Philmont Expedition 727-E1-1994 – 29 July 1994: March Madness / Day 2: Ashes to Ice

March Madness

One of the earliest discussions our troop had about Philmont that I can remember was on the way to a campout in March. We all met up to carpool with Ron and his wife to a local farm. On the way, we stopped to see Luke, Ron’s middle son, playing hockey at a local rink. And on the drive, the subject of Philmont came up. But nothing was decided on that night.

The gate to the access road at our planned camping location was locked. Nobody was around and it was completely dark out. Ron was at a loss and we drove to a gas station to use the pay phone. When that failed to get us anywhere, we struggled to find an alternate campsite. If we came up empty, we would have to go back to the meeting hall and have everyone call for pickups. Or we could go back and camp there.

It wasn’t ideal, but the meeting hall had a flat lawn next to it and a bathroom and kitchen inside. With no other options, we started setting up in the lawn. And hit a solid layer of rocks just a few inches down, making it impossible to stake out a tent. Before we could probe the ground any further, a sudden snowstorm hit. Our backup plan was a bust. The gym floor it was then…

It was a sad excuse for a campout, but at least it was warm and dry. We didn’t do what we set out to do, but we didn’t give up and we got what we could out of the experience.

Day 2: Ashes to Ice

“The tower wouldn’t give clearance.” -Billy, after an unsuccessful bombardier run

Due to our campfire the previous night, breaking camp came with one additional task – dispersing the ashes. Once the fire was completely out and cold, the ashes needed to be crushed by hand and scattered over the ground, leaving no trace that a fire had ever been there. After finishing the process, we unanimously decided that we would not be having any more campfires (my brother’s crew, when faced with the same decision, reached the exact opposite conclusion).

With camp broken and ashes scattered, we headed back up the now-familiar trail to Abreu. Only this time we would not be stopping for drinks. We had several more miles to cover today and didn’t have time to sit around. Besides, root beer would be waiting for us at the end of our journey after 10 more days of hiking.

The challenges here were basic. Orienting the map, finding the trail, estimating our position. And just keeping going. It was tempting to take breaks, but we were warned to keep them less than 15 minutes or more than an hour. Anything in the middle would make it hard to get going again without being sufficiently restful. So we kept the breaks short and made our way to Aguila, another trail camp.

By the time camp was set up and we had finished lunch, we still had most of the afternoon free. Mike suggested a hike to Urraca Mesa, a supposedly haunted mesa that looks like a skull on topographic maps and is known for causing compasses to act strangely. Or so he said. The weather was nice, we had time, so why not do some extra hiking?

Billy, still recovering from whatever hit him the night before, opted out of the trip. Travis and Joe stayed behind with him. The remaining seven of us headed out on what began as a leisurely stroll down some trails through fields. And then up a side of a haunted mesa. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, that for starters. About halfway up the mesa, we could see multiple cloud layers converging overhead. You didn’t need Weather merit badge to know that that was a bad sign. Sure enough, the sky opened up with golf ball size hail. We were fully exposed – no shelter, no cover, no retreat. The best we could find was a large rock to huddle up next to in lightning position while the stings of hail strikes slowly numbed our backs.

By the time it was over about 20 minutes later, we were cold, wet, and sore. The trail had been reduced to what looked like a river of hot chocolate. And any thoughts of exploring the mesa had been discarded. We needed to get warm and dry before hypothermia became a factor. And the nearest source of help was a staffed camp on the other side of the mesa.

Up and over. It wasn’t glamorous and we didn’t bother looking for a trail. We just went straight across the mesa and down the other side, emerging from the trees just outside the camp looking like we had just gone through a hailstorm. Because, well… The staff immediately took pity on us and brought out a box of hot chocolate packets and a pot of hot water. We hung our raingear out to dry and warmed up with as much hot chocolate as we could drink.

About an hour later, we were ready to head back to survey the damage back at our camp. We went back up the mesa and took the trail down the middle back, somewhat achieving our original objective. The ground was covered in balls of ice, still fairly large even after an hour of melting. It was a sobering reminder of the dangers we could face out of nowhere.

Back at camp, we found everyone safe and unharmed. The hail hit them without warning and Billy and Travis took refuge under the dining fly. I’m pretty sure Joe just slept through it. The hail had torn through the rain fly on one of the tents. Luckily, that was the extent of the damage. Two days on the trail and we were already accumulating incidents, damaged gear, and unwanted cargo. This was going to be a long trip.

Next: 30 July 1994: Delayed Gratification / Day 3: A New Beginning