Philmont Part 4 - Performing

 Friday, July 26, 2019


Everybody was pretty tired from the long hike up Mt. Baldy the day before.  The scouts had decided that the reward would be to cook the breakfast skillet Mountain House for breakfast.  We weren't in any specific rush, but we couldn't wait all day as Wetwipe, Crack, and Flower Child would be departing today.  They had a 6 PM flight to make out of Denver.  They would hitch a ride from Pueblano Staff Camp back to basecamp.  In order for them to catch their ride, we had to make the 4.5 mile journey by noon.

Everybody seemed to be moving in slow motion this morning.  Breakfast and packing up should  have taken only an hour, or even two at an unhurried pace.  We accomplished it in three hours.  I urged the scouts to pick up the pace.  But, once again, I was met with mocking by Frodo who was content to take his sweet time.  We were finally hitting the trail a little after 9 AM.

We first had to climb out of the valley and up the side of a ridge.  It offered a great view of the lands down below.

Unfortunately, we lost the trail a few times and weren't making as much progress as we had hoped.  Wetwipe, who's superpower is the ability to remain calm during all our crew's bickering, started to get a little antsy that he and his son would miss their flight.

We arrived at Ewells Park Trail Camp, and made a decision to shave off a couple minutes of our hike by cutting through a large meadow.

From there, the path wound through a forest of white aspen trees before opening to flat land with meadows of yellow wildflowers.

Now with a sense of urgency, we were marching as fast as we could go.  At our frantic pace, we soon reached Pueblano Ruins Trail Camp.

We followed the South Ponil Creek for a little over a mile until we finally reached Pueblano Staff Camp.  It was 11:45 AM, we had made it with a few minutes to spare.  We didn't have much time to say our goodbyes to Wetwipe, Crack, and Flower Child. They were whisked away in a Philmont SUV and our bloated crew of 14 members was now down to 11.

With Crack gone, the first order of business was for the scouts to vote for a new crew leader.  Having never had a chance to hold a direct leadership position before, Mini-Bear eagerly wanted the position.  He had spent the morning hike carrying egregious amounts of crew gear just to prove to his peers that he was capable of pulling his weight.  The boys went ahead and elected him for the position.   After all, it was his birthday as he was turning 14, likely making him one of the youngest scouts to attend Philmont that summer.  Since he was inexperienced, we asked his peers to step up and help him out.

After a quick lunch of crackers and cheese wedges, pepperoni sticks, peanut butter Honey Stinger bar, and nutter Butters, we checked in at the staff cabin.  Many of our crew had been looking forward to our program for the day, spar climbing.  In the early 20th century, Pueblano had been the northern base for the Continental Tie and Lumber company.  Loggers would climb up tall trees, use dynamite to blow up their unusable tops, and then scurry down before their partners finished felling the tree.  Over three decades, Theodore Schomberg's company  had cut down almost every large tree in this region before the industry collapsed in 1937.  Fortunately, in the 80 year interval, the forest has recuperated.

For our activity, we would don climbing harnesses and specialized spikes placed around our boots to help us scale a large tree trunk.  Our safety line would be "the donkey," another crew member who would belay using a specialized winch.

"Hee-haw"

All the scouts did a great job of climbing the pole.  It was difficult learning how to use the spikes to hoist yourself up.  It was tempting to use your upper body and the waist belt to pull yourself up.  However, the technique was mainly in the legs.

Starfish made it to the top of the pole but he was genuinely worried that it wouldn't hold his weight as it swayed more and more the higher he climbed.  I had a go at it but made it only about two-thirds of the way up before I started hyperventilating again.  My body was still fighting the altitude sickness as we were still above 8,000 feet.  The rest of the adults passed on the opportunity lest they "use up all of their strategic reserves."

Afterwards we received our campsite assignment.  We were the first troop to check in that day, so we were given the farthest campsite.  That suited us just fine as it was the most secluded.  The trail to get to our site passed through all of the closer sites giving them less privacy.  Our camp site had plenty of trees for shade, flat ground for our tents, a babbling brook nearby where we could purify water, and a red roof inn and bear cable only a minute's walk away.  Essentially, it was the perfect site.

"Pilot/co-pilot" toilets were more commonly used in the past, and completely exposed to nature.

Red roof inns with single, partitioned toilets are now the standard because of YPT concerns.

Our scouts demonstrate bear bag hanging to a new crew on their first day in country.

We essentially had several hours in the afternoon to set up our camp and relax.  The scouts spent much of the time boasting to each other about their past and current girlfriends--some real, some imaginary.

The scouts discuss whether any of them had ever received "Cheez-its" from a girl.

Dinner that night was macaroni and cheese, Cajun trail mix, cheddar cheese bread pieces, and Chips Ahoy cookies.  We had so much pasta, that even The Sump couldn't polish it all off.  Fortunately, we wouldn't have to pack out any of our leftovers as we could simply discard our trash back at the Pueblano Staff Cabin.

There was evening program that night that was held at a small outdoor theater.  They could not have picked a more beautiful venue--tall green trees surrounding us and a clear night sky above us.  The entertainment started off with jokes and lively music before turning more serious and somber.  Since the camp was supposed to be set in 1918, the songs reflected the sadness of the Great War and the destruction that the Continental Tie and Lumbar Company had heaped on this land.

The Pueblano staff were nice enough to bring Mini-bear onstage and sing "Ok-Birthday" to him.

During our reflections later that night, we all agreed that this was one of the best days that we had.  For most of us, Pueblano would end up being our favorite camp of the trek.


Saturday, July 27, 2019


We woke up to a breakfast of turkey jerky, maple and brown sugar oatmeal, cashew cookie bars, strawberry Pop Tarts, and the swap box-worthy banana chips.  Our trek this morning would take us off of Philmont territory until we reached Rich Cabins Staff Camp which is located five miles away on Vermejo Ranch owned by multimedia magnate Ted Turner.  Our map showed several streams and a lake where we could refill our bottles with purified water, so we hiked light with a liter a piece.

The hike stated with an ascent of 600 feet up a rocky trail.

Once at the top of the bluff, we hiked a little further until we reached Wilson Mesa which is located in the Elliott Barker State Wildlife Area.  It was truly one of the most beautiful landscapes that we would see on our entire trek.  It was worthy of a "packs off" stop just to sit in the shade and admire the view.

The hike continued along past forests filled with large swathes of fallen trees.

Eventually, the trail descended until we reached a road that followed the Middle Ponil Creek.  We hiked along the unshaded road for several miles, all the while roasting from the direct sunlight.

Most of us were wishing that we had brought more water with us, but we finally reached Rich Cabins before things got dire.  Within the campgrounds, we had to traverse two small streams until we reached the farmhouse.

By then, we were all hot, sweaty, and really thirsty.  However, the screened in porch for the cabin let in the perfect amount of breeze, so we were able to cool off rapidly.

Ironically, Piano Man didn't know how to play Billy Joel's Piano Man.

Since Rich Cabins only gets a couple of crews daily, their swap box was tiny.

Since Rich Cabins is a commissary camp where we would receive our third and last food resupply, we were offered fruit and some chocolate milk.

The staff at Rich Cabin spent much of the morning sorting the new shipment of crew food supplies.

Our program for the day included a tour of the cabin.  The Rich family emigrated from Lienz, Austria during the 1880's.  They settled in this region because of the allure that all the siblings of this large Catholic family could own large amounts of farmland.  For thirty years, these homesteaders worked this land until they sold it to the Chase Ranch in 1916.

The staff members lived inside the cabin, sleeping on these rope beds.

The most interesting artifact in the cabin is this extremely long table made from solid, sturdy wood.

After the tour, we backtracked past the two streams until we reached the "more-shaded" of the two campsites that we could use.  This large meadow with a few solitary trees had only a small iota of shade to shield us from the fierce sun.  Our tents had to be erected out in the middle of the field, fully exposed to the elements.

As we sat in the limited shade eating our lunch of club crackers, packaged ham chunks, overrated Grandma's peanut butter cookies, and swap-box worthy sunflower seeds, we noticed a wave of clouds moving in.  Our elation at the prospect of shade turned to terror as rain and lightning started coming towards us.  The vast majority of our crew hightailed it back to the staff cabin before the clouds reached us.  Once we heard the lightning only a mile or two away, Cranberry and his son ran into the edge of the woods and assumed the "lightning position."  Starfish and I laughed and just stayed put in our camp chairs.  There was no way we were going to get hit by lightning.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck a tree on the ridge a few hundred yards directly across from us.  I could hear and feel the boom which made the hairs on my arm stand up.  Seconds later, Starfish and I found ourselves at the edge of the woods in the lightning position.

The rest of the afternoon was littered with sporadic rainstorms.  Despite having plenty of room underneath the dining fly, the cooking crew kicked out everybody else.  The remaining boys retreated to a copse of trees up a muddy hill to seek shelter from the rain.  They only succeeded in covering themselves in mud in addition to being wet.  The crew went from being hot, sweaty, and miserable to cold, wet, and miserable.

At least the constant barrage of rain produced more double rainbows.

After a dinner of re-hydrated chicken and rice, hot buffalo wings, bread pieces, honey-roasted peanuts, and pseudo Rice-Krispie bars, the advisers headed up to the staff cabin porch for some coffee, tea, and cookies.  The scouts also had the option to help out with farm chores, i.e. feeding the cows, pigs, chickens, and burro.  One other crew showed up at the allotted 7 PM time slot.  Ours did not show up until about 7:30 PM and that was mainly to fill their bottles with potable water at the pump.

An evening program of live music and story-telling on the porch was planned for 8 PM, but half of the scouts opted to skip it.  They were in no mood for entertainment and went back to the campsite to turn in for the night.

The performance was not as good as that of Pueblano's.  The music was definitely more upbeat, but so were the staff.  They were bouncing around, giggling at the slightest remarks, and whispering and laughing with one another during their performance.  We were certain that there was some chemical explanation for their giddiness.  Perhaps there was a secret stash of hooch or hemp out back inside their barn.

At the start of the performance, the last expected crew for the night arrived at the staff cabin.  They were soaking wet, having been caught in the earlier rainstorms.  They looked exhausted and miserable.  They elected to stay and watch the performance, but half of their scouts nodded off during the show.  When the program ended at 9 PM, they still had to set up their campsite and make their dinner.  We passed on some encouraging words to them, as we knew exactly how they felt having been in a similar situation just a few days before.


Sunday, July 28, 2019


It was impossible to sleep in at Rich Cabins.  With little shade, the sun was on top of us by early morning.  Since we would have a short hike of only 3 miles ahead of us, we decided to eat one of our later breakfasts of Mountain House biscuits and gravy, saving our non-cooking meals for a busier day.  We dumped the unwanted banana chips into the Rich Cabins swap box.

We broke down our campsite and readied ourselves for the hike.  Our tents were still soaking wet, adding a little extra weight to our packs.  This would be the shortest hiking day of our trek, so we thought it was going to be a piece of cake.  However, the first two miles were essentially uphill without little shade or breeze.  Some areas of the trail were also still slippery with mud from the rain showers the day before.

We had underestimated the steepness of the trail.  There's a reason the hike was only 3 miles long.

A view of the valley below including the sunny road that led into Rich Cabins.

The more we hiked, the smaller and smaller Mt. Baldy got.

When we finally made it to the top of the last bluff, we were met by a strong refreshing wind.  The last mile was simply a downward hike into the Dan Beard Staff Camp.

A barbed-wire fence separates Philmont property behind us from Carson National Forest.

Our program for the day would be COPE (Challenging Outdoor Personal Experience).  The boys would have to work together to finish certain tasks.  This would help develop teamwork, trust, leadership, and communication between our scouts.  Before we started the activity, we laid out our wet clothes and tents to dry.  We also had a quick lunch of crackers, turkey and Swiss cheese Combos, and dark chocolate almond crunch coconut bars.  Most people dumped their Corn Nuts and gross Sunbutter into the swap box.

The first COPE task for the boys was to lower a hula-hoop from above their heads making sure nobody stops touching it with two fingers.  This simple activity was remarkable difficult for our group of dysfunctional scouts.  It was frankly hard to watch them flounder at this simple task.  Fortunately, the boys possessed the bare minimum amount of camaraderie to get the job done.

This task was even harder for Mini-Bear as he couldn't even touch the hula-hoop at the start.

Next, the instructor blindfolded several of them.  The ones that could still see were tasked with escorting the others to the next activity area.

The blind lead the blind.

Instead of leading Mini-Bear, Dexter elected to give him a piggy-back ride to the next station.

The exercise was a disaster as Piano Man stumbled into a shallow ditch while The Guia simply stood next to him and watched.  In addition, Inferno got pissed off when The Sump led him directly into the side of a barn wall.  The little trust that these boys had in their fellow scouts was completely shattered.

For the next activity, the scouts were huddled together on a platform, some still being blindfolded.  They were tasked with reaching a similar platform fifteen feet away without touching the ground.  A rope hung between the two platforms which they would need to use to swing across.  They weren't allowed to take their shirt or pants off, but everything else was game.

For the longest time, the scouts argued with and talked over each other as they tried to figure out how to get the rope.  Nobody took charge to come up with a plan.  In a compulsive act of stupidity and frustration, a few scouts threw their water bottles at the rope.  Inferno even took his blindfold off and walked off, refusing to participate anymore.  After an eternity, the scouts used two of their belts tied together to pull the rope towards them.  Then they were finally able to all swing across.

In the final challenge, the blindfolded scouts were tasked with navigating an obstacle course made up of ropes which they could not touch.  The remaining scouts who could see were not allowed to talk.  They could only make the noises of their spirit animal.  This was the only challenge that the scouts actually performed decently, probably because they were able to speak in their native animal tongues.

The Boy grunts like no snail that I have ever heard before.

Overall, the COPE course demonstrated the obvious fact that our scouts can't even spell the words "teamwork, leadership, and trust."  And they are also morons.

Afterwards, we were assigned a campsite which was high on a ridge overlooking the COPE courses below.  The ground was sloped making it difficult to find a good site to pitch our tents.  Additionally, all the trees had been cut down leading to no shade from the direct sun.

A view of our campsite atop a treeless hill.

A "pilot/bombardier" toilet was close to our campsite.  I preferred to hike a little farther to a red roof inn.

It was too hot on that ridge, so many of us gathered our laundry and walked back down to the main staff cabin.  They had some washing bins and scrubbing boards so I washed some socks and underwear for the last time on the trail.  Everything dried out pretty quickly as there was good sun and wind at the camp.  For the rest of the afternoon, the four of us adult advisers just lounged on the swing on the porch of the staff cabin shooting the bull with anybody who had the misfortune to speak with us.

Some typical scout humor.  The toast stamps also are an homage to the camp's nickname of "Dan Bread"

Scouts are awarded pudding cups if they can break the weekly pull-up record.  Dexter would break 
the record by one rep to get one pudding.  Then he would repeat the process again to get a second one.

Dexter also made a homemade "tattoo" using the Dan Beard toast stamp.

Once the harsh sun was starting to go down, we made our way back up to the campsite and enjoyed a dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce, pepperoni pizza crackers, and Oreos.  As we were finishing our cleanup, storm clouds began heading our way.  We could see bolts of lightning in the distance coming closer and closer.  We looked around and realized that the tallest things on that ridge were us, so our entire crew hightailed it back down to the staff cabin just in time to avoid a strong downpour.

I saw more double rainbows in a few days at Philmont than I had seen my entire life.

Once the storms passed, the advisers stuck around for coffee and cookies, while Dexter, The Guia, Mini-Bear, and The Boy participated in a game of ultimate Frisbee with kids from other troops.

Cranberry and I knew that we would have a long hike ahead of us the next day, so we decided to turn in early.  The scouts were insistent on staying up and building a fire, even though most of the wood was soaked.  They persevered and got a pretty good bonfire going.  Around the fire, they performed a long devotional, completing the last requirements for the Philmont "God and Country" Award.

The Sump pounds a wet log with rocks to reveal the dry wood on the inside.

Monday, July 29, 2019


We had an early 6 AM wake up time as we would have one of the longest hikes of our trek.  Not only would we have to walk 8.5 miles, but we would also have multiple programs on our itinerary.  In less than an hour, we were tackling a steep muddy hill that led out of Dan Beard and into Cook Canyon.

When we reached the top, we made a wrong turn and ended up hiking in the opposite direction for 15-20 minutes.  After discovering our mistake, we had to backtrack thus wasting precious time.  After about an hour into our hike, we stopped for a breakfast of chocolate hazelnut butter, honey peppered turkey sticks, Fig Newtons, and coveted strawberry Honey Stinger waffles.

Our wrong turn provided us with our last good vantage point of Mt. Baldy. 

We walked at a very brisk pace passing Cook Canyon Trail Camp in no time.

We were glad that our itinerary didn't call for a stay at Cook Canyon.  Yuck!

Shortly after, The Sump's pace started to lag and our line stretched out farther and farther.  It was time for us to take another break.

During this hiatus, The Boy and The Sump started talking about video games that they both play.  When we resumed our hike, they continued to be engrossed in their conversation.  I could not help but notice how The Sump's pace suddenly quickened as he was able to keep up with The Boy at the head of the line.  Miraculously he was able to continue that speed for the rest of the day.

Eventually, we reached the borders of the Metcalf Station Staff Camp.  During the early 20th century, the Cimarron and Northwestern Railway Company (an offshoot of the Continental Tie and Lumber Company) ran tracks through Metcalf Station on the way to transport timber from the forests.  The metal tracks were eventually removed when the company was dissolved as they were still valuable assets.

Metcalf Station's staff cabin and "museum."

The swap boxes at Metcalf did not contain any explosive items.  Just crappy trail mixes.

The "museum" had a few railroading artifacts of days of yore.

We stopped there to eat our lunch which consisted of Ritz crackers, packaged tuna, pink lemonade energy chews, and both sunflower seed and fruit and nut trail mixes.  Afterwards, it was time for the first of our programs for the day--railroading.  The scouts donned protective gear of hardhats, eye glasses, and work gloves.  They were then given a tutorial on the railway equipment and shown how to assemble railroad ties.

There was a large amount of track laid by Philmont crews over the past five years.  The initial plan was to build the railroad all the way to Indian Writings.  However, that idea was eventually scrapped, and now the tracks were heading towards Dan Beard.  In a few years, that plan will be sure to change.

After laying down a few railway ties, our crew was rewarded with a ride on the pump car.  With four people at a time, we powered the car several hundred yards down the track, and then brought it back.  The pumping was actually pretty tiring, leaving several of us winded.  But it sure was fun.

We donned our packs and resumed our hike towards Indian Writings.  We would be following a road with very little shade.  However, today would be our lucky day as the clouds finally blocked the sun without dumping any rain onto us.

As we neared an area where the trail bisects a small stream, I heard a shrill, high-pitched scream coming from our crew members up ahead.  Was that a damsel in distress?  I raced up to the front of the line and found out that Starfish had shrieked in terror having seen a little water snake in the stream.  It didn't look poisonous and it was minding its own business.  We decided to give it a wide berth and continue on our way.

A few miles later, we arrived at our final destination of Indian Writings.  We had passed through here just a week before, right as our trek started falling apart.  I glanced over at the cliff wall that had almost did me in.  I felt dizzy just looking at it.

The camp staffers remained water-obsessed.  They made two of our boys down a liter of their foul, sulfur-tasting water before letting them proceed to our atlatl-throwing program.  This primitive weapon is composed of a 7 foot dart (essentially a spear) and a club that holds it in place.  Hunters would launch the dart at their target to disable it.  They then would rush over to their prey and club it to death.  Although we got a tutorial on how to throw the atlatl's, we still found it very difficult.  Each one of us got six throws and Starfish was the only one to score a hit--a flesh wound to the velociraptor.

After failing miserably at hunting for our dinner, we set up our camp at the base of a steep cliff.  The staff had warned us that the whole campsite is in a flood plain.  In 2015, a young scout had tragically drowned in his tent at Indian Writings during a flash flood.  If we heard warning sirens, we were to sprint to higher ground.

There was no dearth of flat grassy land for our tents at Indian Writings.

From the safety of their high rock,
Dexter and The Guia scan the valley
for any signs of flash flooding.

For dinner, our cooks prepared southwestern-style rice and beef accompanied by soft batch cookies and quickly-discarded peanuts.  At 7 PM, the other adult advisers and I relaxed back at the staff cabin porch with coffee and cookies.  There was a guided sunset petroglyph tour, but Frodo and Piano Man were the only ones from our crew who attended.  On our way back to camp, we noticed that the swap box was packed with hot chocolate mix that nobody wanted.  We brought it all back for the scouts to enjoy.

The Ark of the Covenant swap box at Indian Writings had its version of the Ten Commandments.

While we were gone, several of them had decided to climb up the cliff wall and got a good view of the surrounding area.  They decided to hike up there first thing in the morning to see the sunrise.

Since it was our final evening on the trail, we had a nice campfire.  We had one last good religious devotion and a long pensive "roses, thorns, and buds."  After the remainder of the crew turned in for the night, The Boy and I sat around the campfire for a little while longer, enjoying the last moments of our journey in silence.


Tuesday, July 30, 2019


We had reached day 12 of our Philmont journey.  We had made it and would be extracted from Six Mile Gate at 11 AM.  At this stage of our trek, a four mile hike on level terrain was a piece of cake.  We would have no problems making it there in time.  Nevertheless, we also wanted to make sure that we had plenty of cushion.  The last thing that any of us wanted was to miss our shuttle bus.

Surprisingly, most of the scouts did indeed climb the cliff wall very early in the morning to catch the sunrise.  Unfortunately, it was obliterated by cloud cover.  They did find the skeletons of two bears on the ridge which was somewhat alarming.  The night before, we had done a lousy job with our bear precautions thinking that there was no way there would be any of them around us.

Everybody was back down to camp by 7 AM.  We had our last breakfast of maple-flavored turkey sausage breakfast links, dried fruit box, fruit and nut trail mix bar, and throw-away brown sugar honey oat granola.  We packed up our tents and were on the trail in record time.

We hiked past a couple of mule deer who were not alarmed by our presence.

We did make a small diversion to see the only authenticated T-Rex dinosaur track in the world.  The palpable excitement that some people had was transformed into utter disappointment as it just looked like an ugly rock.

Coprolite or a dinosaur footprint?

We arrived at Six Mile Gate at 10 AM.  Over the next hour we sat in the shade watching buses drop off brand new crews.  Soon enough, we recognized one face.  It was our old ranger Neidermeyer.  I think he was genuinely surprised that we had made it.  We thanked him for his guidance at the beginning of our trek and watched him instruct his new crew of wide-eyed rookies.  It was reminiscent of one of the last scenes in An Officer and a Gentleman where Richard Gere's newly graduated character watches all the new recruits getting grilled by his old drill sergeant.

A crew of noobs receives the red roof inn poop talk.

We were ferried back to basecamp and given new housing assignments in tent city.  Frodo was eager to drive back out to Cimarron for lunch, but the rest of us declined.  We had learned our lesson and were going to take care of all our work first before it was time to relax.  Instead, we opted for a quick meal at basecamp.  The once bland and awful cafeteria food suddenly tasted like a feast after having eaten re-hydrated and processed foods for the last ten days.  The scouts were literally in a sprinters position waiting for them to announce a chance at seconds.  I found myself craving a simple garden salad of fresh vegetables, something I hardly desire normally.

Chicken fingers, French fries, steamed corn on the cob, cookies, and plenty of salad.

After our meal, we returned all of our crew gear.  We purchased the "God and Country" and "Wilderness Pledge" patches as well as other souvenirs from the Tooth of Time Traders.  Then we packed up all of our gear for the flight home.  Finally, I took a much needed shower in their private washrooms.  I never believed that I could accumulate so much dirt and grime on my body.

With all of our chores finished, we went out to the Blue Dragonfly BBQ and Brewing Company Restaurant for dinner.  I washed down my order of beef brisket and spare ribs with a tall glass of beer.

A statue of David this is not.

The evening campfire was very disappointing.  It was as if the staff realized at the last second that they had forgotten to organize a show.  The musical entertainment was meh compared to all the other programs that we had seen over the past two weeks.  We would have been better off skipping it and driving to Denver instead.


Wednesday, July 31, 2019


We departed Philmont at 7 AM and started on our four hour ride back to Denver.  We stopped at the Golden Arches in Raton for a quick breakfast.  In contrast to the boisterous conversations on the ride down two weeks prior, both SUV's were very quiet as people were physically and emotionally drained.  We parted ways with Frodo and his son as they were extending their trip for a few more days to visit his daughter in Boulder.  The rest of us ate airport food for lunch.  Our flight back home was uneventful and The Boy and I made it back home to an empty house by 8:30 that night.

Activities can be classified into three categories.  Type 1's are awesome the entire time you are doing it.  You never want the moment to end.  Our journey to the Bahamas Seabase was that type of trip.  Type 2 activities are not fun while you are doing it, but are great to reminiscent about as there was value in the experience.  Running a marathon would check that bucket off.  Type 3's just suck altogether and have no redeemable value.  These activities include the Donner Party and getting waterboarded.

Our Philmont experience was a Type 1.5.  There were definitely times when our crew members were  angry, miserable, and possibly in slight danger.  However, we also had transcendent experiences that made us laugh and cry with delight.  The risk compounded by the huge reward made Philmont such a more memorable experience for The Boy and I compared to the easy Seabase adventure.  When I asked Inferno and The Boy if they would go to Philmont again in two years if their troop received a trek, they both answered "Absolutely."