Eighth grade not only held changes in relationships, school, perceptions, and physical development. There was one major change that would include nature herself and become a guiding force in my life. Dad's forcing me to remain in Scouts for another year opened up many doors.

Dave Berry, the Assistant Scoutmaster, guide and survival school instructor; who was considered to be the coolest of the adult leaders, made only occasional visits to troop meetings and camping trips. His main camping abode was a simple nylon tarp, but it wasn't unusual to see him string up a hammock. When the tent came out, look out, the weather was going to be a blast!

Tall, muscular and bearded, he had that classic mountaineer's look and his skills were beyond compare. I tried to learn as much from him as I could.

All of the boys looked up to him, not only in admiration, but in the hopes that he would invite you on one of his trips. Myself, I had a sort of nervous anticipation and trepidation; hoping somehow that he would see something in me and invite me on one of his trips. Yet, I understood that may not come about. With how the older Scouts felt about the trips they went on with him, one realized it was also a sort of coming of age rite, in itself. Usually he brought at least two women along and the older guys really liked that.

Tim's father, Mr. Mel went on one of them and was much more stoic about his travels with Dave. "Well, I tell you what; he makes sure to get your adventure in. We went caving with him and despite the horribly muddy experience, he made sure that all enjoyed it. He does have much skill in the wilderness and with exploration."

I mentioned the girls and asked what Mr. Mel thought, and he laughed, replying, "Well, they do add a certain element to the camping." Dave also provided a great balance to the other adults; most were fathers along for the ride and went to the average Scout for assistance. Many old Scouters had remained in the troop, long after their sons had left.

One named Mr. Brandon, refused to talk to any Scouts outside of the Senior Patrol, with the exception of, "You really did that one right, stupid. Hey, you're a real idiot, aren't you? It's obvious you a mama's boy." What was strange to me was as soon as I hit the Senior Patrol, Mr. Brandon became an instant best friend and shared many WWII stories.

In mid winter, Dave finally walked up to me and invited me on one of his winter trips. Dad gave grudging permission to attend, which took a lot of sweet talking and lobbying with Mom. The adventure started immediately, as camp was determined by going up and down the mountains of Garrett County, MD until we got stuck on one of them, then slid down to make camp.

The camp was very rugged and picturesque, having a latrine and stream with a bridge going over it. The two attending women had a small Eureka Timberline tent, while all the guys slept out under a tarp. The other boys were told to pack me in as I didn't really have the right equipment. It was a very cold and uncomfortable sleep.

After breakfast, Dave took me up the mountain with our cross country skies, so we could ski down it. It was a climb-in-a-half and Dave told me that we had to help each other out to get to the top. Once there, I started shivering and Dave said I needed help to stop shivering and he put my hands under his arms to warm me up. I wasn't very happy about this, but it did the trick
.
Dave told me, "You know, you are a bit too young and don't have the right equipment for a trip like this, I could have helped you out with that, but I wanted you to experience the bite of the winter mountain. " I asked him why he wanted me to come and he responded, "Pretty soon I am moving out of state and won't be in the troop much longer and wanted to make sure you had an experience like this."

It was time to go down the mountain and right off the bat, we realized there was a problem, because my right ski binding was defective. With cross country skis, you're secured by the toe, while the back of the foot is allowed to life out of the pins. You have to lift your skis to adjust and the toe would pop off. Being off balance I would wipe out.

I did better with balancing on one ski, but both of us tended to use trees to adjust our speed; and we both found that modified downhill bush whack skiing was comical, fun and dangerously thrilling. Once we made it back to camp, Dave took his other male friend and most of the older boys telemarking; leaving me behind with the women. Needless to say, with sitting around I got cold again and started shivering.

One of the women was waiting around for the other to finish using the latrine, saw me shivering and immediately slipped my hands under her armpits. You know, it wasn't half bad this time and the woman couldn't understand how I was remaining cold as it should have been enough time to warm me up. But when her friend came out of the latrine, she left me because, "Duty calls."

I started shivering again and the other noticed and decided to help me out, once again by putting my hands under her arms. Then she made an observation, "Your hands are awfully warm for a person appearing to be so cold."

Not wanting to get caught red handed or to get in trouble, I tried to cover myself by saying, "It's not my hands, but the rest of me that's cold."

She pulled my hands out of her coat and with a shrill response of, "Oh, you little devil! You're much too young to be coming up with lines like that!" Dave and his crew came back from their side trip and when the other woman came out of the latrine, the second woman pointed to me, as she told her, "Watch out for this one! He'll sweet talk himself into your sack tonight!" The girls, Dave and his friend laughed.

Another great activity was using the sleds and taking the fifteen minute trek up the mountain road with us.  Sledding down the road was a several minute thrill.  Us kids, lived life on the assumption that God protects fools and children.

That wasn't the case with Dave and his friend, both of those guys got stuck under the car at the bottom of the hill and Dave did a trip that had a specular accident. At the last second, the sled veered off of the bridge and onto the ice in the stream ten feet below.  You saw Dave and the runners of the squashed sled.  After that, sledding down hills no longer held the fun for me it used to.

That evening, we had an all out spaghetti dinner; including Dutch oven garlic bread. One of the boys asked Dave, "What is the round pasta in with the sauce?"

Just as if at a family table, Dave replied, "Wood grubs, I like their scrimpy taste." He was right, provided you de-shell the shrimp, and marinate them in sawdust over night. Dave was very happy that I made it through the trip fine, but it was one of those trips that would take a week or two to recover from. Dad had honestly hoped that this would cure me for my adventure seeking habits.


Troop 112 was chartered with Saint John's Lutheran Church. Troop 26, was essentially located next door in one of the buildings of Saint Ursula's Church. A Scoutmaster from there that preferred the name Tex, stopped by and gave a presentation of the Philmont Experience, as he was trying to get up a crew to go there with the Baltimore Area Council contingent.

He explained what Philmont was and where it was located, what the crews were all about, as well as the trips. It sounded like a once in a lifetime, must do. I signed on and got the information including the pricing schedule to pay off the $750.00 price tag. Dad wasn't happy and said there is no way that he would pay for it, and demanded I use my bank account.

Along with myself was my Patrol Leader, Vern, Timmy, John, Steve and a scout named Norman. We all met the age, rank and health limits. Philmont is one of Boy Scouts finest high adventure bases that encompasses 215 square miles of rugged New Mexico; originally a very generous donation from the Philips Petroleum estate, to their local area council who turned it into a high adventure base and training center for Scouts.

Tex held a few meetings so that our crew could decide on the trip itinerary our crew wanted to take. That was simple! You basically go into Philmont's base camp, get assigned a ranger, then you food and from there, you are taken by bus to your start point.

Then you head out into the back county and backpack from one camp to the other for the next ten days. Each camp holds something different based on adventure, or the areas past history. You have camps dedicated to high powered rifle shooting, rock climbing, mining, timber cutting, trapping and black powder shooting or ranching.

In doing this and climbing Mount Baldy, or going over the Tooth of Time, and surviving a night at a dry camp; your received the famed Philmont badge. It was a simple decision, we wanted to do everything and picked the super strenuous itinerary and even modified that for a total trip of 125 miles, a tall but willing order for this group of boys.

Tex also had a couple of extra camping trips so we all would learn to camp as a crew, learn the Philmont methods of setting up bear bags and cooking as well as try out the food that Philmont supplied; which was either a fancy form of hardtack or dehydrated.

We were flying out with several hundred other boys from our council to Colorado Springs Airport. Norm almost missed it as he had to be brought to BWI airport from the hospital since his attempt at making a fire starter blew up in his face.

Once we landed, we boarded tour busses that took us to the Air Force Academy, Pikes Peak, The Royal Gorge Bridge and the Koshare Indian Museum in La Junta Colorado. Actually a structure based on the Kava, which is made up of logs that are put together forming an elegant roof.
The Koshare Dancers are actually Boy Scout members who performed a variety of Native and South American dances, combined with the huge council drum, the show also made for a spiritual experience.

Then we were taken directly to Philmont's base camp, which was a tent city of staggering proportions our assigned ranger lead us around like a bull. There were our crew photos, medical reevaluations, opening camp fire. The next morning, there was breakfast, getting supplied and stowing our unnecessary gear, then the shakedown and figuring out how to pack it all up.

Our trip was no joke and once at our first camp, it was the midnight climb that would take us from 9,449 feet all the way to 12,441 feet in altitude. Baltimore is essentially located at sea level. We really didn't need much, so only had a few packs to carry the extra cloths, emergency sleeping bag and our dry breakfasts along with a little water. After carrying the packs for a while, we would then switch off; one really felt the altitude when it was there turn to pack it.

There was its humor, as a crew member came running by us with the cry of, "Tetrox Trots!." He forgot to neutralize the Tetrox soap with the HTH pool chlorine in the rinse water, which gave you bad diarrhea. His plight was funny, until we turned up the part of the switch back that he had to do his business past. We finally made it and just hunkered down in the depressions made in the talus by previous groups, used for shelters.

Once cannot adequately describe the majesty of seeing a sunrise at that altitude. The colors and their effects were absolutely incredible. I found this view mind bogglingly expansive. In a sense, you feel that you are the greatest person in this world and yet, in just looking around, you feel truly small and ant-like . I found a lone plant that had an uniquely shaped fluorescent hot pink flower, on nothing but the rocky talus.  It became a symbol for me.

We then made it down to Dan Beard camp, where there were blacksmithing and mining activities. Then the next camp, up and down, as thousand foot climbs became easier. One camp has a crater lake, and we did timber and railroad tie cutting, plus pole climbing. Other camps provided rock climbing, trapping and shooting, as well trying your hand at cattle rustling.

Poniel was one of Philmont's cattle ranches, the staff put our crew together and from the ranger's porch, threw Oreo cookies in the air and watched us fight for them; dehydrated food has that effect. Notice I didn't say freeze dried like the use with present day camping. It seemed that all of the food tasted the same.

There we tried practicing cowboy skills and took off on a horse trek. I was told all the horses were old and mainly line horses; I had my usual horse luck and had one that couldn't keep their nose out of the next horses business and got kicked for it. Next thing you know, my horse bolted away with the cowboys telling me to get it under control when I was trying to stay on the beast. My horse finally stopped after fording a muddy stream and jumping and then fell back in line when it found its position.

One of the backcountry rangers liked us and took us to the rocks to see the Indian pictographs that were carved on the walls, plus the holes the cowboys put in a couple with their guns as they passed by the spot in the old days. There was also some sweet relief and good fresh meat as we made our way to the chuck wagon to cook our beef stew meal and a trip to the cantina for root beer.

Without TV or radio, one finds that nature provides for entertainment. Steve was Norman's tent partner and decided to get pissed and threw his tent off the mountain, yelling, "I'm not carrying you damned tent anymore!" Luckily Norman only had to walk to the switchback below to get it and added it to his already overly burdened backpack.

Norman was the biggest brute and carried the most, I fell in the middle and did ok with my burdens, while Steve was the smallest of the lot. The entertainment continued that evening when Norman told Steve; "If you can't carry the tent, then you're not sleeping in it." Steve made a tarp out of his rain poncho.

Another camp was Clear Creek; the trapping and black powder range and ranger greeted us, dressed as a trapper, wearing his skins. Timmy greeted him with, "Hey! You look like Dan Haggarty."

The ranger walked up to him and as we all saw, but not Timmy, put a skinning knife as large as a grown man's hand to his crotch and said, "What did you just say?"

"You look like Dan Haggarty."

A little pressure got to the point and was reinforced by Tim looking down and seeing that knife, "You see, I hate that man for that guy gives us mountain men the reputation that we're nice. We're not. What you feel is my Scroat-slitter and you know why it's out?"

"No?"

"Because I need a new tobacco bag, the one I got from the last boy that called me him is wearing out."

He then did his camp talk and when it was thought he was just out of earshot, Vern yelled, "See you! Dan Haggardy."

The ranger started running back to us and Vern took off running, followed by the mountain man chasing him down saying, "He's mine." A short time later, Vern was brought back wearing his shirt as pants and his shorts around his neck.

Every day was filled with things like that, plus our camp prattling, carrying on and even a rattle snake the mighty hunters brought back. Philmont is a natural area and hunting is prohibited, but depending on the camp Rattlesnakes are either off limits, or fair game, as they are dangerously plentiful.

It's strange, our trip was arduous and took a lot out of you, you also got enough dealings with everyone and start craving all of the food that you miss. In one respect, you start looking forward to going home, yet realize that nature has become such a part of your psyche; you don't really want to leave it behind.

The last leg of our trip was walking down to base camp coming off of the Tooth Of Time ridge, myself, I was both happy and very sad to leave all of this behind. Norm was preoccupied with telling everyone to stay out of his way. Within a mile, Norms knee gave out and it was amazing to see, it is humanly possible to do a complete forward roll in a backpack about as large as you.

When I returned, my Dad looked at my lanky muscles and said, "Damn Mike, this Philmont was no joke." Not only were the memories burned in my mind as if they happened yesterday, they have carried me through numerous really bad times, and sowed the seeds of desire to get as much adventure in my life as I can.