journey is hidden just behind the tip of the Tooth of Time Ridge, more than 4000 feet below and far into the valley.
We continue to climb from Comanche toward the Mount Phillips summit. It’s hard. Steep. But there is an unspoken sense of confidence. We’ve done this before. Our bodies have hardened. Our lungs become used to the thin mountain air. 500 vertical feet later, we arrive at the Mt. Phillips campground, 11,700 feet above sea level. We’re greeted by our friends from Alabama who have already set up camp.
The Mount Phillips campground is unique in that the fire rings have been surrounded by large stone slabs fashioned into chairs. The crew busies itself remaking and improving the configuration. There is a seat for each of us. The circle of 12. We pick names of the Knights of the Round Table.
It’s a short stroll from camp to the summit of Mount Phillips. We spend nearly 2 hours there. Revel in the sparkling clear day and the glorious westerly view. Happy. Summit magic once again. We return to the summit at sunset. It’s a calm, respectful scene as the sun dips below the New Mexico mountains far, far to the west.
There is a campfire this night and plenty of water. We visit with the Alabama crew advisor. Thorns, Roses, and Buds is open and easy. Trusting.
Day 10. Mount Phillips to Beaubien. 10.5 miles, downhill.
There’s a sense now that we’ve done it. The toughest part of our trek is behind us and we’ve all come thru, stronger for our efforts. It’s time to relax, to look up, to drink in the freedom and beauty that this unique experience offers. We couldn’t have asked for a better day and route to do just that.
Our descent from Mt. Phillips to the Clear Creek camp is steep and rocky. Some are quick, some not. The crew gets separated and regroups. We all make it safely to Clear Creek where we take a 20 and replenish our depleted water supply. One advisor pans for gold, gets some flecks in the first pan, and imagines the possibilities. The trapper’s cabin is intriguing, but a commissary stop and the staffed camp at Beaubien await.
At the Clear Creek camp, we pick up the Rayado Creek trail, and for the next few miles, follow the curving Rayado thru a supremely beautiful and peaceful scene. The trail slopes gently down. Wide meadows are filled with grass of brilliant green, and peppered with wildflowers. Yellow, red, purple, blue. The babbling Rayado reveals trout swimming gracefully in quiet pools. Canyon walls are strong and tall against the deep blue sky. It’s a generous reward for our efforts of the last 5 days. Our line of packs moves easily thru. We belong here.
In the early afternoon we stroll into the Phillips Junction commissary. Some visit the trading post for beef sticks or chocolate. Most grab a piece of fresh fruit from the open boxes on the commissary porch. Our resupply is quick and uneventful. We know how this works. Now, it’s off to Beaubien. It’s a steep 1 mile+ climb. It would have been intimidating on day 3 or 4, but it’s a routine 45 minutes for this seasoned crew. After our porch talk at Beaubien, we have time to setup camp – pitch tents, hang smellables, cover packs – and relax a bit before heading to the much anticipated Chuck Wagon Dinner. Someone else is cooking tonight, and expectations run high.
Our Chuck Wagon Dinner consists of boil-in-bag beef stew, Dutch-oven biscuits, and Dutch-oven peach cobbler. The portions are large and there are seconds for all, our crew of 12 and the 143 others at the event. It is good. Crew members describe being full for the first time since leaving home. Satisfied, we make our way to advisor’s coffee and the evening’s program. We’re told it’ll be special because today is July 4th. It’s a bit surprising, that fact. But we’re proud that we don’t know what day it is, much less the date.
The evening program consists of “Lasso the Log” and “Capture the Nalgene”. Lasso the log pits two 4-person teams against each other. They form a circle around a standing log in a pit of talcum-like dust, each holding a lasso. Then, at the designated moment, all try to lasso the log, drag it close, and stomp it with a boot. Our crew competes well. We make the finals and just miss competing against the camp staff for doughnuts and Dr. Pepper, prized possessions indeed. Capture the Nalgene is just like capture the flag, except it’s with Nalgene bottles, in a pasture, with cows.
We head back to camp for Thorns, Roses, and Buds, and reflect on a long and memorable day.
Day 11. Beaubien to North Fork Uracca. 11 miles, -1400 Vertical feet
There’s no rush on this, our last full day on the trail. We’re scheduled for only seven miles, heading into a trail camp, and after an initial climb out of Beaubien, it’s downhill all the way. But sometimes plans change…
On the way up, out of Beaubien, someone notices that the 10,400 ft. summit of Bonito Peak is a mere 800 feet above the highpoint of today’s trek – a saddle about an hour out. As we near the saddle, the idea is raised, ever so subtly, as if it’s an afterthought. The crew is divided. Some want a 4th 10,000+ foot peak in their pocket. Some think 3 is enough and are looking forward to a relaxing day. After much lobbying, trees are climbed, ropes raised, bear bags hung, lunch and water stuffed in day packs, packs lined up, and we are off to Bonito Peak. The hike is much easier than expected. We are strong now and full packs lie below at the saddle, in a neat row. Quartz, mica, and granite line our way. Once at the top there is no doubt about our decision. Yes! It’s Summit Magic at work. Baldy Mountain and Mt. Phillips are in view. The valley floor is far below. Photos all around, a snack, and we’re on our on our way back to the saddle where we eat our lunch in the shade, pleased with our latest conquest.
Continuing down from the saddle takes us into the camp at Black Mountain. It’s a good place to take a break before the long, gradual hike along the North fork of the Uracca River to the North Fork Uracca camp. But, as it turns out, Black Mountain is also the place where the camp activity is black powder shooting. Again there is debate. Some have had enough spontaneity. Some want to shoot. Ultimately all shoot, blasting more holes in worn and soiled belongings. Black powder rifles are a hit. It’s a Rose of the day for many, Rose of the week for some. However, it takes a full hour longer than anyone expects. It’s now approaching 5 PM and we’re about 5 miles from our destination, camp setup, and dinner. What was supposed to be a leisurely stroll down the quiet stream has now become a double-time romp along the most rugged trail of our trek. Feet hurt, ankles roll. But we move quickly, crossing the stream a reported 52 times, and making the North Fork Uracca camp with time to spare.
Day 11, a day of improvisation. The skills we’ve learned and the strength we’ve gained serve us well. We went off-menu. We know now that we can apply our skills to a trek of our own design, from this day forward. This night, we share Thorns, Roses, and Buds for the last time.
Day 12. North Fork Uracca to Camping HQ. 10 miles, -1000 vertical feet. Tooth of Time, Tooth of Time Ridge.
It is with mixed emotions that we break camp and hit the trail for a long 10 mile day. We recognize the value of our time on the trek, but the siren call of the snack bar, showers, toilets, a mattress, and the rest of summer vacation is strong. We move up and out of camp.
Near the top of our climb, we divert. It’s a quick 200 ft. up to Shaefers Peak at 9413 ft. Another summit. There’s no argument now. Photos, smiles, and we’re on our way down, toward the Tooth of Time.
Any false sense that our trek is over is fairly quickly eroded as we march down from Shaefers Peak. Legs and will are strong. But wounded feet that have been treated and adapted for climbing now begin to fail under the shifting load and new rub of our relentless 32-mile descent. The trail is steep and rocky, and our pace slows. We struggle to keep the crew together under the conflicting drivers of immediate pain and awaiting comforts.
At the base of the Tooth of Time, we pack lunch in day packs and for the last time; hang the rest of our smellables in the bear bags we have come to know so well. They’re secured over the high cables preset for this purpose. We’re getting good at this. Then, we start our final climb.
The Tooth of Time is a large and rugged rock outcropping pushing to 9003 ft. above sea level. Its peak is nearly 500 ft. above its base on the massive Tooth of Time Ridge. The trail up seems easy enough at first, but it quickly disappears into a confusion of broken rocks and huge, awkwardly set boulders. The rest of the climb is a scramble. We’re guided by intuition, often using our hands and feet to ensure stability. The crew scatters into small groups and buddy-pairs. It’s exhausting, but we are confident.
Soon our crew is together, sitting atop the Tooth of Time. Around us, the world we’ve come to know. Baldy Mountain, far into the distance. Mount Phillips to the west. Could we actually have climbed and walked from those two distant peaks? Miles and miles of trees, mountains, and the pristine wilderness that is Philmont. We are a part of this now. We fit in. 2000 feet below us, Camping HQ and tent city represent the world from which we came, apart from the real Philmont. But the world to which we will return.
It’s a stunning 360-degree view from the tip of the Tooth. Photos and high-fives all around. We eat lunch, relax, and appreciate the privilege and reward of being here. Soon though, under gathering storm clouds, we decide to head down.
Picking our way carefully among the boulders as we descend the Tooth, we notice a cinnamon colored Black Bear some distance away. It’s moving toward us. There is confusion and concern, then a group of us bond together in an alliance against the approaching threat. Still, the bear moves closer, slowly and deliberately, as if to say “Hey, it smells like you guys have food. I’d like some”. Minds race as we recall our training and prepare to confront the beast. It’s quite close now… Then, suddenly, one of our advisors appears on the scene. He takes a big step toward the bear and shouts “Go on Bear! Get out of here!” The Bear Whisperer. Our Hero. On command, the bear turns and moves away. Safe once again, we continue our decent.
At the base of the Tooth, we repack and head out. The long trek down the Tooth of Time Ridge affords grand, sweeping vistas of incredible beauty. The wind blows under grey skies as distant storms move across the vast plain, over mesas, and disappear to the horizon…
We’re back in Camping HQ now, having just taken our last group photos, “WELCOME BACK – YOU MADE IT!” carved in the gateway header above us. Behind us is Philmont, the beauty, order, simplicity, challenge, accomplishment, and unambiguous purpose that has consumed our lives for the past 12 days. We put it in our pocket. It’s ours now, to draw on and remember as we will. It binds us as we turn and move down our unique and individual paths, and the rest of our days.
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