Philmont Expedition 727-E1-1994 – 7 August 1994: Everything Falls Apart / Day 11: Finish Line

Everything Falls Apart

The pack I would eventually bring to Philmont got one of its first test runs on a winter campout at Black Rock Forest. The section of pines we camped in was a good hike from the entrance, so this would be the perfect chance to check everything out.

I had gotten a Camp Trails Omega external frame pack the previous fall. It was probably a bit big for me at the time, but I would quickly grow into it. Its first few outings involved little actual hiking and went without incident. This time would be different. All was well at first, but it started moving around a bit too much. Something wasn’t right. Near the end of the hike, it completely came undone. While the pack was connected to the frame with pins, the straps used a seemingly elaborate system of strapping wrapped in various ways for comfort.

But all that was gone now. The rocking motion of the pack had loosened the straps to the point where they no longer held the frame securely. My brand new pack was now useless.

My brother had hiked out with us but wasn’t going to be spending the night. He offered to come back the next day with a toboggan to haul my pack out on. I was a bit embarrassed, but I doubted that I would figure out how to put everything back together that night. So I took his offer and pulled my pack out over the snow the next day.

The investigation was thorough. I needed to know how everything was supposed to go together, why the pack failed on me, and how to prevent it in the future. After a considerable amount of fiddling around with black straps on a black pack with a black frame, I managed to piece it all back together. That process showed me how it came apart. Preventing it though…

The shoulder straps were adjustable. They just didn’t have anything holding them securely in place once adjusted. Movement of the pack would cause the straps to loosen and once they loosened all the way, it was over. Keeping the pack together required only keeping the shoulder straps from coming completely undone. And all you had to do to do that was pull the adjustment straps tight constantly. Simple.

I quickly began to obsessively tighten my shoulder straps. Because I had to. The last thing I wanted was for my pack to fail in the middle of a long hike. And Philmont was longer than most. Now I looked for other things that could fail. Those pins look pretty flimsy. Better have a backup plan… Just like I carried a first aid kit for people, I carried a first aid kit for my pack. And I hoped I would never need it.

Day 11: Finish Line

It all came down to this. We loaded up the burros and hit the trail one last time. It seemed like a short trail, but we had been fooled before. We got an early start and settled in for a long hike.

And we reached Ponil in about two hours. Looks like we could have made that 11am pickup after all…

After saying goodbye to the burros, we headed over to the cantina for lunch and a few celebratory pitchers of root beer. Our trail ended here.

We met up with the Texans afterward at the turnaround. It turned out that they too had opted for the 1pm pickup, so we had some time to wait together for the bus. They preferred to pass the time with some poker.

It wasn’t long though before the rain started to drizzle and the bus arrived to take us back to base camp.

Base camp was a flurry of activity. Gear needed to be cleaned, inspected, and checked back in, lockers needed to be emptied, and we needed to get ready for the closing campfire that night. Dan organized everything and made sure we completed all of our remaining tasks. By the end of the afternoon, everything was where it needed to be and our work was done.

In line for dinner, we began trading our council strips with the Texans. As usual, I had forgotten to bring my extra patches with me to trade. Everyone was just cutting their council strips off of their uniforms anyway. I had concerns about this leaving us technically out of uniform, but nobody seemed to think that would be a problem. So I cut mine off and traded it.

The final order of business before the ceremony was the gift shop. With merchandise you couldn’t get anywhere else, there was no need to hold back. Anything you might want at some point in the future you would have to buy now (or you could try to figure out how to mail order it, as the web was still in its infancy and online ordering did not yet exist). I had a lot on my shopping list. A map was obviously a must. Can’t tell where you’ve been without a map. And you definitely need the plastic holder for the patch that would be issued at the ceremony. Neckerchief slides? Sure, one of each. Maybe two. Patches and pins? Whatever they’ve got. And the leather belt to top it off.

The belt was the big one. I always hated the green Scout belt and its infuriating buckle. I envied my brother’s Philmont belt with 1985 Jamboree buckle. It somehow counted as an acceptable replacement for the standard belt, so I couldn’t wait to get one. And here it was. I bought a buckle at the 1993 Jamboree the year before, not knowing when or if I would ever get a belt to use it with. Everything was coming together.

The last piece was somewhat bittersweet. The Philmont felt bull traditionally adorns the red felt Scout jacket of anyone who has been to Philmont. Placed on the front of the left shoulder, it is tradition that anyone who has hiked the Tooth of Time can put the tail of the bull over the jacket’s shoulder seam. We came so close… Mine has the tail right up against the seam, as close as it can get without going over.

Night fell and we all assembled in a field just outside base camp. The air grew almost uncomfortably cold. One by one, those of us who had finished our treks that day were presented with the Philmont arrowhead patch.

Next: 8 August 1994: Have Canoe, Will Paddle / Day +1: Along for the Ride