Philmont Expedition 727-E1-1994 – 30 July 1994: Delayed Gratification / Day 3: A New Beginning

Delayed Gratification

I still remember that day in third grade when I knew I wanted to join the Boy Scouts. My father and brother had already been involved in Scouting for years and I had been going camping for as long as I could remember, but it was a flyer left on the desk of every boy in the class (and only the boys; BSA would not allow girls to join for another 30 years) when we got back from gym class that made things clear for me.

It showed Scouts going rock climbing and having other adventures. That’s what I wanted to do. At age 7, I had a thirst for adventure. The previous summer, desperate to experience new things, I went on a road trip from New York to Texas with people I barely knew. There was so much out there to see and do. Scouting seemed to be a good way to explore some of it.

But my father wouldn’t let me join.

He never explained his reasons, I just wasn’t allowed to join. I resented that at first, but there were things I didn’t understand at the time. I didn’t understand the difference between Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts. I didn’t understand the Cub Scout program. And I didn’t understand that what I wanted wasn’t a part of it.

As it turned out, my reason for wanting to join was the same reason I wasn’t allowed to. I wanted adventure and Cub Scouts wouldn’t deliver that. My father knew I would hate it and protected me the best way he knew how. It was hard to accept at the time. Maybe it could have been handled better. But in the end, I was glad.

I joined Boy Scouts as soon as I was eligible, when I was exactly 10 and a half. And now I was having one of the biggest adventures Scouting has to offer.

Day 3: A New Beginning

“I am a war movie!” -Travis, foreshadowing eerily

We were up early the next morning to see the sunrise from a vantage point at the edge of camp. Mike had one last piece of business with us, the Wilderness Pledge. With the pledge read and signed, we were ready to set off on our own. Mike took the damaged rain fly and bag of puke dirt (that he intended to pass off as spilled soup) with him so we would be unencumbered by the burdens from the past days’ challenges.

Our destination today would be the first staffed camp on our itinerary. Miners Park camp offers various activities including rock climbing. Given our track record to date, maybe we should have been a bit concerned. But we were glad to have another relatively easy day on the trail and some new challenges that were somewhat more relaxing.

Really, it was all about the rock climbing. Once we were all set up, we (minus Ron) went over to the climbing location about 30 minutes away from camp. The instruction was fairly basic. We weren’t allowed to tie our own knots, even if we (mainly Joe) knew how. It was a top belay system, so the rope would be dropped down to us. If the belayer yelled “rope” or “rock,’ we weren’t supposed to look up under any circumstances. They would test us by shouting “rope” and then waiting a while before dropping the rope. Good way to establish trust…

This was my first time climbing on belay. Aside from some impromptu bouldering (a term I wasn’t even familiar with at the time) with Sean on Iona Island at a spring camporee a couple of years earlier, I had never done any sort of rock climbing. So when they split everyone into two groups, one on the easier route and one on the harder route, I got the harder side. Fine with me, hopefully I won’t regret it…

Joe did his best to inspire us with his motto “Crush your limits.” It’s a nice thought, but it’s a bit, um, limited in utility. I was the last to climb, with the clouds rolling in and people already heading back to camp. By the time I was on the rock, the spectators were mainly just Joe and the staff. At least I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much.

The route was a bit tricky. There was a slight overhang that sloped down left to right as the footing underneath rose from left to right. Everything was most secure on the left, where the overhang was too high to reach. The overhang was close to the footing on the right end, but there weren’t any good holds. But there was a good size bucket in the overhang near the middle, just within reach. So I grabbed it and pulled.

Everyone watching thought I was going to pull myself up. Surely, that would have been an impressive feat. And in the fictionalized version of this story, that’s exactly what happens. Clouds roll in, the weather threatens to turn. The staff is about to close things down and I’m almost out of time. With no other options, I will myself straight up and arise triumphant!

But in reality I pulled myself up partway but I couldn’t get a leg up and I had no way to secure myself to get a hand free to get a higher grip. So I lowered myself down and worked my way to the right, eventually making it up that part in less spectacular fashion.

Above that, the rock was frustratingly smooth, narrowing into a notch that the belay line was fed through. Now I was stuck again with the goal in sight. I couldn’t get a grip on anything and the top was out of reach. The notch flared out, making it hard to use the sides. I was so close, but I saw no way through this. And the afternoon shower was minutes away.

Somehow, I made it to the top, much to everyone’s relief (so they could finally get out of there). After rappelling down the jagged face (quite poorly, I’m sure), it was over. Joe and I walked back to camp and I now knew that I needed a lot of work when it came to rock climbing. I would get right on that in, um, a little over 20 years. Better late than never, I guess…

Next: 31 July 1994: Rain and Shine / Day 4: Best laid plans…